Crackers

Crackers make me cry.

Not just any crackers, and not all the time. Though I often feel as though I teeter between dancing on the edge and complete disbelief and numbness I haven't completely lost my mind yet. But like everything, it seems, babyloss has even made my biggest craving from pregnancy a bittersweet reminder of my stillborn baby boy.

While expecting George I craved WASA bread crackers. The original whole wheat ones. Plain.

Oh, they tasted so good. Like magic, only better. I munched on them constantly, loving not just their taste but the satisfying crunch. These WASA crackers were the first thing I would reach for in the morning, my constant snack of choice, and preferred for night-time nibbling over anything else including potato chips or chocolate. Yes, that's true. I would choose to eat a plain whole wheat cracker over chocolate. Even Swiss milk chocolate. My husband tried to tempt me but failed where WASA triumphed.

I ate these crackers so much that my husband teased me that my incessant munching and crunching made me sound like a demented rodent. He thought I'd get tired of the plain original kind and brought home rye and multigrain. I ate those as well, but they weren't as good as the plain whole wheat. Not by a long shot. I was eating one package or, ahem, more a day.

I thought this baby, our fifth child, would be a true little West Coast granola child. I envisioned him eating these crackers with me one day, spurning unhealthy snacks as he balanced his love of whole grain goodness with fresh, locally grown produce.

But he died during my labour and I'm devastated by this loss. So now thinking of this craving makes me sad and wistful. I haven't eaten these crackers since George was born silent. I don't know if I will some day again, but I do know that even thinking about eating them is making me cry.

I'm crackers. Over babyloss and WASA crispbread.