Parting with poppies As I write, our baby girl is screaming her head off. She is in bed and she is not happy. Why is she so distraught? She has had to say goodbye to the love of her life…her poppies. Translation…her pacifier. Poppies does not refer to more than one pacifier. Just one is called her poppies. This is a road we have traveled on before. The pain of saying goodbye to something one holds so dear. I remember picking her up from the nursery at church one day and they asked me if we got a new puppy. I thought that was strange and said “no, why do you ask?”
“ Well, Josie has been talking all morning about puppies.”
“Oh…poppies…that is her pacifier.” I replied as they all looked at me a little strange. Charlie had his until age 3. Coleman and Judah, age 2. But since Josie began affectionately chewing the tip off of hers, we decided it best to cut her off a little sooner. The funny thing is she threw it away happily saying, “By-by poppies! All gone! Big girl!” But somewhere between the excitement of celebrating being a big girl and actually having to fall asleep without sucking/chewing away on her beloved, the horror set in of drifting off to sleep all alone…no poppies to hold her tight. She is working through all the proper stages of grieving the loss of her poppies. Denial – “No…(fussing)…no…(fussing)” Anger – “(screaming)…MAMA!….(screaming)…MAMA!….NO!” Bargaining – “Mama…I poo…Mama…I poo…” (this was clearly a ploy to get me into the room so she could stare me down with her big brown eyes and reach out her hands for a hug. Of course after checking her diaper and finding no evidence of waste) Depression – “Mama…tissue…Mama…tissue!” Acceptance – (quiet) She is asleep, finally….for now. You’d think by the fourth time the discomfort of listening to your baby plead for you to save them from their misery would get easier. But no. I hate hearing my kids cry. Always. But as a wise man once said (either my dad or my grandpa)…”They don’t cry blood.”