by Melissa Willets posted in Pregnancy

Had you told me a year ago cooking would help give me courage to survive my loss, and face a new pregnancy, I never would have believed you. I would have thought I'd be ordering out and reheating bagel pizzas for my kids for life.
The last time I had the time or interest to cook, I was a twenty-something living alone in New York City. Each night, I reveled in browsing the fresh seafood counter at Citarella. I came home each night to my tiny studio apartment, pour a glass of wine, and sip leisurely as I chopped, tasted spices, and adjusted flavors.
I perfected my crab cakes, or prepared a big pot of linguini and clam sauce for my boyfriend and friends. One night it was steamed mussels. Another, penne with vodka sauce. Then, marriage and kids happened, and I slowly lost my will to cook. Ordering out became a nightly habit; chicken nuggets and microwave pizzas were now a mainstay of my children's dinnertime ritual. With no time to shop for fresh ingredients, flip through cookbooks or browse recipe sites, I assumed cooking was a thing of my past.
But this past summer, our world as we knew it fell apart when we lost a pregnancy after 6 months. Nothing felt safe or comfortable anymore. I ached with grief, and could find no solace in my old routines. I yearned for a break from my pain, and that's when I rediscovered my love of cooking.

Each day, I distracted my throbbing head and broken heart by thumbing through cookbooks I'd saved from...