So, with no further ado, here are the top ten hints I would give a parent undertaking this approach (with the caveat that I’m not a doctor, just a mom sharing her experience.)

1. Start with big pieces of food like steamed broccoli, crackers and pieces of bread.  At first your baby doesn’t have the motor control to pick up tiny pieces of food, so picking up
2. Your kids want to eat what you eat.  Things get much easier once you can just feed them a bit of whatever you’re having.  If they ask for a bit of what you’re eating, and it’s safe for them to eat,  just give it to them, within reason.
3. They don’t have molars so you need to give them things they can break down without grinding.  No raw apples or raw carrots or raisins.  Peel apples because a baby can’t chew apple skins.  Basically, use common sense.  Raw, very ripe fruits (like mangoes, avocadoes, pears, peaches) are fine, but we found them to be too slippery for our son until long after we started introducing solids.  Some babies can pick up raw fruits better if they are rolled in ground grain cereal, which is also a good way to get them a little iron.
4. Once they can pick up a cheerio, you can give them little pieces of chicken or beef.  Meat is supposed to give babies some of the nutrients they need the most, and our son always loved it.
5. Some kids are slow starters.  Our son played with his food, occasionally getting a bit in his mouth until he turned ten months or so, at which point he became a voracious eater.  Something just clicked, so if your kid doesn’t take to baby-led weaning, or solids in general it may just be that they are not yet ready.
6. Don’t assume they won’t like it.  Asparagus is one of our son’s favorite foods so far.  Introduce lots of exciting foods.  Your baby may like spicy foods, but you’ll never know unless you offer them.
7. Babies love to eat dehydrated fruits and find them very easy to pick up.  You can get it at places like Trader Joe’s – bananas and blueberries are favorites at our house.
8. “Baby foods” are not necessarily better/more nutritious/safer/more appropriate.  Sometimes they are just better marketed.  And the nutritional equivalent of potato chips.  Taste what your kid eats, and if it’s too sweet or salty, you may want to avoid it for a while as kids can get a sweet/salty tooth.
9. Gagging happens.  If you do baby-led weaning, your kid will gag.  This is not the same as choking.  Gagging is about learning how to move food around and swallow it.  It is perfectly healthy and appropriate.  If you can hear your kid cough, they are fine, and you can let them work it out.
10. Choking.  If you give your baby real food, it is likely that someone in your family will become absolutely convinced that your kid is going to choke.  As emphasized in this webcast, if you think about when you’ve choked in the past, it’s often on water or watery substances when you didn’t expect them.  You always need to monitor your kid if you are doing baby-led weaning unless they are eating a food that is very small and/or dissolves in their mouth.

Her point was that we greeted plastics with great enthusiasm, that they’ve made many medical advances possible, and that we haven’t come close to properly studying what they do to our bodies.  Agreed.  

When I was pregnant I was especially careful about BPA.  I stopped eating canned food and drinking water out of water bottles, for the most part, as its effects on the hormones of little boys like the one I was growing are well documented.  This was one of the many steps I took to try and keep my body a safe place for him (which I surely offset by eating a goodly number of double cheeseburgers from McDonalds…I know, I know).  And changing sunscreens, avoiding renovations and the toxic matter that comes with them, changing my diet, etc. seemed like a lot then, but at least I had a list of what to do.

Having an almost toddler sure raises my awareness of how many plastic are around us.  Active, inquisitive, developmentally appropriate Joel teaches me every day how many plastic bags and wrappers and ties and strings and everything else we have around us all the time.  I want to keep him from suffocating or choking, so I keep the bags away from him, but what about the rest of the plastics?  He chews everything he gets his hands on, and has the sharpest teeth ever, so he can scrape the paint off of those beautiful wooden toys (and then swallow it), the fabric toys are from China and probably soaked in formaldehyde, and I end up giving him plastic kitchen implements, rings, and other toys more often than not.  It seems like he’s destined to absorb huge quantities of poisons, but I still want to try to keep him safe.

Maybe the thing I should learn is that this is the first battle of so many I will fight to try to keep him safe and healthy and happy and that winning is a matter of degree.  And that our knowledge is always incomplete and just making it through this life relatively unharmed is a miracle in itself.  

So I resolve to do my best and protect Joel from what I can while letting him explore the world, and also to bury my head in the sand enough to stay sane.  I guess?  Anybody have any other ideas for me?

