Tonight's picture was taken in September of 2002. Mattie was five months old and beginning to try solid foods. This was Mattie eating rice cereal, which is the first thing most pediatricians tell you to try. Mattie LOVED it! Do note that Mattie ate in his car seat! He preferred it over a high chair. I am not sure what I love more in this photo.... Mattie's grasp on the spoon or how intently he was looking at me.
Quote of the day: Today's coronavirus update from Johns Hopkins.
- number of people diagnosed with the virus: 7,180,179
- number of people who died from the virus: 205,729
I think there are many things that can trigger existential anxiety or crises. We all have them, it is the beauty of being human. These crises leave us questioning our existence and purpose. Today was one of those days for me. Some causes of such a crisis include loss of a loved one, realizing our own mortality, feeling dissatisfied with life, a major life event/change (i.e. moving to a new place), or guilt about something that has happened. In my case, my crisis all revolves around Mattie.
While walking and chatting today, Peter mentioned the notion of moving out of the city. Since life as we know it no longer exists here, both from the loss of Mattie perspective and the immense changes we see in our neighborhood and community. Now I am sure many people don't react well to change, especially if it involves moving. It is one of those top ten life adjustments. But moving means much more than change to me. It causes an existential crisis. Mainly because it is the people around me and the surroundings that help me keep Mattie's memory alive. My friends knew Mattie and then knew me as a mom. Moving anywhere causes an additional stressor. Because "new" people won't know our story, they won't understand our journey, and truly I believe without these common surroundings, my identity is lost, confused, or non-existent. So as Peter knows, certain topics cause me to shut down or ignore them. Not too mature, but I need to work things through in stages, in order to come to terms with our next chapter.
For Peter and I, we have been dealt a blow that not everyone can understand. Though Mattie died 11 years ago, his loss causes constant waves in our life. Like a pebble thrown in a body of water. We went through child rearing and actively being parents for 7 years, and then with a snap of one's fingers once Mattie died, are lives look more like two retirees. That may sound wonderful to someone reading this, but it isn't! Not when you are younger and had so many years ahead of you to raise and nurture a child. I am dealing with many mixed up emotions and thoughts, but it was good that Peter started the conversation, as he knows I will need time to internally work out my feelings on this.
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