nom nom nom

The topic of infant diet has been coming up in my circles a lot lately. Numerous friends are complaining that their infants – all Squirt’s age or older – refuse to eat solids. Some of these babies won’t touch veggies, some spit out meat, some only want to eat sweets, and none want to eat lumps or anything that remotely resembles “real” food. These repeated conversations have boosted my ego and I now find myself involuntarily trotting around on my high horse.

Things weren’t always this way. I exclusively breastfed Squirt until she was six months old then, I decided, I would begin introducing food. In the weeks leading up to the six month mark, I was a train wreck. I was so stressed out about her eating solids. What should I feed her? How should I feed her? Does feeding her mean she won’t nurse anymore? What if she doesn’t need me anymore? What if she chokes? What if she has an allergy? What if I feed her the wrong things and make her obese? What if what if what if… I finally decided to practice “baby-led” feedings. Essentially, you present your infant with whatever you’re eating and, when she’s ready, she will eat it. The belief is that an infant will not eat before she’s ready and will only eat things she can handle. It, supposedly, helps an infant to establish her own tastes and preferences, while teaching her from the start how to properly chew and swallow. Sounds easy enough.  But – at least at first – it wasn’t. Squirt didn’t want to eat anything I put in front of her. She would play with it, smoosh it around, throw it on the floor, but almost nothing made it to her mouth. I had to keep reminding myself that she would eat when she was ready, but I was feeling the pressure from my other parent friends, who were already feeding their infants three squares of purees with no problem. I began to question this whole “baby-led” idea. In a moment of weakness, I tried to spoon-feed Squirt some puree. No dice. I started to wonder if she would forever live off breastmilk…

Then, one fateful afternoon, daddy handed Squirt a strawberry. By his account, she played with it, smeared it around, and then tasted it. Her eyes popped wide open in surprise and excitement! She then annihilated that strawberry, gnawing away at its tangy flesh and sucking out all of the juice until she was left with just the hard pulp and stem. Victory! But not really… she would only eat strawberries. I continued to offer her a wide variety of foods, which she continued to throw on the floor. But she ate her strawberries.

We carried on like this for weeks. I began to wonder if humans could subsist on just strawberries… Then, near the end of her sixth month, Squirt started tasting the foods I put on her plate. At first, she never ate much, but a little bit of everything made it to her mouth. Before long, though, she began eating. She showed a strong preference for meat, often picking it out to eat first (much to daddy’s delight). She also demanded flavor, often crawling across the table to steal bites off my (more heavily seasoned) plate. Now she eats like a champ, though not most babies. She eats everything I do now – I just chop it up so it’s manageable, though that’s not always required. Now that she has her front teeth (she has five now!), she happily bites into apples or tears meat from her drumstick. Interestingly enough, she, so far, has never bitten off more than she could chew. She loves flavor and intensity, happily noshing on cooked, unsweetened cranberries, kale, and liver. Looking back, she has, in the past four months, eaten more variety than most adults – she has had mackerel, yak, liver, heart, various kinds of paté, romanesco cauliflower, rambutan, dragon fruit, and more vegetables than I can think to list.

The list of foods Squirt now eats could go on for pages. The list of things she hasn’t eaten is short. She has never eaten baby food and has never eaten cereals. She still has never eaten a puree and doesn’t eat those typical baby finger foods people think infants must have in order to gain finger dexterity (she gained that skill from picking up slippery cubes of avocado). Much to the annoyance of her caregivers at daycare, she picks the meat and veggies off of her plate and doesn’t eat the rice they offer (they have commented that she seems “bored” with their food). She loves trying new foods – she inspects it carefully, puts it in her mouth, and obviously contemplates it as she slowly chews it – all of this done with the most serious look on her face. If she doesn’t like it, she won’t take more. If she does like it, she will begin shoveling it in. Feeding her a favorite food is always so much fun. She grins and giggles the whole meal, babbling away as she cleans her plate.

So, no, we don’t have a problem with Squirt eating solids, a fact of which I am increasingly proud, especially as I hear of the challenges of other parents. I have no doubts that Miss Willfulness will go through picky stages as she traverses toddlerhood, but at least she has a strong foundation. Maybe she will only want to eat yak liver and red kale… who knows? I’m sure, though, that she will always love strawberries.

Strawberry! (About six months old.)

Happy, messy diner. (About seven months old.)

By the power of Grayskull!!! (About eight months old.) 

