M.I.A.

M.I.A.

 

Fluffy is missing. It’s a life altering tragedy.  Fluffy has weathered many storms.  He’s been many places.  He’s even been missing before.  Quite a lot for his 4 years.  But this time it seems more tragic; the pain more palpable. 

 

Like all good childhood memories, Fluffy has a story.  Fluffy was ‘adopted’ in March of ’05 by a very sick little girl.  I remember very vivid details of that day for reasons I can’t quite explain. Allie was 3 months old and was having difficulties breathing.  She was coughing very hard, spiked a fever of 100, and was coughing/spitting up clear fluid.  My sister and I had brought her to the Urgent Care.  I mean no offense to any Urgent Care docs, but the guy we saw was an idiot.  He told my sister that her child was regurgitating and that was all that was causing the problems. Never mind that you could hear she was struggling to breathe, or that she had a fever, or that she was coughing, or that formula is white and not clear.  We disagreed completely with him and made an appointment for her to see her regular doctor asap.  There was an hour and a half between appointments and going home with a distraught sister (who was struggling with her own health problems) and a very sick baby to wait for an agonizing hour was not a good option.  I suggested we go to Target to pick up a few things since we were out and about.  We walked in and had to walk through the Easter displays first.  Now a side note: every year my mom gives up chocolate for Lent.  It’s a pretty big deal because like most women, my mom LOVES chocolate (especially m&m’s).  So every year on Easter morning, my sister and I give her a basket full of good chocolate…and a big bag of m&m’s.  With this in mind, I suggested we look for stuff for our Easter baskets since it was only a few weeks away and it was Allie’s first Easter.  You can’t really buy much for a baby in way of toys at Easter time.  It’s not like there is a plethora of bunny shaped rattles and googley eyes Jesuses.  Which you have to admit would be a little scary.  But we found the perfect basket item: a stuffed yellow duck.  He was a floppy duck, he was made to lay flat with his feet out behind him and his wings tucked to his body.  He sported a long orange beak and cute beady eyes.  He even had black eye brows.  And this little tuft of long stringy, fine hair. And boy was he soft.  He was the perfect Easter gift for a baby that can only see a few inches in front of her.  My sister placed him in Allie’s carrier and nuzzled him under her chin.  Allie has always had a fascinating with how things feel.  From only a few days old she would run her fingers through my hair when it fell near her face as I was feeding her at 2am, or rub her hands on her sleepers.  I assume that is a pretty normal thing for small babies who are feeling things for the first time.  When my sister put that duck in Allie’s carrier, she immediately starting petting him.  Her breathing started to fall in rhythm with her petting.  It actually seems to be slowing a little and her breaths were a little deeper.  She seemed to be soothed by the feel of this 16in stuffed toy that we were planning on putting in her Easter basket.  And once her little fingers found that little tuft of hair and started carefully stroking the long ‘strands’, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to take him away to even put him in the basket of the cart.  She pet that duck the whole time we were in the store.  When we went to pay for our items, I handed the cashier the round tag that I had pulled off Allie’s new toy.  She looked very confused for a minute until I smiled and pointed to the almost sleeping baby holding a duck that was almost as long as she was.  I remember telling her that I didn’t think I was going to be able to get him back so she could put him in a bag.  She smiled and said it didn’t look like it.  And that was the day Fluffy was adopted.  He was exactly what she needed at that moment.  At the doctor’s office, my sister was told to take Allie to the ER right away. It turns out she had developed RSV, which can be fatal to babies.  This has left her lungs weakened and more susceptible to lung ailments and infections.  Allie has spent quite a bit of time in ER’s in her 4 ½ years.  And Fluffy has been right by her side every time.  We know he has to be in the bag when we go to the hospital or someone has to go home and get him.  She has slept with Fluffy almost every night.  He is her comfort object.  The 2 are inseperable most of the time.  

Yesterday, Allie went to have a simple, quick, but painful procedure done and of course had Fluffy by her side.  My sister said she was surprised he hadn’t lost his head he was squeezed so hard.  Afterwards, Allie and Fluffy were rewarded with some mac and cheese at Allie’s favorite restaurant.  Last night when Allie went to bed, he was nowhere to be found.  The restaurant was called; no duck.  My sister drove back there and looked in the parking lot and dumpster; no duck.  She looked in the car, under Allie’s bed, in the hampers, turned the house upside down; no duck.  Allie wandered around the house last night calling out ‘Fluffy, where are you?’ to her faithful friend.  He didn’t respond.  She is heartbroken.  We might be able to find another yellow duck, but we can never replace Fluffy.

 

I think this is so tragic because I understand.  To this day I sleep with my teddy.  Of course now it’s not so much to keep me safe from monsters as it is I am so used to him.  I have tried pillows. And they work in a pinch.  But they just don’t feel right.  They are not teddy.  I have to admit I would feel pretty bad if he went missing.  But nothing compared to how I would have felt at say age 10.  Teddy represents all that was good about my childhood, and still reminds me of the comfort that was offered when things were not so good.  He was there when my gramma died. He was there when my uncle died.  He was there when I hurt my ankle, when I went on choir tours, went to camp.  He went everywhere with me.  It’s impossible to look at him and not remember all that.  I can’t imagine being 4 years old and losing my comfort.  So I understand where the tears and the restless night came from.  My heart breaks for her.  I understand his value and feel awful that there is nothing I can do to soften the loss of her faithful friend.  Fluffy has been missing before.  Somehow he always comes back.  We are hoping this is the case.  So for now we are calling Fluffy M.I.A.  We hope it’s temporary...but I bought her a new stuffed puppy just in case.