It was a simple question. I nonchalantly asked my husband “What should we do with the highchair? Should we keep it or should we sell it?”
It’s not a special highchair. It’s not high tech, its not fancy and its not expensive. There are no gadgets, toys or hoopla. It’s just a highchair.
It should be a simple answer. Yes or no. But the more I think about it, the more I drag my feet and the more I realize – it’s not a simple question. And the answer hurts like hell.
I am a crazy couponer, especially with baby stuff. I LOVE to get a good deal. I bought this highchair for $20 including shipping on Black Friday in 2011. The Monday before we had paid for a private scan at 15 weeks on the dot to find out the gender so we could go to the outlet mall by my in-laws house where we were celebrating Thanksgiving. It was a steal. It’s regularly $80. Not sure why though, its not really that fancy! I love that its a stand alone chair, we never had one for Diva, her’s strapped into a chair. I hated that.
It was the first thing I bought for the baby, equipment wise. It made him real. He would need a highchair to sit at the table and throw Cheerios at his sister. That is where he would learn to drop soup on the dog’s head (I could have sworn it would be come a family tradition).
But instead he came early. And that life was gone. And a new one took its place. And the new life would come with not the simple pleasures of learning and growing, but a rollercoaster of emotions. Diagnoses that would be felt like earthquakes and achievements that would be erupt like volcanoes. Its a much more extreme reality. One that you don’t buy equipment for in pregnancy.
But this week we got the wheelchair. It’s really perfect. It gives him the support he needs to sit up straight which is better for eating, sitting and hopefully one day interacting. So gone are the days of rolling blankets as side and head supports for the highchair. And honestly, the wheelchair takes up a lot of room. As does all of the new equipment we need. So we really need the space. And who am I kidding, we could definitely use the money. Stride Rite rarely offers coupons on those $60 shoes. And somehow when you are out there trying to beat the odds and walk in a world that doesn’t believe you can, well Payless just doesn’t really offer you the support you need.
So while it sounds like a simple question, its more a matter of acceptance. Am I ready to look in that corner and see the missing highchair? An empty space to fill with the new reality. Trading the old for the new. Accepting that there might not be a day that he sits in a chair and throws Cheerios at his sister and drops soup on the dog. Or it might come when he’s 12. Either way, its a reminder; not of the easy joys of childhood, but our fight. The fact that we have to fight to sit in a chair like that.
I believe that one day he will throw Cheerios at his sister. But it probably won’t be from that chair. So maybe its time. Time to pass that chair on down the line. To someone new, who is still dreaming. Dreaming of the simple joys to come – first bites, first foods, moments around the family table or silent moments during breakfast alone watching the baby pick at a banana while she drinks her coffee after a long sleepless night.
Simple questions never seem so simple anymore.