I want my Guggy

Posted on Saturday~January 24, 2009

Asher and Miles both have a little blankie of sorts that they sleep with and need when they're sad or hurt. I believe the experts call them "transitional objects." We call them Guggies. This started because Ryan and I called Miles' blanket a Snuggly, and when he started to talk it came out "Guggy" and it stuck. Now Asher has a Guggy too.

Both of our boys are pretty much total Guggy addicts.

We parents spend a lot of time making sure that these small comforts are available, searching before bedtime and car trips, throwing the Guggies in the diaper bag, making sure they're available to be the good friends that they are if needed.

The other night before bed, I walked around with Asher for a long while, looking under furniture and in piles of laundry, under toys and even in the cupboards.

No Guggy.

Even though he doesn't say much yet, I could see the concern in Asher's little face, the question in his eyes as he looked at me, pointing and grunting, asking for help.

I know what you want, Sweetie.

We finally gave up then. I had a sinking feeling, thinking that bedtime would not go well. But Asher was tired and I needed to give it a try, Guggy-less or not.

I stood next to his crib, like I do every night, holding Asher and singing a little song I made up for him when he was a newborn, a song I would sing loud and proud over the cries of his colic...

"There you go with my heart, baby. There you go with my heart. I should have known from the start, baby. That there you'd go with my heart. And when you sleep baby, your peace takes my heart. There you go with my heart, baby. There you go with my heart..."

I set him down carefully and tip-toed off to continue the Guggy search, sure that Asher would start crying as soon as I closed his door.

But he didn't.

I continued my search anyway, and a few minutes later I found the Guggy buried under the blankets and between the sheets of Miles' bed. These are the things that keep me going, I realized. Small moments here and there of triumph. My heart smiled, knowing that Asher would be comforted, happy to have his little friend for the night.

I slipped back into his room, as quietly as possible, hoping that his surprising silence meant that he was sound asleep.

He was awake. He had been waiting. He had positioned himself in my favorite way, knees tucked under him and butt in the air. But he also had one tiny hand held up in the dark, reaching out, expecting me and my comforting little gift.

I want to be more like Asher.

Trusting, peaceful, expectant, hopeful...

Instead of worrying and fretting, pacing and crying, I'd like to rest my weary head and reach my hand up in the dark, knowing that I'll get the comfort I need if I quietly wait.

But instead, I have a grown-up tendency to stand in heaps of laundry I've buried myself in, completely at a loss for how to find my "Guggy." I walk in circles, searching and getting all panicky. I try other ways of finding comfort, silly old habits, distractions I think will bring me relief. I try everything besides bowing down, my hand in the air, expectant and ready for a true comfort that will surely come if I would just be still and ask. Even if it comes out as a grunt, or if all I can do is point, that doesn't matter. I just need to ask with a heart settling in hope.

"I know what you want, Sweetie."

I want to be more like Asher.