Adventures in Baby-Led Weaning: First Foods

It's happening. What we parents dread from the very moment we see those two lines on our home pregnancy test. The one thing we wish we never have to face but we know is as inevitable as the rotation of the earth around the sun...

My little boy is growing up.

It feels like he was tiny and squishy and helpless only yesterday. Where did this active, expressive, curious little guy come from? And it feels like only yesterday I was plastered to the couch with a tiny person attached to my breast for hours on end. Now I'm lucky if I can get him to nurse for five minutes...total. And he's begun the journey that will eventually lead to him weaning off the breast entirely (although that will be a slow and gradual process, and doesn't look like it will happen anytime soon).

He's started eating solid foods.

Adventures in Baby-Led Weaning: Introduction

Dominic is approaching the six-month mark. That magical age when he begins the journey into the world of solid foods. The beginning of the end of our breastfeeding relationship (more on that). Time to begin replacing his feedings of nutrient dense breast milk with nutritionally void, iron-fortified rice cereal!

Wait a minute. That doesn't make sense.

Rice cereal, like all refined carbohydrates, breaks down into sugar in the body, raising blood sugar and insulin levels. Chronic high levels of insulin contribute to obesity and diabetes. Not to mention young babies lack intestinal amylase, the enzyme required for the proper digestion of grains. So we probably won't be stocking up on Gerber rice cereal, or any baby cereal for that matter. Unfortunately just about every pediatrician and well-meaning grandparent in the country advise rice cereal as the first food introduced to an infant, sometimes as early as two months. The only reason I can imagine for this is that rice cereal is the least likely food to cause an allergic reaction and/or the mistaken notion that after six months (or two months) milk (whether breast milk or formula) isn't enough to sustain a growing baby.

The latter is simply nonsense, of course. But enough about that.

I've had a lot of time to think about how to start Dom onto solid foods. Before he was born I bought Cooking for Baby, a cookbook full of wholesome recipes and tips for starting solids. We knew right from the beginning that we didn't want to feed him commercial baby food. It's full of preservatives and added sugar and the organic baby food requires a small loan to purchase enough for the first three months. So we planned on making our own purees from foods we regularly eat (flavors he would have likely been exposed to through my breast milk). Sure, it's a little extra work, but it seemed worth it.

I didn't take into account how much of a lazy mom I am.

Yes, lazy. Why? Let's review my parenting decisions over the past six months:

• Breastfeeding: No bottles to wash, no powder to measure, no cans to open, highly portable, always the right temperature, and (after the initial 2-3 months) so easy. Definitely lazy.
• Co-sleeping: I don't have to get up out of bed when Dom wakes in the night, no worrying about waking him up to put him down in a crib, no need to sleep train. The ultimate in laziness.
• Babywearing: No need to lug a stroller or car seat around (those bucket seats are heavy!).
• Cloth-diapering: OK this one is admittedly more work than disposables, but I don't have to go out and buy diapers when I run out, so it's kind of lazy.

There are a few others that are slightly more controversial, so I'll leave them for another post. But you get the picture. So why on earth did I think that I possessed the motivation required to not only prepare separate meals for Dom, but also to puree, label, date, and freeze the individual portions for later use?

Luckily for me I soon discovered baby-led weaning. No purees, no cereals, no "baby food". Just give them table food and let them at it. Perfect!

Obviously, there are guidelines. You can't hand your kid a bag of Fritos and let them go to town. And you probably want to avoid peanuts and honey for the first year. But the essential principle still holds true. Babies can feed themselves actual food around six months (or later depending on the child). Nutrient content is important, of course, but he still receives all the calories and nutrients he needs through breast milk, so no need to obsess over whether he's "getting enough" (had to obsess enough about that in the first weeks of breastfeeding). We can focus on letting him try a wide range of flavors and textures without pressure. It's the perfect solution for us!

First, I should explain the use of the word "weaning" in this context. This method of infant feeding is based on a book by the same title published in the UK, so the word means something slightly different than what we in the US consider weaning. Here it means the cessation of breastfeeding, but in the UK it means the introduction of solid foods (so the cessation of exclusive breastfeeding). So we're not talking about the end of the breastfeeding relationship, although starting solids does signal the beginning of such a process, as solid foods will eventually start to replace breast milk as the child grows.

