Boob Salutations, Co-sleeping with my Toddler, and Trust

“I finally figured out what my breasts are for,” I said to my husband the other night. For feeding my little suckling pig, of course! Sometimes these days the way my son lunges for them and sucks reminds me of a little animal. And no longer will I ever look upon my breasts as some sensual, yet essentially “useless” fleshy, doughy appendage. When my son nurses it is utterly obvious now why they were created—not for my partner’s pleasure, much less for the ogling eyes of men on the street, and not even for my own enjoyment. Breasts, hands down, are for babies.

When Cedar was first born they grew huge, hard, and sometimes clogged with milk. For six months—or more like nine—I wore nursing bras religiously, accepting their less than flattering support for the convenience of being able to whip out the breast at a moment’s request. Eventually, though, I realized that they’d shrunken back down to my pregnancy size and that I could fit back into a couple of my nicer bras. Cedar also wasn’t nursing as much by then, so I could usually just nurse him at home and there’d be no emergency need to feed in public—which exposes more flesh than I’d prefer, especially when not wearing a nursing bra.

It’s been a relief to not have to nurse quite as much in public, simply because it’s a hassle to have to stop what you are doing and find a comfortable, clean place to sit down yet still be discreet. That said, I don’t plan to stop nursing anytime soon. I still love nursing--and as my baby undeniably makes the transition to toddlerhood, I appreciate this ritual that much more.

Nursing has changed since when Cedar was a baby. Long gone are the days when he’d just lie there inert for over an hour sometimes, and gone are the days when he’ll easily fall asleep at the boob. Now, at times, nursing can feel more like an acrobatic sport. We still mostly nurse lying down on the bed, only now Cedar will stick his butt up in the air and nurse in a “downward dog” position. Or, he’ll want both breasts to be out and accessible so he can switch back and forth as he pleases. He’ll let me know this by signing for milk, tugging at my bra, or simply grunting in his all-encompassing language, “Uh.” (Amazingly, I almost always know what “uh” means.) I indulge his requests, as long as he is actually nursing and not say, patting at my other boob, biting, or pinching my other nipple. That’s where I draw the line. Mostly though, his antics amuse me. He can be a goofy kid, and I am more prone to indulge silliness than stifle it.

Cedar nurses the most in the morning when he wakes around 6:30. I am usually still half-asleep, so I’m not sure how long exactly he nurses for, but it feels like a long time—half an hour, sometimes more? On both boobs. Lying down, draped across me, downward dog, moving through all the positions—call it “Boob Salutations.” Then during the day he usually only nurses for five minutes or so at a time, before or after his two naps. Before bedtime, he nurses for another 10-30 minutes depending on whether he’s in the mood to fall asleep that way or not. And although I’ve tried not to nurse him every time he wakes up at night, I’ve recently gone back to just wanting him to fall back asleep as quickly as possible (in order to gain back more of my evening with Matthew or to go back to sleep myself), so that means that I usually nurse for about 5-10 minutes every 2-3 hours throughout the night.

For those who co-sleep, this may not come as a big surprise—a fourteen month old who still wakes and nurses through the night. For others, it probably sounds like hell and you are probably quietly thanking your own wisdom in choosing not to co-sleep. For me, by now, I’ve pretty much accepted this situation. I went through a few periods of “we’ve got to change this night waking problem!” resolve, but Elizabeth Pantley’s ‘”no-cry sleep solution” nipple removal techniques didn’t seem to reduce his waking, and nor did my husband’s intervention (we’ve been having him go to Cedar when he wakes before we’ve gone to bed ourselves, and although this has helped Cedar learn to go to sleep better without me and the boob, it can also take forever and has not helped him wake any less).

I know I would sleep better (duh) if Cedar wasn’t waking so much still, but that said, I am mostly only half-waking when he half-wakes, and unconsciously putting the boob in his mouth for a quick fix before we’re both snoozing quietly again. I know Cedar isn’t hungry. I know that this is now a firmly entrenched habit (or call it ritual if you want it to sound better). I know that it could potentially be broken with “only” a couple weeks (or more) of night weaning torture (especially since we are not planning to stop co-sleeping any day soon), but frankly I’m not ready to put us through that yet.

I am all for doing what’s easiest, as long as it’s still working for us. There were periods when Cedar was waking even more than he is now when I wasn’t so sure it was “working” anymore. But now, it’s been several months with no real complaints from me, aside from the occasional off night. Cedar no longer wakes from gas at night, unless I happen to have been testing eating or feeding him some new food that doesn’t settle well. Mostly now, I think Cedar’s waking now just comes with the territory of co-sleeping.