Babies that young are truly amazing, though, in part because they remind us that we are animals.  They are governed by their instincts, instincts that serve them quite well and have ensured the survival of our species for milenia.  Their newborn cry sounds like something from the time of the dinosaurs.  Its ability to spur us to action is impressive indeed.

Animals live mostly in their bodies, and are in touch with their instincts, and so often we adults live primarily in our minds.  The process of giving birth, and to a lesser degree being pregnant also reminds you that your body can do things beyond your ability to understand and control.

We’ve got these minds that think they’re so smart when our bodies really run the show, with their complex tasks and hormones and chemicals.  If you’re a woman, most likely your body can actually manufacture another human being.  This is, of course, and amazing and beautiful thing, but it’s also unsettling, isn’t it?

Then, at the end of the crazy birth process, with no break to take a shower and catch your breath a little, you become a parent and are immediately responsible for another human being with all of these amazing and urgent needs.  I’m out of breath just writing about it.

What can this animal state of our babies teach us?  To listen to our own animal instincts.  They are powerful and can guide us.  Listening to my instincts was one of the few sources of insight I had heading into parenthood.  And honestly, at two in the morning when the baby is crying and you’re at the end of your rope, your conscious mind isn’t doing much for you anyhow.  So you might as well tune into the animal part of you that may be able to tell you what to do with this clearly unhappy creature lying in your arms.

I suspect that the animal part of us, properly recognized and filtered, could help many of us who are so convinced that we know everything and can analyze our way through any given situation.  I’ve been in seminars where the “reptilian brain” was blamed for all of our negative and rude actions.  And this isn’t wrong, exactly, it’s just only part of the picture.  I’m convinced that our animal selves can tell us what’s going on in a situation in a way other parts of us can’t.  It’s when we don’t listen to the animal, instinctive  part of ourselves that it emerges in unsavory ways.

So, a challenge for the day: notice how your body feels today, and what your instincts are.  Hold off on analyzing and just let your intuition do its thing for a few seconds in an important situation.  And see if your day doesn’t get a little better for it.

When our kiddo was first born no one had ever told us he wouldn’t really look at us.  I’ve heard this same complaint from other parents, so, for all the parents-to-be out there, here’s your official notice: your kid will not acknowledge your existence until a good two months in.  You’ll spend all day and night ministering to their every need: wiping up the drool and god knows what else, getting no sleep whatsoever, dressing them in the cutest of clothing (okay, that part’s for us) and they won’t even so much as look at you.

From what I’ve heard, this is because they are so focused on what’s going on inside their little bodies that they can’t acknowledge much outside of themselves.  I should have guessed as much from how they call the first three months of life the fourth trimester: really it’s just another part of the pregnancy but on the outside of the body so of course they won’t really care that you’re there.  But when you get no eye contact for months on end, it’s quite unnerving.

By the time that first smile came, we were ready, and I mean, really ready.  It was like God herself had come down to tell us it was all going to be worth it, some day, and this whole thing about how it’s rewarding to be a parent was not just some sort of propaganda.

But really, when you think about it, our kids have their priorities straight.  We all need to get our own houses (body, soul, heart) in order before we focus on what the rest of the world needs from us.  Otherwise we’re likely to get all prickly.

Once he finally focused on all those other crazy people out there, Joel was ready to mingle.  He would smile at every older lady at the supermarket, all the shopkeepers, everyone.  That social was turned on strong.  Only after a month or so of this did he finally start noticing all those toys we kept putting in front of his face.  And that’s as it should be.  People are way better and more interesting than toys.  When a kid finally notices they exist, that’s a moment to be reveled in.

Now he’s not as into smiling at random folk.  He’s a bit pickier as to who he gives those great grins out to.  And he really knows who his parents are.  Which is kind of nice, given all the time we’ve put in.

These days I’m especially in touch with this kind of work.

During my pregnancy I realized in a new way the tremendous energy and effort it takes to create a healthy baby using only the tools available in your own body.  It still astounds me that I built this little kid and produced from my own cells and tissues almost all the food that’s gone into him.  My pregnancy was not a particularly difficult one but it still exhausted me and drew my attention to what I ate and drank in a way that little in my life ever had.

Once Joel came out (let’s not even get into the work of labor and delivery of a baby) I woke with him and fed him every two or three hours.  I’ve still not had a full eight hours of sleep since he was born.  All of you folks out there without kids, take a minute and think that through:  when you have a newborn and are breastfeeding you have to wake up every two or three or four hours for many months.  I suspected before Joel was born that this would be the most difficult part of being the parent of a newborn, but the texture of what this kind of dedication felt like was lost on me until I actually did it.