Eating her first whole apple. (About nine months old.)

Cave baby likes to gnaw on bones... (About ten months old.)

Note: Please forgive the blurry pictures. As one might imagine, Squirt does not sit still for very long...

smarty britches redux

A couple of really exciting things happened since my last post. Put simply: walking and talking. While Squirt has been working on these things for quite some time, she hasn't really mastered them. She's been babbling away since the dawn of (her) time. She had her own special word for my boobs since she was a couple months old and has started calling me "momma" around three or four months. A bit after six months, she started calling her dad "dada" and, sometimes, a crystal clear "daddy." She started standing around this time, too. It didn't take her long before she started cruising and standing independently. She'd try a step or two, but quickly decide crawling was the way to go. So she's been practicing. But it seems that she's really starting to figure this stuff out and gain the confidence she needs to master these skills.

Yesterday, Squirt's caregiver at daycare informed me that Squirt had started intentionally walking. She would cruise around the room and, instead of crawling to get from one object to another, she would walk from one object to another. It was never very many steps - just two or three - but its a giant development! One small step for Squirt, one giant developmental leap... After I took her home that evening, she walked down the hallway lightly holding one of my hands (rather than being supported by both). It was amazing, exciting, and terrifying.

Also yesterday, she continued to work on her vocabulary. While we were sitting at the dinner table enjoying our chicken scratch soup, one of our cats started scratching around in the living room. I sternly called out her name to get her to stop. Squirt turned around in her seat, smiled, waved at the cat, and, clear as a teensy bell, repeated her name. The expression on the cat's face was priceless (I'm sure mine was, too).

This morning as we walked into daycare, we played Squirt's "game." I pointed at and identified the trees, flags, and signs. After only one round of identification, Squirt correctly pointed at the different objects when I asked where they were. That alone made me almost burst with pride. But it got even better. As we walked further along the sidewalk, passing the specific objects I had identified, I asked her again, "Where's the tree?" She looked around and pointed at a different tree! I squealed gleefully and raved about how she was right and is oh, so clever.

Things are about to get really, really interesting...

You can tell her brain is working because her bottom lip is sticking out...

smarty britches

Squirt taught me a new game this afternoon during my daily lunch-break daycare visit. I had her in my arms and was walking across the room to sit with her when she pointed at one of the doodads hanging from the ceiling. I paused and told her, "That's a monkey." She smiled and poked at it for a while, then she pointed at another doodad across the room. I walked over to it and said, "That's a fish." We repeated this process until I had identified all of the hanging doodads. I thought that would be the end of that and got ready to sit down so we could play when she pointed at the monkey again. "Monkey," I said. She repeated the process one more time, smiling as I re-identified the doodads. I could almost see the gears in her mind working. On a whim, I asked her, "Where's the monkey?" She immediately pointed at the monkey. I laughed out loud! Surely this must have been a one-time thing. So I asked her, "Where's the fish?" *point* "Where's the balloon?" *point* "Where's the parrot?" *look around... point* We continued this game over and over.

But it gets better.

After a while, she wanted to get down and play, so we sat on the mats and played. I thought I'd try my luck with another brain game. As she played, I started pointing at vividly colored objects, identifying the color. After doing this a few times she would crawl over and touch something of the specified color. I would smile (ok, grin like an idiot is more like it) and praise her: "Yes, that's blue!" And then she would babble "bla bla blllla." When she pointed out something green she would babble "gr ga graa" and with yellow "ya ya ya." I was so amazed and excited! Apparently, she has been doing this for some time at daycare, but I had never noticed! She had to teach me how to play this new "game" and it is so very exciting! She really is a smarty britches and I can't wait to start teaching her more words and object affiliations!

I'm a smarty and I know it.

RAWR

Squirt does not eat gluten. She has always shown subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) signs of an sensitivity, so she just does not eat it right now - a decision with which her pediatrician agrees. My husband and I already take serious offense to that nasty little protein (unless properly fermented in a tasty craft beer or crusty sourdough), following a mostly Primal, sometimes paleo diet, so we had no problems tailoring Squirt's diet accordingly. We have eaten this way for so long (sans gluten) and have anesthetized ourselves to the guffaws of others, so I had almost forgotten how isolating it can sometimes be. Today, I was reminded.