When Matthew and I were trying to decide whether or not to co-sleep, I read all kinds of literature that proclaimed how mama and baby both sleep better when co-sleeping-- yet I also read things that said they both sleep lighter and wake more. Contradictory? Perhaps. I don’t want to fully debate the merits versus shortcomings of co-sleeping here, but suffice it to say that since we didn’t and don’t plan to switch to a crib, we’ll never really know if Cedar would have slept better that way. Sometimes I think he would, because sometimes me and Matthew’s movements or sounds (when first coming to bed at night, for instance) wake him. Also, even though we have a king-sized bed, sometimes Cedar rolls over virtually on top of me, and then I have to move him and then he stirs, nearly wakes, and so I nurse him quickly so that he won’t wake for real.

And yet, despite all this, I’m still tempted to believe that co-sleeping was the best choice for us all. Not only was it a practical choice since we have a tiny house, but I also can only imagine what it would have been like to have to get up each time he woke during the many hard months when his intestinal issues would cause him to wake crying in pain in the middle of the night, and how long it might have taken for both of us to fall back asleep. And now, even without his gas problems, I can’t really imagine giving up co-sleeping. Ultimately we chose to go this route because we wanted to. And now, I’m as attached to it as Cedar is.

For those who choose to co-sleep, there is undeniably something we love about it, something we grow close to, something that ingrains itself in us over the many months we do it. When you grow used to being so close to the soft breath of your baby upon drifting to sleep, it feels strange and wrong to have him elsewhere. When you grow used to those morning snuggles and nursing sessions and the “wolf pack” feeling of all being in one bed, it seems like it’d be hard to arbitrarily pick an age when the baby is moved into a separate space. Of course, if you didn’t enjoy anything about co-sleeping in the first place, it’d be a no-brainer to boot the baby, for you’d gain back luxurious space to stretch your limbs and freedom to make love or read or whatever else you do for pleasure at night in your bed.

It’s not a black and white issue for me. There are definite pros and cons. I don’t know if we would do it differently if we were to have another one. A part of me says, yes, definitely, we would move that baby into a crib after that initial, intense newborn stage of constant nursing-- by four months perhaps… or maybe six. But then I wonder if I’d really be able to. Perhaps if turns out to be a really hard transition getting Cedar out of our bed and if he goes on to have trouble sleeping alone, I will rethink this strategy. And yet, I’m not really that worried about this transition; beyond the initial getting used to, I think that most kids who co-slept as babies and toddlers end up doing just fine on their own. Mostly, it’s just hard to imagine doing things differently than whatever you and your partner have chosen. We gravitate to what we know. It’s easier to go with the status quo than to tempt the unpredictable results of executing change.

Some might be surprised to learn that even the most stringent sleep-training experts (think Weisblaum and Ferber) now both have sections in their books that allow for co-sleeping as a viable, healthy option. Weisblaum talks about how if a mom chooses to nurse immediately upon demand at night and the baby consequently doesn’t wake all the way, then the baby’s sleep cycles are not disturbed and so there is no “sleep problem.” Along these lines, I feel Cedar is well-rested (except for the occasional off night). And hands down, he’s got a secure attachment to me, to us. Hands down, he’s got a cozy bed.

But what about you, you say? What about my sleep cycles, I say? Well, most days I feel fine. I have plenty of energy, and only drink a couple cups of tea a day—not coffee, but tea! Of course, I’m not required to use my brain that much or sit in meetings or talk to other adults, so it is entirely likely that if I had a different “day job” I might discover that my mental capacity is sub par—but that’s what coffee’s for, right? I go to sleep at 10:30 or 11 most nights and I get up around seven. I get a decent night’s rest, even if you should probably subtract an hour or so for the nightly interruptions of my sleep cycle (even if I am not technically even awake for an hour).

True, I admit I am also excited for the day when Cedar moves to his own bed and when I am not waking (briefly) every two or three hours. But I also know I’ll miss co-sleeping. Just like I’ll miss nursing when Cedar is eventually weaned. I’ll miss that snuggly feeling of fitting inside each other’s bodies. I’ll miss the way he throws his foot on top of my belly and leg, I’ll miss the way he rests a hand on my breast. I’ll miss the perfect way in which we fit together within this act of nourishment.

My body makes the perfect nutrients for you, my little one. Nutrients that have kept you healthy, with only one cold the entire fourteen months of your life, not to mention providing a major source of your daily diet that is free. I don’t have to worry about you not getting enough to eat, because I know you will make up for it when you nurse. And although it has no doubt been challenging to have to restrict my diet because of your sensitivities (I’m still not eating dairy, soy, garlic, onions, citrus, tomatoes, coffee and chocolate—with an occasional exception), I choose this any day over having you wake in pain or get a red itchy rash on your face.

