Little Lark, Little Lark, where have you gone?

It is with a heavy heart that I write this. I've cried. I've (no joke) laid in bed at night for two nights in a row, retracing my steps. Where could it have gone? I don't ever take it out of his car seat. It's been there since our first car ride home and every car ride since. It's gone to the beach, to Seattle on his first airplane ride, to the doctor, to the mall, to nursery, countless trips to the grocery store, but alas, it is no where to be found. And it breaks my heart.

I know he's not connected to it. He won't miss it. But I do. I ache for the embroidered letters and perfect stitches, constructed in love by a dear dear friend. Before we even knew Henry's name. I had looked forward to that baby shower, knowing it was finally my turn to receive a blanket from her. Her creations are one of a kind. Always perfectly unique. Quite the hot commodity. And I loved it. As my belly grew bigger and bigger I would sit in his nursery, packing and repacking his diaper bag, softly stroking that blanket, dreaming and fantasizing about the coming months. It was his first home-made blankey. It fit perfectly around his tiny body in his car seat. It was the perfect size to snuggle his little body in when he was so small. My sentiments could go on and on. Davi says no big deal. We'll just make another one. Or better yet, I should make him one. And I should. And I will. But I ache for that little Lark. His first blankey.

And I am sad.

On our way to our first doctors visit.