So how do we know when he's ready to start rubbing mashed potatoes into his hair? Here are some of the signs to look for:

• Your baby shows interest in food and family meal times.
• Your baby can sit without support.
• Your baby has lost the tongue-thrust reflex (pushing solid foods out of the front of the mouth).
• Your baby is ready and willing to chew (though he may not have many teeth).
• Your baby can pick up items with the thumb and forefinger (pincer grasp) as opposed to using the whole hand (palmar grasp).

The last one is debatable, I think. It's sufficient if he can grasp an object accurately and bring it to his mouth. Pincer grasp is more important for smaller bits of food, like peas. Dominic is already showing some, but not all of these signs. He becomes transfixed on our actions whenever we sit down to eat, has begun imitating the way we chew, and can grab fairly accurately. I'm not sure if he's lost the tongue-thrust reflex entirely and he can't sit up unassisted yet, so he probably won't be delving into a plate of spaghetti the day he turns six months (this coming Thursday), but I'm sure it's not far off.

It's a fairly relaxed approach to starting solids and quite different from the way most of us are accustomed to feeding babies. The basic principles of this approach are:

• At the start of the process the baby is allowed to reject food, and it may be offered again at a later date.
• The child is allowed to decide how much he wants to eat. No "fill-ups" are to be offered at the end of the meal with a spoon.
• The meals should not be hurried.
• Sips of water are offered with meals.
• Initially, soft fruits and vegetables are given. Harder foods are lightly cooked to make them soft enough to chew on even with bare gums.
• Foods with clear danger, such as peanuts, are not offered.
• Non-finger-foods, such as oatmeal and yoghurt, may be offered with a spoon so baby can learn to self-feed with a spoon.

Remember, milk is still the main source of nutrition, so solid foods are offered more for exploration than for nourishment. Food before one, just for fun!

As Dominic approaches this new stage in his development, I plan to chronicle our experiences with this method in a series of posts (including pictures). So look forward to some sloppy shenanigans in the weeks to come!

I Killed Wilson...Again

Well, I didn't actively kill him...he just kinda languished from neglect. I've come to the conclusion that having a 5 month old today! baby makes taking care of such a picky project as a sourdough starter much much more difficult (and annoying)! He did pretty well for the first few days, but once I had to start discarding and feeding I felt burdened by the whole process. I mean, seriously, do I really want to fuss with a gooey mass of fermented flour and water after finally convincing my child surrender to his exhaustion at 10pm? Pssht!

So, unfortunately my sourdough experiment will have to wait, again. Sorry to disappoint, if in fact anyone is disappointed...

I basically feel like a truck ran over me, I've been hit by a bus, the hapless victim of a freak skydiving accident. It's rather odd and kind of alarming that the last time I felt like this was after we returned from our trip to Maine for a good friend's wedding. This time, my parents, sister and young nephew were staying with us to look at rental houses in the surrounding area (did I mention my family is moving to Indiana?!). Notice a pattern? I should start wearing a face mask when I see them...(kidding!)

I was pleasantly surprised at how well my child handled the constant fondling and abuse visited upon him by his 19 month old cousin. My nephew is a hair puller, and though Dominic has little to speak of, Benedict was still able to wrap his little fingers around what few wisps he had and pull with all his might. Poor Dom...he cried a bit but was easily comforted. He was so fascinated with B that he hardly noticed the abuse, most of the time. It made for some pretty adorable and funny moments.

Oh, and did I mention I've ditched my nursing cover? It's true. Dominic has gotten to the point where he won't nurse if it's on and will push at it and pull on it the whole time I'm trying to feed him. So I grit my teeth and nursed for the first time in public without a cover (while I was in Maine, actually) and it was not the awkward experience I was anticipating. I still cover up if I feel like the outfit I'm wearing reveals too much (like some of my dresses), but we've gotten pretty adept at what my husband calls "ninja nursing". But my NIP stories are better saved for another post, I think.

And be on the lookout for an increase in posts about health and nutrition...it's my current obsession interest, especially as it relates to the issue of cholesterol (did you know cholesterol is an antioxidant?) And maybe some stuff about unschooling as I peruse the relevant literature and other homeschooling resources. I figure now is a better time to decide how to handle Dom's education, rather than waiting until he's 6 and ready to start Kindergarten (which he's never going to do because he will always be my baby and he will never ever grow up ever!)

