What follows is a tale of loss, heartbreak, loneliness, revival, reunion, and love.
Thursday, March 18th–I dropped McKenna off at school, and then headed to the pediatrician’s office with Jack and Caia for Jack’s (long overdue) 12 month appointment. As always, I made sure that Ducky and Wooby were with us.
If you know Caia, you know Ducky.
Ducky is a floppy, yellow, well-worn, well-loved stuffed biohazard duck.
Ducky came to live with us one Christmas by way of GiGi and PawPaw. It was a year later that Caia adopted him as her lovey. We’re not sure how or why she chose to make him her “lovey”, but shortly before Jack made his way onto the Parris scene, she began to cling to Ducky and take him everywhere.
Since Ducky’s entrance to our family, he has been almost like another child to keep up with. He goes EVERYWHERE. Literally, everywhere.
We have gone back to many a friend’s house, many a store, many a restaurant to retrieve Ducky.
But back to my story at hand…
After being left in the doctor’s exam room for close to an hour waiting on Jack’s iron and lead test results (which were fine, by the way…the nurse simply FORGOT about us…and THAT is another story in and of itself, but I’ll choose to repress my feelings here for the sake of the story at hand)…anyway, when we finally were given the results and realized that the nurse was headed out to lunch duty without releasing us (grr), I was in such a rush to leave that office, that I hastily picked up everything that I thought we had brought and shuffled them out the door for some long overdue lunch.
Caia had been intrigued by the trash can at the doctor’s office that day. Maybe it was because I had told her to throw something away for me, and the fact that it was encased in a cabinet was…appealing? I don’t know…but let’s just keep this important fact in mind for the rest of the story.
We rushed through Chick Fil A for lunch, grabbed Kenni at school, and came home for a nap for Jack. I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting (impatiently) for Stephen to come home so that I could make it out to a birthday dinner for some friends of mine. (Again, another story in and of itself about miscommunication between a husband and a wife about time…but I would like to say that if your event is on the calendar with the correct time written next to it, you win the argument. Period. Thank you. Just call me The Marriage Ref.)
My absence for the early evening meant that Stephen was required to feed and gather together the children and their belongings to take out to a small group meeting for the church.
After we came home that night, the search for Ducky began.
We turned an already messy house upside down looking for Caia’s friend.
She has a habit of putting Ducky IN things…he has shown up in my bread machine, the play kitchen, the step stool in the bathroom (I never said Ducky was a CLEAN duck), the closet…
And although we looked EVERYWHERE and in everyTHING, Ducky was nowhere to be found.
Stephen insisted that she had not taken him to the small group meeting that night, and I certainly didn’t remember seeing him either.
Caia went to bed that night a very sad little girl.
And her mommy cried like a baby.
In one of the Esther videos in the Beth Moore bible study, Beth quotes a lady who said, “You’re only as happy as your saddest child.”
And I had one sad, sad child.
I know that it is “just” a stuffed animal. But, to her, Ducky is a friend. He is her solace.
As I sat down on the edge of the bed, a very sobering thought hit me.
She had REALLY been interested in that garbage can at the doctor’s office. And she likes to put Ducky IN things.
OH NO. DUCKY WAS IN THAT GARBAGE CAN.
Frantic, I got into the car and drove to the pediatrician’s office. At 11:30 at night. I don’t know what I thought I was going to find at that hour. I had a small spot of hope that MAYBE he had fallen out of the car and was on the sidewalk, or MAYBE someone was still in that dr’s office, or maybe…some kind nurse found him, knew that a child would be missing their lovey that night and had placed him outside the front door.
Desperation and an urge to “fix” things for your chid will make you think crazy things.
Obviously, I found nothing.
And the next morning, the requests for Ducky began in earnest.
A 7:00 a.m. phone call to the doctor’s office yielded nothing. No duck had been turned in and that trash was long gone.
A trip to the local Belk store where original Ducky was purchased proved fruitless as well.
Even though I knew a replacement Ducky was not going to hold the same value as THE Ducky.
We moved our search to Target, hoping that I could find something that at least LOOKED like Ducky.
We found a large stuffed duck that she seemed to enjoy. We named him Ducky 2. We went about our day.
But as day turned to night and it was time to go to bed, Ducky 2 was no longer cutting the mustard.
She would hold Ducky 2 for a moment or so, then gingerly toss him out of the bed onto the floor and say,
I don’t want that.
She would pick him up and try again. But it was for naught.
She wouldn’t even suck her two middle fingers like she has since she was 6 weeks old. She held them on her chin and said,
I can’t.
My heart broke for her.
I sat by her bed and cried big tears for her.
I thought of Ducky…cold and alone in a big dumpster somewhere.
Ducky was well-loved…and to have been thrown out with the trash seemed…so…harsh.
I had wanted to keep Ducky, even when the fascination fades, so that I could pass him onto her in years to come. A keepsake. A piece of her innocent childhood.
After she was asleep that night, I went up to her room, knelt beside her and stroked her hair.
And I prayed.
God, I know this seems impossible, but could You please bring Ducky home?
TO BE CONTINUED….
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