For the last 173 days (but really, who's counting?) I have been nursing Bjorn. Through the good and the bad. The pain and the dry mouth. The leaking and the overflow. We've been through most everything, and we have learned together how this whole breastfeeding this works.
He's eaten (always covered by a nursing cover my Mom made) in a hockey arena while I watch the last 2 minutes of the game. He's eaten in the middle seat of a crowded, stale-aired airplane. He's eaten while I watch TV, while I rock in my awesome rocking chair and while I sleepily roll over and try to both nap and feed.
To be honest, though, my reasons to breastfeed were selfish.
Yes, I understand that boobie milk is the best nutrition for my little guy. Yes, I understand that he inherits some of my immunities and all of my nutrients.
But really it was supposed to get rid of my baby belly.
Ha! As if!
But that's a post for another day.
When I began breastfeeding, I promised myself that I would do it for at least six months. Since I am lucky enough to have a job that gives me a little more than six months off work, the timing was perfect. And I was also lucky enough to have more than enough milk for the entire baby population of Arizona. Lactation consultants call it "overabundant milk supply". I just call it "embarrassing leakage and choking hazard".
As we get closer and closer to that six month mark, I am itching to stop breastfeeding. Itching to be able to leave the house for more than three hours without worrying about getting back to feed or pump. Itching for someone else to sit with him for 30 minutes as he eats dinner or lunch. Itching to be able to wear real clothes and not worry about what I'm going to be showing off if I have to feed him in public.
And Daddy is itching to be a bigger part of it all.
The Ped suggested that we wait until 6 months to start Bjorn on solid food, but since we already have waited 173 days (again, who's counting?), we figured that was long enough.
Yesterday, we mixed some of my painstakingly pumped milk into a little bowl, stirred in some Gerber rice cereal with a blue plastic spoon and took that big step into Big Boyhood.
And he hated it.
Not that I can blame him. I tried it. It was pretty disgusting. And I've tried my breast milk, too. (Kinda sweet, but really thin. Like a sweet skim milk.) If I had to pick one, it wouldn't be the DHA, Iron Fortified rice cereal either.
Too bad for him, he doesn't get a vote.
Today I am off to the library (because even as an aspiring novelist, I'm too cheap for a bookstore) to find books on pureeing my own baby food. Not because I'm organic or hippie-ish or anything. Again, because I'm cheap. It's so easy to do, and so much less expensive.
But I need help. Suggestions. Do I need to buy a baby pureerer? (spelling??) Or would a food processor get it pureed enough? I already have a Mommy who gave me the suggestion of the Annabel Karmel cooking books. Any others you like for baby's first foods?