Just A piece of toast

I made a piece of toast today.

Who cares, right?

I do.

Why, you ask?

Because it wasn’t for me.

It was for Brenly.

You know the best part?

She asked me to make it for her.

If you have followed her journey, you know our struggles with food. The textures. The smells. The shapes. Serious sensory overload. One time, she vomited after a single crunch of cauliflower.

But the progress this girl is making is incredible.

There was a time when I had serious concerns about protein and iron. I mean serious. She ate like 5 foods and her staple food was plain elbow noodles. And they had to be elbow noodles. No spaghetti noodles, no rigatoni, no penne. Elbow. If they weren’t elbow, she wasn’t eating them.

Then we started feeding therapy.

We are about 5 years in.

The progress has been amazing.

Is it easy? No.

Is it worth it? Absolutely.

Let me tell you about Brenly and carrots.

We presented carrots the first time for her to look, touch, smell, stack.

She didn’t taste them.

The next time, we stacked them again and then we cut them in little pieces.

She still didn’t taste them.

The third time, we presented small carrots. You know, the super thinly sliced ones?

Still no tasting. Not even a lick.

The fourth time, we took the carrots and made them into shapes on a plate.

Still nothing.

The fifth time, we tried all the things we tried before.

Nothing.

Then we kept going and going and going.

Still nothing. Not one single taste of a carrot.

I was losing hope.

Her amazing therapist kept going with the carrots.

You know how long it took for her to actually taste a carrot?

About 2 years.

2 whole years of presenting carrots over and over and over and she finally tasted the carrot.

It took another few months before she took decent sized bites of the carrot.

Then a little longer before she ate a whole baby carrot.

Now, carrots are among the MANY foods she likes.

I made a piece of toast today.

Just one piece of toast.

Brenly took the teeniest, tiniest bite.

I don’t care how many pieces of toast I have to make.

I don’t care how many of those pieces get thrown away after only a teeny, tiny bite.

I’ll make it every single time she asks.

She is pushing herself to try new things.

That is progress. Amazing progress.

She is tasting a new food the first time it is presented.

It isn’t taking 2 years anymore.

It isn’t just food either.

We are going places. The store. The park. Loud places. Quiet places.

Our girl is making progress everywhere.

And that my friends is why, for us, it is so much more than just a piece of toast.