Today, Squirt's daycare hosted a special Valentine snack for the babies and their parents. This "special" snack was a warm, flaky crossoint with cream cheese and strawberry goo to smear on top. They forgot that my girl couldn't eat it (and weren't terribly apologetic, I might add). I know it shouldn't have, but this little oversight really bothered me. If it were just any snack, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but they had been playing it up for over a week - "come to our Valentine snack," "don't forget the snack on Valentine's Day" - and then completely forgot my daughter's dietary restriction. So she didn't get her "special" snack. Since it was technically snack time, they mixed some of the strawberry goo in with some Rice Krispies for her - something they give her most days. Nothing special.

I fully realize I'm being a bit overly sensitive to this, but it broke my heart to see my little girl picking the little lumps of strawberry out of the cereal while the other babies ate cream cheese pastries. If she doesn't outgrow this sensitivity, this is how it's always going to be. She won't be able to eat the birthday cake at the party or the pizza at the sleep over... While I don't want her eating this garbage every day of the week, I don't want her to feel segregated because she can't at all. Growing up, fitting in, and finding friends is already hard enough... But, as a skeptical friend pointed out, children will always find ways of singling each other out and making fun of each other. But, I now realize, they also sometimes surprise us with their compassion and acceptance. Which group would I rather have Squirt find herself in? I guess the best thing we can do is teach her to stick up for herself and be proud of who she is while being comassionate towards other different children.

But today isn't all bad. It's her first Valentine's Day, after all! And, boy, has she been in a fabulous mood! Last night daddy and I gave her a special present - a dinosaur walker/scooter. She was so excited as we took it out of the box and assembled it, but it was too late in the day and she was ready for bed. This morning while I was getting ready for the day, she was motoring around everywhere with it! While, for selfish reasons, I'm not sure I should be encouraging her to walk more, she absolutely loved being able to zip through the house and terrorize the cats (who lately deserve a little more terror in their lives, if you ask me).

RAWR (it means "I love you" in dinosaur - Happy Valentine's Day)!

like a fish

Today, Squirt went to the pool for the first time! Even before we left the house, she knew something was up. She got excited when I pulled out her swimsuit. This was something new! She grinned and giggled and pulled at is as I put it on her, obviously fascinated by this novel outfit. Happy to see that it did fit, I tried to take it off and put her in something warmer so she could take her much-needed nap, but she had other ideas! It was like trying to undress a caffeinated jelly fish (use your imagination). Needless to say, she napped in it... Afterwards, she actually let me pull it off to change her diaper (here's a brilliant idea for the swimsuit companies out there: infant swimsuits with snaps) and put her in a cloth swim diaper.

I wish I could have taken a picture of her face when we first walked into the pool area. I had never seen her eyes so wide (and that's saying something!). That was so much more water than the bathtub! She was so adorably fascinated! Her eyes were absolutely enormous the whole time, and she sucked in her tiny top lip so her bottom stuck out extra far. She only changed her expression periodically when she would suddenly, inexplicably burst into squealing laughter before sucking her lip back in. In the pool, she would paddle her arms and legs, trying to move and loved bobbing and splashing. She was deeply fascinated with the swimmers in the lap lanes next to us and was constantly trying to take it all in, trying to figure out this new experience. She took to the water like a fish and I am so eager to take her back sometime soon!

Ready to take a dip!

ten months ago today

Sitting quietly in my office this morning, enjoying the much-needed, long-waited lull in work, I glanced up at my wall calendar. My eyes landed on the 11th. Tomorrow. In one day, my daughter will be ten months old. Ten! I had been so busy these last several weeks that I didn’t even realize it was almost here! Every monthly milestone has been emotional for me – I both marvel and mourn how quickly she’s growing, I delight in her new developments, I recall the time we’ve shared so far, and I always, always, always remember the period surrounding her birth. Sometimes I feel triumph - I went through so very much to bring her in the world and was so much stronger than I knew I could be; I dipped into the deep, dark pools of post-partum depression and have finally started to come out on the other end! Often, however, I feel defeat and regret. Nothing about her birth went as I had hoped. Indeed, it was my worst nightmare. Today, the day before her ten month mark, I find myself mired in those memories.