In a class I took with other pregnant women we often talked about pumping like it would solve all of our issues:  it would gift us with sleep and nights out and free time.  Our breastfeeding peer counselor emphasized that a panacea was indeed not in the offing.  After Joel was born and before my supply was regulated, one session of pumping would mean engorgement for a couple of days.  Even now, attaching a pump during what is often my only free time in the day isn’t exactly at the top of my list of soul renewing activities, so I don’t do it all that often.

All of this doesn’t even start to discuss the concepts my professor intended by the term “reproductive labor.”  Cleaning and cooking and childcare and all the tiny and huge tasks involved in keeping a household going are time-consuming and surprisingly exhausting.  I’m busy and constantly alert in a way I never was before this kid arrived.

It’s a real shame that these tasks are valued so little in our society: making a living through childcare is almost impossible, and most of our cooks earn very little.  We all know that if a task is designated as “woman’s work,” except if done by famous (usually male) chefs, doing this work professionally is likely to be low-wage and not particularly valued by our society.

There are great joys that come with having the freedom to stay with my child and structure my day around meeting his needs.  I look forward to a time when focusing on my own needs can again be a major factor in my day, but while my son is newborn is not that time.  This life brings me great joy.  I’m grateful to my partner for earning a family wage which enables me to take care of my son full-time.  I’m thankful that we don’t have to rush out of the house in the morning to get our little guy to daycare and I greatly enjoy the pleasure of seeing my son’s motor development every single day.

This holiday season, I’m even more aware of the tremendous work women have done over the centuries to create the wonderful foods we eat at the holidays along with their usual work of creating the people who will make up our next generation, and keeping our households running.  May we all express a little extra appreciation to those in our life who carry out the reproductive labor that makes our days a bit easier.

Change your scenery often

Even just moving to a different room really helps my son get into a better mood.  For a major mood changer, going outside or giving him a bath really helps.  In general in life I’ve found that if I’m stuck in the same place for too long – at my desk or in front of the car especially – my mood goes down hill, or at least stagnates.  Joel’s impetus to keep on moving works as a general life lesson.

If your mood’s really bad, just bounce

For Joel, this means that we take him to the big green exercise ball we have and bounce him up and down (while holding his head still) and he gets calm, then sleepy pretty quickly.  I’ll generalize this by saying that healthy coping mechanisms are good for all of us to keep in mind when the going gets rough.  For me, a bath almost always cures what ails me, and if that doesn’t work a good conversation with one of my closest friends does wonders.

When it’s time to go, leave

Sometimes we just have to acknowledge that a certain activity: driving, shopping, walking around in a stroller, just isn’t working for the day.  And we just bounce on out of there.  When I set a clear agenda, expect to get someplace on time, or generally get too rigid about anything, Joel often changes my plans for the day.

In general in life, I find that it’s best to remember that the only person’s behavior I can control is my own, but that’s a lot.  I’m not obligated to stay at any event or in any relationship or place that just isn’t working for me.   It’s been liberating to realize that I don’t have to talk to that person handing out leaflets on the street, the telemarketer, or even that chatty person in the grocery store.  I can still be nice, but I don’t have to break my stride.

Here are some of the stories I’ve seen my friends post on the web:

passing this on from a friend: “Youri Chevry;s house collapsed with 2 adults and 3 kids inside. #22 rue marcadieu, bourdon. They are said to be alive but stuck. Anyone who can go help please do! 3 ppl are stuck under the house, Ingrid Jaar, her mom and her sister! we need to find help to get them out of there.we.10 rue marcadieu bourdon. port-au-pri…nce haiti.put it on your facebook so everyone can try to help

The streets of Port-au-Prince are nothing more than a gaping wound, where corpses are tangled with the remains of houses, shops… Schools and hospitals crumble, people are buried under the tons of rubble, waiting for a hand that will come to their aid …. Today it is very difficult to maintain hope, but as the saying goes, hope makes us live, so let us all join hands and keep hope alive.” Radio Metropole, Haiti

And requests for volunteers:

Partners in Health is organizing medical volunteers. Pass along link if you know folks who might be interested. http://pih.org/inforesources/news/Haiti_Earthquake.html#volunteer

The internet creates new opportunities for passing news from person to person, and hopefully for meeting urgent needs.  Another friend immediately posted this opportunity to donate:

Donate now, pay later! Text “HAITI” to 90999 to donate $10 towards Red Cross relief efforts in Haiti (and use next month’s mobile phone bill to demonstrate your charitable nature).