I should also mention my little sister (mother of the previously mentioned adorable hair-pulling nephew) has resurrected her blog, Catholic Wifey. Go enjoy the antics of their crazy little family (complete with an emotionally fragile German Shepherd named...wait for it....Puppy).

There, Lor, you've been linked! KTHXBAI!

Go With the Flow: It's Not Worth It

Today was supposed to be a "good day".

Supposed to be.

I didn't wake up in a bad mood because my child was babbling and fussing away next to me at 7 o'clock in the morning. He still fussed, but I didn't let it bother me.

I had a Guinness cupcake with Bailey's frosting for breakfast.

I made up a menu for the coming week and put together a grocery list.

I emptied the trash can in the bathroom (that thing fills up fast!)

I took a shower! (*gasp*)

So why, with the deck seemingly stacked in my favor, did today fail to be a "good day"?

Because I am a big, big baby.

Everything was fine at first. We went to Target to get some things we've been needing but hadn't gotten around to purchasing yet, like a mail tray for the entryway table and a boot tray for our shoes. Dominic napped in my Mei Tai Baby while we shopped. We headed to Panera for lunch, since it's basically the only place in town with truly meatless menu options. And then...it happened.

I slammed my finger in the car door. Hard.

Those who know me know that I am extremely accident prone, especially when it comes to my fingers and toes. I've stubbed my left pinky toe three times, tearing the ligament each time and resulting in about a month of hobbling around pitifully. People must think I'm some kind of drama queen when I tell them, "I stubbed my toe." Except for me, "I stubbed my toe" really means, "I internally maimed my toe." I digress.

I had just put Dom in my ring sling (I tend to use the ring sling when we go out to eat because he invariably wants to get out and it's so much easier to pop him in and out of a ring sling.) When I went to close the door I must've forgotten to move my hand because there was my ring finger, crushed helplessly in the jaws of our Dodge Stratus. It was so wedged in there that I had to actually open the door again to free it. And BOY did it hurt!

Remember in my birth story where I said I'm a wuss? Here's proof.

I cried. A lot. I mostly cried because it hurt, and because I was mad at myself for being so clumsy. In retrospect I actually think I was upset more because it basically ruined the rest of my day. I wanted to go home immediately and nurse my wound (See? Totally a wuss.) which meant that my brilliant plans for the remainder of our outing would have to be scrapped. So we went home, after pilfering the towel filled with ice lent to us by the nice Panera people. And I sulked on the couch while Nick went back to Panera to get us lunch, because we still had no food.

So what did I learn from all this? I am a big baby. I'm realizing this about myself more and more. I have trouble making the best out of a bad situation. If things don't go the way I plan, I pitch a fit. "It's not FAIR!" is a favorite saying of mine in times of trial. I talk the talk about redemptive suffering, but I certainly don't walk the walk. And that needs to change.

I need to be more flexible. I need to roll with the punches. Otherwise, I will break like a dry twig. It's not worth the impact on my physical and spiritual well-being to be always swimming against the current. And it's not a good example I'm setting for Dominic.

From this day forward "It's not fair" will be stricken from my vocabulary (as will "I hate my life"...because I really don't, I'm just being a baby again). Because being angry about it does no good. And honestly, it's not worth it.

Four Month Anniversary of Dom's Escape from the Womb!

My little guy is four months old! My how time flies! Next thing I know he'll be walking...

Dominic's Birth Story

WARNING: The following account may be too explicit for some readers. Use caution.

I wanted to share my birth story with you all for a few reasons. First, I'd like to get it down in words while it's still fresh in my mind. What was already somewhat of a blur might become hopelessly unrecognizable should any considerable length of time be allowed to pass. Second, I think it important to demystify as much as possible the birth process, especially since most of our understanding of birth likely comes from watching A Baby Story on TLC. If someone like me, who despises even the smallest discomfort, can endure a natural labor, anyone can.

Seriously.

No, really, the last time I stubbed my toe, I thought I was going to die.

Anyway, if this subject makes you squeamish or uncomfortable, I won't be offended if you don't read it. You won't hurt my feelings. That said, I begin my tale.

