People have been asking WHY hospitals do this...give out Bears to Mother's that have just lost a child. Thinking of it...it does seem silly. BUT what it comes down to...is their principal:
A Mother's arms should NOT leave empty.
I have already admitted that when they handed this Bear to me...I didn't want it. I wanted to THROW IT. I mean...I just had to hand over the most precious part of me - to a stranger - and I "get" to walk out of the hospital holding a teddy bear. That night - walking out of the hospital - was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, my feet were dragging - I could have held Beck longer - no time was long enough. Jed and I didn't talk. We drove silently home - Bear still in my arms. At this point, looking back, I am not sure why I was still holding it. We walked into the house. Sat on the couch. Starred into space - wondering if this was really happening. Did my baby really die...or was this all a dream that I so desperately wanted to wake up from...for days really, I wondered this.
Moments later laying down in bed. Crying. Still holding that bear. In between minutes of sleep (mostly from exhaustion) I cried into Jed - crying out my son's name. That Bear was still in my arms. The next morning I placed it on my dresser and Beck's hat was sitting there - slowly I placed his hat nicely on this Bear's head. That hat has never left his head.
For months I didn't touch that Bear - even had a hard time looking at it. I kept telling Jed that I needed to pack it away with the rest of Beck's stuff but it still never got moved. I thought I really didn't care about it- it was just something that someone had given me on the worst day of my life.
Probably 9 months after Beck's death I walked into my room and that Bear was moved - knocked over and on the floor. Freaking out inside I ran over to grab it and place it back in that spot until I noticed that one of the other kids had gotten toothpaste on it. Yelling for Jed to come clean him - with tears in my eyes as I watched Jed clean the Bear up while telling me that it was 'okay.' That day I realized that this Bear wasn't just any Bear...it was MY Bear, My Beckett Bear. From that moment on I let the kid's hold him - they all have since wanted a "Beckett Bear" of their own, to wear one of Beck's smallest outfits.
My Bear was one of the first things that I placed in my bedroom when we moved a year later - back on my dresser to watch over us as we pass by him daily - sometimes hourly - but I can look at the bear and think of my Sweet Beckett. It is no longer a reminder of that horrible day BUT a symbol of my baby boy, wearing his hat.
That is why these Bears are so special. My Bear may have not meant much in the beginning but he has become so special to our family.