I loved shopping for Thomas when I was pregnant. The tiny, pessimistic voice in my head screamed, "But what IF" every time I handed over my credit card, but as the weeks and months wore on, I found myself more and more able to stifle it and revel in the sweet little outfits, blankies, toys and nursery accoutrement I brought home.
It was bliss. I still have bulging boxes of baby things packed away in the basement that prove just how much bliss I experienced during those precious 9 months.
At some point I ordered something from a website called Dreamtime Baby. I think it might have been his "man in the moon lamp", which I absolutely ADORED.
It's so cute I wish there was a way I could incorporate it into our decor now. But with no child in the house, it would no doubt elicit some odd, pitying looks from friends and family. So in the basement it sits.
Anyway, Dreamtime Baby, it seems, has a looooooong memory. More than 3.5 years after Thomas' birth and death I'm STILL getting regular sale reminders. I could take myself off their list - and that would obviously be the sensible thing to do - but after all this time the notices are more of an annoyance than a stab in the heart. For the most part. I just keep forgetting to click "unsubscribe" before I hit delete.
But today I won't forget.
Today they sent me a plaintive "We want you back" e-mail, and dangled a $15 coupon in my face.
Dreamtime Baby, I want you back too. But if I've learned one thing over the last five, desperate years, it's that we can't always get what we want.
So, dear Dreamtime Baby, it is with sadness and regret that I have to finally tell you that as much as we both might want it, you can't have me back.
Now please go away and leave me alone. I'm busy. I have moon lamps and bulging boxes to ignore.