Being a Mom is all about sacrifice, says every mother ever. The list is endless. It’s boring to bemoan them. My little baby, H, who is the easiest of all my children, has been trying to tell me something isn’t quite right for nearly all of his nearly four months of life. I’m too pig-headed and stubborn to fully accept it, but now the time has come and I really need to heed it and respect it.
See, since birth, he’s had curious looking stools. I’m somewhat of a overanalyzer when it comes to the bowel movements of my newborn children, so I’ve always known his mucus, pink-tinged stools aren’t quite right. Even though they come out of him looking like a mess, he himself has never displayed any of the tell-tale signs of an allergy. He sleeps well, sleeps long, he’s happy, easy to please. So rather than start the process of eliminating food from my diet, I have just assumed the odd-looking poops are a sign of a virus, maybe, or a slight foremilk/hindmilk imbalance.
Earlier this week I was on a veggie kick, eating huge kale salads and tons of Brassica vegetables (broccoli and cauliflower) and his eliminations were getting very bad. He was gassy too. So I decided to try cutting all those gassy veggies from my diet, at the suggestion of the many mom groups that I’m a part of. Three days later and they look more normal, but still show signs of blood and mucus. So, today, I’m looking the problem directly in the eye. No more dairy.
No more cheese.
No more butter.
Cheese is a great joy of my life. So is butter. This is going to suck. I’ve never really been good at the whole – “dieting thing”. But it’s obvious something I’m eating is not sitting in him right, and despite his happy disposition I owe it to him to figure this out. For him.
Cue a major whine from me for the foreseeable future whilst I lament the missing dairy elements from my life. This, my friends, will be the ultimate sacrifice.