A Tale of Two Blankets

This blanket. We've had it for a while. It was one we grabbed from Ikea on a whim and it lived in a basket in Teddy's room for several months before I moved it to the nursery, where it now awaits our new baby, along with countless other blankets and stuffed animals and items of comfort.

Like many other people, I've been following the refugee crisis in Syria, and I came across a photo series a while back called Where the Children Sleep, in which Magnus Wennman documents child refugees on their journey to safety. There in the photos was a 5-year-old girl, sleeping in the woods with the very same blanket. All of the photos were obviously horrific and heartbreaking, but seeing that photo was like a giant slap in the face. Just a few days before, I had been crying about a chair. A big, comfy chair I had picked out for the nursery that went out of stock before I could order it. I sobbed to my husband, telling him how unfair it felt, while also acknowledging how ridiculous I was being for crying over a A CHAIR (can I blame pregnancy hormones?). Because how many people would give almost anything for their biggest problem to be a chair that went out of stock?

Photo by Magnus Wennman

It feels wrong. Wrong to cry over chairs, wrong to go Christmas shopping, wrong to post happy little squares to Facebook and Instagram, when there are so many terrible things going on both around the world and right here in our own city. It seems that every time I turn on the tv or open my laptop I'm bombarded by the reality of the tragedies occurring all around us. I've been reminded more than enough lately just how fragile and precious life is. I hug Teddy crying on an almost nightly basis and think of those who can no longer do the same, thanks to war and shootings and racism and hate and any number of other things.

I don't know if it's this pregnancy or the approaching holidays or something else entirely, but the emotions are almost too much to bear these days. I want to run away from the news, yet I know pretending like it's not happening isn't the solution either. We need to be aware of what's going on within our communities and around the world because we owe it to future generations to make it better.

So what do we do? SOMETHING. We have to do SOMETHING. Because hugging my own son tighter and shutting out the world doesn't prevent another innocent life from being lost. I'm not suggesting everyone glue themselves to their tv or phones--finding balance is key--but when you do come across a troubling story, DO SOMETHING. Whatever you can; however you can. Whether that's contacting your representative about gun control, donating to an organization that assists refugees around the world or within the U.S., or helping a local family that's in need this Christmas--find what you are passionate about and HELP.

There's no shortage of organizations that could use your help or donations right now--UNHCR, UNICEF, the ASPCA, the American Red Cross, Planned Parenthood, the Wounded Warrior Project, One Simple Wish, and so many more--they need us.

And maybe if we all knew that every time we saw something tragic on the news or Internet, we could take comfort in knowing that our collective efforts are at least a tiny step in the right direction to make it better. We have to make it better.

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