I Finally Made Chili Again- And Nobody Died

You're probably reading the title for this post and thinking to yourself, "What on earth is she on about?" So I will give you a bit of background.

If you're a long time reader of my blog you may remember this post. It was written just over a year after my son died and was born. In it I was reflecting on my journey to find my new normal. I also shared a story about how I was no longer able to make chili after his death. If you've already clicked on the link to the post then you know why chili became a grief trigger for me. But it you don't want to do that then I will give you the short version.

I made a big pot of chili for a BBQ the night before I found out my son had died. When I got home from having received the horrible news, practically the only thing in my fridge was the huge pot of chili. As part of all the preparation for going back into the hospital to give birth to my son the next morning, I had to deal with what to do with said chili.

I have been unable to make chili ever since. The Hubby has asked me several times and the result has been anxiety and tears. I know it seems silly, but that's just the way it's been.

Until now.

Last week The Hubby told me that his employees were going to be in town and he wanted to have them over for another BBQ. He gently asked if I felt ready to make chili again. Apparently they have been asking for it every time they are in town. I know I should be flattered that almost 3 years on they are still talking about my chili, but up until now it's not been something I wanted to face.

This time when he asked I felt none of the old anxiety; none of the dread; none of the sadness. I didn't burst into tears or flash back to that place where I was back home with my dead baby inside me trying to figure out what to do with a big pot of chili. Someway, somehow, this huge trigger for my grief was just gone. Instead of being a trigger, chili was simply something to feed guests at a BBQ.

I don't know how it happened, or when, but I now have another piece of my old normal back.

It was a bit of a challenge to remember exactly how I made it as I had also thrown out my recipe. But I managed to piece it together and I have to admit that it tasted really good. Everyone loved it and most people went back for seconds.

So there you have it. I finally made chili again- and nobody died!

The Heart Says Yes

A while back I wrote about my struggle to figure out if I'm brave enough to try for another baby. Am I strong enough to put myself, and The Hubby, back to into such a vulnerable place?

A place where we could be blessed with another living child. A place where we could also have another loss. A place where we have to have faith and patience. A place where we have to be optimistic in the face of fear.

We have been there before and have our precious Frostina as a result, but will we have the same happy outcome again?

Being a logical person, it can be difficult for me to stop strategizing and start feeling. As we all know, there is nothing logical about wanting children. It's much more primal than that. We are programmed with the desire to have them, or not to have them.

Do you have 1 child, do you have 2, do you have more than that? These decisions are often more of a gut feeling than anything else. There isn't a formula for the perfect family size. I think you just know when you're there.

As I've stated before, I'm not always good at listening to my gut feelings. So for me, these kinds of decisions take time. I have to stop thinking about it and wait for my heart to speak to me. That's what I've been doing and my heart finally answered loud and clear.

 

The heart says yes.

Still Not Crawling

Am I failing her?

That's the question that's been in the back of my mind lately.

Am I failing Frostina? Am I a good mother? Am I doing it right?

The Hubby is constantly telling me what a great job I'm doing. Frostina is eating well, and sleeping well, and happy most of the time. And yet the feeling that I'm doing something wrong still plagues me.

Why am I worried?

She's almost 10 months old and still not crawling or pulling herself up. She can sit very well and loves to stand up when I pull her up. She can even balance herself for a few minutes while she is standing against the couch. But I have to put her in position first. She knows how to roll over yet she rarely does. Basically she stays in one position until she gets bored. Then she complains a bit until Mommy comes to the rescue.

She has hated tummy time from the beginning. It was only a month or so ago that she would tolerate it for any length of time. I've been trying to put her on her tummy a lot lately and it seems like when she's in the mood she can go for quite some time before she gets unhappy. She can rotate herself around in a circle and sometimes pushes herself backwards a little bit, but still no crawling.

Everywhere I go I see babies younger than her scooting, rolling, army crawling, bum shuffling (I love that expression), and full on crawling. I see them pulling themselves up and trying to couch surf. I watch Frostina get frustrated when she can't reach something she wants. I watch her sway from side to side on her belly, not being able to figure out why that doesn't propel her forward. Some days she's desperately unhappy because she's stuck in one spot. And yet still no crawling.

I have tried everything I can think of to help her along. I lay next to her and hold toys out of reach. I place my hands on her feet to encourage her to push against them. I have tried putting a towel under her belly and suspending her in the air so that her knees and arms touch (she hated this one by the way). I praise her when she pivots around, and yet still no crawling.

Lots of people tell me I'm lucky because once she starts moving I will never be able to sit down again. In my head I know that babies develop at their own pace. But deep inside I worry that it's something I've done. Have I let her spend too much time in the jumperoo? Have I been too nice by always rescuing her when she cries. Is this a sign that she's somehow developmentally delayed? If so then what on earth have I done wrong to cause it?

Ugh, this Mommy guilt is killing me.