The estimated date of delivery given to me by the hospital after a 14 week dating ultrasound put me at 40 weeks on November 2nd. I was pretty sure that date would prove to be too soon since a 6 week ultrasound showed me to be due around November 8th, little less than a week later. I was prepared to be considered "overdue" and began planning how I would put off an induction, should the subject arise. November 2nd dawned and I wasn't in labor...yet. My Braxton-Hicks contractions picked up a bit in intensity, but they weren't cause for any alarm until that evening. I couldn't sleep through them, and in fact they intensified when I laid down. Being the newbie I am, I was convinced that labor was starting, and around 3am we made our way to the hospital...an hour away. Long story short, we (me, my darling husband, and my mom) found ourselves home once again at 11am the following morning. False alarm.

Needless to say, I was pretty discouraged. My contractions gradually petered out as I attempted to regain the sleep I had lost while at the hospital and by the end of the day had completely disappeared. How was I ever going to know when real labor began? I tried to keep my mind off of it the rest of the day, hoping that I wouldn't have to wait too much longer.

Just Roll With It

I so relate to this post about getting nothing done when you have a baby. It's been a while since I've had the time (and both hands) to sit down and type out a blog post, let alone do the laundry, make dinner, take a shower, wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, sweep the floor, organize the bookshelves, sort through baby clothes, solve world hunger, save the whales. etc, etc.

People, especially those with kids, always have some words of advice to give you when you're pregnant with your first child.

"Your life will never be the same again!"

"Be prepared for some sleepless nights!"

"I hope you're ready!"

My response to these people was always, "Oh yes, we're prepared. We're looking forward to it!" (not referring to the sleepless nights, mind you, as we planned to co-sleep from the beginning). I heard what they were saying, but I never really reflected on what kind of impact this kid would have on our lives until he was born. I was prepared (some would say over-prepared) for my labor and delivery, but what I was not prepared for was the near-complete loss of my independence once he was born.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a mom. There are significant rewards to this lifestyle (the contentedly sleeping child I'm currently "wearing" being one of them...and OMG he just let out a sigh...HOW CUTE IS THAT?!? Ahem...anyway...) However, I have to admit, in all honesty, that there are times when I miss being able to veg out and watch Jane Austen movies all day, or bake whenever I feel the inclination. Nowadays I have to run all my activities by a certain small person, who does not much like my attention being focused on anything but him. He's gotten better at entertaining himself in his bouncer while I do simple tasks like make myself breakfast, throw the laundry in the washer, or take a quick shower, but for the most part, he needs my full attention.

It got better once I became accustomed to babywearing. I learned how to wear him on my back so I could accomplish some things while still fulfilling his need for semi-constant contact. It took a month or so to surrender myself to this new life. I'm not just living for me now. This little guy is depending on me, as his primary caregiver, for all of his physical and emotional needs. The dishes will just have to wait.

Speaking of which, I think someone needs a diaper change...

Excuses, Excuses!

I'm sure you've all (maybe) noticed the fact that I promised to have a birth story soon after my last post...and then enter an alternate universe where "soon" actually means "a month from now" without providing any fodder for the waiting period. Well, actually, what happened was that a week after I last posted my entire immediate family came to visit for Thanksgiving, and then a week after that they left. So, after having my mother around for a good month, and having a whole slew of eager baby-holders for a solid week, I found myself alone with a fussy baby and no one to hand him off to so I could throw together a few posts for my blog. As my darling husband put it just the other day, "having a baby really teaches you to be selfless."

In short, I've been having trouble finding time to devote to this blog. I've been told several times that this is just a phase and won't last forever, so rest assured that, at some point in the future, I will be able to devote more time to this blog than I am currently able.

I am working on the birth story, slowly but surely, so I hope to be able to post that in the near future.

I hope everyone had a very merry Christmas!

The Prodigal Blogger

I'm back!

How time flies! I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted something here! I suppose I just felt like I couldn't focus on anything but the impending arrival of little Dominic...and my nesting instinct was wicked strong for the last few weeks before the birth, so I was keeping myself pretty darn busy. Just try to imagine me shuffling/waddling around the house to the frantic tune of "Flight of the Bumblebee":



There, that should ease any angst you may harbor against me for making you wait so long for a post...I hope.

I would like to make a separate post containing the birth story, which will follow very soon after this one. So to whet your appetite until I have that written up, here are some pictures of the much anticipated Mr. Dominic. Enjoy!