Ten months ago tomorrow, my treasured, beloved daughter entered this world and forever transformed my life. Ten months ago today, I was in the throes of labor. I was reaching the halfway point. At this time during that day ten months ago, everything was good. While the labor had been difficult, we didn’t yet know that something was wrong. I was tired, but optimistic. I was unafraid and excited for that final, climactic moment when I would meet and hold my daughter in my arms. I envisioned holding my precious bundle at my chest, gazing into her eyes, weeping with joy and relief as my husband held both of us close. I – and everyone there – felt that moment was near. But then the hours slowly rolled past…

I don’t remember the moment things “got bad.” Upon reflection, there was a very distinct transition, though. While everything seemed beautiful and normal on the outside, around mid-day ten months ago something was wrong on the inside. Fear bubbled up inside of me, threatening to drown out my confidence and excitement. I tried to push it aside. During one surge, while I was reminding myself with gritted teeth “I can do this,” a still, small, crystalline voice spoke in my head – “Something is wrong. You can’t do this.” Never before had I entertained such a thought – never during the pregnancy and never during the labor. But it was as clear and pronounced as someone quietly speaking in my ear. I fought it, arguing with myself that I could do it. I told myself that it was just fear and kept trying to push it away.

That voice wouldn’t stop. During periods of confidence and strength – when I was saying and truly believing “I can do this!” – it would come out of nowhere – “Something is wrong. You can’t do this.” This is when things “got bad.” The labor got increasingly painful. While I had no illusions that labor would be painless and easy, I knew it wasn’t supposed to feel like that. My pelvis felt like shattered glass. I was in agony, beyond agony. Something WAS wrong. But I wouldn’t listen. I kept pushing, kept fighting, kept screaming. No no no no no! Nothing is wrong! I WILL have this baby! I HAVE to have this baby. But she was stuck – shoulder dystocia, though we didn’t know that at the time. It took her going into distress, screaming the only way she could that she needed help.

So at 1 am, ten months ago tomorrow, Squirt was born via emergency cesarean in the hospital I had shunned several months prior. She was pried free of my pelvis and lifted from my belly. I couldn’t see. But I could hear. She was screaming. She was terrified. She was cold. They immediately took her into a corner out of my sight and roughly cleaned her and suctioned her. I heard machines, I heard talking, and above all, I heard her screaming – I will never forget those screams. I will never forget that I wasn’t allowed to hold her, my beloved girl. That beautiful birth I envisioned, that beautiful transition into our new lives together, was gone. At the most important time when we should have been together, we were separated. There was no bliss, no joy, no ceremony. There was fear, defeat, and isolation. My husband stayed with our daughter as they whisked her into the NICU and I laid quietly in the operating room as the surgeon put me back together. At a time when I should have been blissfully intertwined with my daughter and husband, I was in a stark, cold room alone. While the room had been a buzz of voices and activity moments before, it became deathly quiet. I felt cold, empty, alone. I was left alone with my thoughts, which I quickly choked out. They were too much, too loud in that empty space. My feelings were too much, too intense. So I laid in silence, no longer connected to my heart, my daughter.    

So, tomorrow marks the tenth month since that day. In two short months it will be a year. The anniversary of Squirt’s birth – her birthday. It is, most certainly, a joyous occasion! But I know, at least within me, it won’t be just joy. The day of her birth was not the joyful experience every mother deserves. We lost our beautiful rite of passage – her birth into this world and my birth as a mother. I have this in mind as I begin to think about her upcoming birthday. I want to do something very special to commemorate such a sacred day. I want to do something that will symbolize that transition we lost. I want to do something beautiful and treasured to overlay positive, joyful memories on top of the fearful, negative experiences of her birth. I just don’t know what… She is the most precious creature, the most beautiful human. She deserves a truly happy, happy birthday.

So bright-eyed and curious.

one sick bean

Poor Squirt is sick. She has never been so sick. She has been tossing her cookies (wait... she's been eating cookies?) and running a pretty high fever over the last several days. She's been in and out of her pediatrician's office as we've been trying to find some relief for her. She has been so sad and snuggly (read: clingy) - she hasn't let me put her down since last week and daddy (poor daddy) just won't do. She's cutting her two top teeth now, too, which isn't helping. We were starting to get really concerned when we couldn't get her fever down and she wouldn't keep anything in her tummy - medicine, breastmilk, cookies... (Seriously, though, she doesn't eat cookies.) The antiemetic the doc gave her last night has helped, so she's able to drink some and keep her medicine down. Hopefully, this will help give her the strength to kick this bug somewhere really sensitive... I've never seen her so miserable and it's heartbreaking. She's usually such a tough little cookie (again with the cookies!); it's uncharacteristic for her to be so inconsolable. Poor bean.

 She even makes fevers look good.