In times like this people do give.  I’m reminded of this by the many status updates of my friends that urge individuals to give.  The money given now and in weeks and months to come will help Haiti rebuild over the next months, and that aid will be even more effective if the Haitian government can coordinate in this effort.

I’m also grateful to see friends make efforts to use this time to educate about Haiti’s history:

Haiti was the only country in which ex-slaves were expected to pay a foreign government  for their liberty. By 1900, 80% of its national budget was spent on repayments. In 1947, Haiti paid off the original reparations, plus interest. Doing so left it destitute, corrupt, disastrously lacking in investment and politically volatile.”

Cancel Haiti’s debt | FP Passport

blog.foreignpolicy.com

As we all pray for those in Haiti now, and give to efforts to provide emergency assistance and rebuild, let’s hope that this moment of solidarity with our brothers and sisters in another land will last for the months and years it will take to put Haiti into a better place than it was before this earthquake.  Because even then, the daily emergency of life there called out for our outrage and action.

During the snow storm a few weeks ago, we were really holed up in our little home/cave, and it felt right.  We ate everything in the refrigerator and cupboards in preparation for leaving town and because we couldn’t go out and buy more food.  I must admit though that we felt quite liberated when we were able to drive a mile down the road and share some French fries at a local fast food establishment.

Getting snowed in, with flakes piling up a food high on our windowsill, was strange and delicious.  Feeling the air again and driving down the road felt like pure liberation.

I can’t wait to show my child their first snow.  We heard the heartbeat last week and I’m starting to feel less tentative about accepting that, at the end of this journey, there may be an actual live human being grown by my body.  What a miracle.  For which I am indeed grateful.

The passing of this new year reminds me of how I spent the last: on my knees praying with a small Christian community in Jinocuao, Nicaragua.

I gave thanks that day that my sister, who had been sick, was now well, and happy that we would welcome a baby that new year.  The community truly rejoiced with me.  Though we live in very different circumstances, they could understand the pain of wondering if an ill relative would ever recover, the intense worry of that moment, and the even more intense joy of welcoming a child, a blessing from God, into the family.  And what an intense joy indeed this little Kayla has been for us.  More than we could have imagined she has changed us, reminded us of the possibilities of creation.

This advent especially resonates for me.  Just as Mary was, I am waiting for the birth of my first child.  And so far that’s the main thing pregnancy has meant for me: waiting.  Waiting to start seeing some physical sign of this pregnancy.  Waiting to hear the heart beat.  Waiting, eventually, for the arrival of this kid.

Also, it has somehow never struck me how much we don’t focus on Mary’s labor.  Yes, Jesus was born, but Mary sacrificed greatly to make it happen.  We talk about the social censure she endured because she conceived a child out of wedlock, but, at nine months pregnant, she sat on a donkey for hours, if not days, and eventually gave birth in a dirty barn.  Not exactly the ideal birth plan I’d envision.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot to do in this waiting: find an obstetrician, pediatrician, birth classes, make a nest for the little one.  But, mostly, it’s about waiting.  And since my partner and I tried for almost two years to get this last nine months waiting to arrive, we’re very ready for this kid to get here.

So this Christmas, I’ll remember Mary’s waiting, and her laboring  How much longer the wait for Christ’s birth must have seemed to her than to us.

There are many factors I thank for this fortuitous turn of events.  The main one is that previously, I was trying to get pregnant in between a million different things.  I actually wrote an e-mail on my blackberry during one insemination procedure.  Talk about divided attentions.  My stress level was through the roof, and stress has been proven to have a negative impact on conception.  And my struggle, though intense, was very private.  I felt very isolated by my inability to concieve a child.

When I left my job, started focusing on what I really wanted my life to look life, and invited my broader group of friends and family to accompany me through the challenge of infertility, the stars aligned and I became pregnant the next time I tried.  In the end, I even prayed to every statue of the Virgin Mary in the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.  Which thing worked?  I’ll never know, just as I’ll never know what caused my infertility.

But I feel ushered into this more than welcome pregnancy by the many friends and family members who wrote me notes upon learning of the changes I had made in my life and my goal of becoming pregnant.  I’m grateful for their prayers and good wishes.  It’s hard to get used to focusing more on creating life and nesting than on changing the larger structures that govern our world, as I had for most waking moments the previous ten or so years of my life.  Ultimately, though, I feel grateful for the changes that have occurred in my life because they led me to refocus on what I want my life to look like, and ultimately, my life fits me much better now than it did before.