Anthony's baby blanket

I found it last night. Right before bed. I quickly grabbed it up and took a big whiff hoping the scent of the blanket would remind me of him. But the blanket just smelled like it had been in a closet. No Anthony smell left on it. No matter. I didn't need the smell anyway. Just the very sight of the blanket brought back a flood of memories. Then it was off to bed where I could dream of him. Of course, dreams never go the way you think they should. Much like real life. So the dream was dreadful and sad. It was just another reminder that I'm not his Mommy and I won't get the chance to watch him grow and experience life.

So what do I do with the blanket? My first thought was to call his foster mom. She could get in touch with Mom and give Anthony his blanket back. But I want to keep it. It's all I have. She gets everything. She gets the hugs and kisses and to kiss the owies. She gets Holidays and birthdays and graduations and his wedding. I have some pictures and memories and this blanket. Not a fair trade. And I hate her. I know it's not her fault. I know God must have wanted her to be his mother instead of me. But I hate her. I envy her and don't know if that will ever go away. I feel as though she has stolen what was rightfully mine. I loved him the first 18 months. I knew him. I held him and kissed him while she was off living her own life without any thought of him whatsoever. And now it's her turn. But I can't switch places with her. I have too many thoughts of him to be able to let them go. There is no turning back. I have to remember and I have to feel it. I have to miss him and I have to be sad. So that's my day today. I'm so grateful for the memories and the blanket. But they come with a price.