I’ve never considered not nursing you. First of all, there’s no easy solution since you couldn’t even have dairy- or soy-based formulas to supplement. But mostly, breastfeeding just seems like the most natural, bonding act for me. You came into this world with the instinct to root and nurse, and despite all the ways in which you are growing and changing from a little baby into a little boy (oh my!), nursing is this seamless link that we have, this way of connection and love. You’ll have your whole life to be more “independent” and weaned. What’s another year at the breast?

I know plenty of moms who are still nursing and co-sleeping with their toddlers. In our Seattle culture, it is not so strange; even the World Health Organization recommends nursing until at least two. But I know that the older my son gets, the more strange our choices may seem to others—and I admit, I don’t really want to have my son run up to me on the playground for a quick nip. So the older he gets, the more seldom we will nurse, until eventually one of us will decide that it’s time to stop altogether.

Which will come first—weaning from the breast or weaning from co-sleeping? Hard to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if they happen close together. Maybe not at the exact same time, so as to ease the transition. But they are tied together for us. It would be hard to wean while still co-sleeping, though not impossible. And it would similarly be hard to move Cedar to his own bed and simultaneously deny him this great source of comfort he’s known since birth. So we’ll see, keep taking it day by day. Keep making the choices that feel right for us.

At a certain point, I just stopped caring what the books said—whether they were of the mainstream variety or in the attachment parenting vein. I found that all the reading, questioning and plotting based on someone else’s recommendations just made me feel stressed out or guilty about my own choices that diverged from the norm. I found that once I accepted that I was doing things the way I was because they felt right, and not because I could rationalize them into being right, then the arguments for pros and cons dropped away.

I am learning to accept that in parenting there is no “perfect” way to do things. There is only the one winding, messy, and unique path that you and your family carve out for yourself. And this path is based on way too many variables—both the seen and the unseen—to follow any one singular guide but your own.

Baby Notes: A Food Sensitivity, Muscle Testing, Banana Eating, Elimination Diet Saga Update

Every day for the last seven months I’ve written down in a little notebook everything I eat and drink, everything I feed Cedar, every time Cedar goes to sleep and wakes up, whether he’s had any gas or a rash that day, and whether I’ve put hydrocortisone on his face.

I have three makeshift columns: the left side is sleep; the middle is what I feed Cedar plus any gas or rash symptoms for the day; and the right column is what I put in my body—which usually starts with tea (x2) and ends with wine. My handwriting is messy and much of the  notes are coded in a way that only I would understand (AB is almond butter; if something is circled it means I’m suspicious of it; if something is circled and starred it means it is something new I’m introducing; if something is highlighted it means I went back and tried to trace correlations over time; and, if there has been a reaction then I scribble all over the page, drawing arrows and question marks, making my best guess for the source.

As the months have progressed and as Cedar’s gas and rash problems have mostly gone away, I’ve gotten more relaxed about not recording every last thing— for example I might write down “chicken pasta” without listing the other ingredients—let’s say olives, mushrooms, balsamic, and zucchini—because I’m not worried about the dish and I trust I’ll be able to remember what was in it if I should need to go back and double check what I ate the last few days. I also might even skip a few days now, if, say, Cedar is mostly with his grandma for the weekend and thus I don’t know when he slept and woke as precisely; it’s good for me to let go a bit—and tracking sleep is more out of habit now than really necessary. (I will however go back and write down what I ate, roughly, especially if there was anything new or something old that I’ve still nevertheless had my suspicions about).

You might think I’m being a bit obsessive, but keeping this record has helped me figure out a lot of what would otherwise still be mysteries. To explain this, I’ll need to back up a bit, and also refer you to my old elimination diet saga post if you want all the background details. But in a nutshell, after many months of self-sacrifice, I figured out that Cedar was sensitive to: dairy, soy, garlic, tomatoes, plus various gassy vegetables and beans that I’ve continued to stay away from to this day. By now, with Cedar being almost one year old, I’m willing to test or retest virtually anything, but this process is still very time consuming. There isn’t a day that goes by where I am not either gauging the reaction of something new I’ve eaten or something new that I’ve fed Cedar, and waiting the requisite three days in between each new food. Plus, so often, results have been inconclusive and so I’ve had to go back and test things multiple times.

Cedar’s gas symptoms mostly went away once I figured out the main culprits. But they never went away completely, and nor did his rash, and then once I started introducing solids it became even harder to be sure what his lingering reactions were now from. Finally I got it together to visit a new naturopath, and she let me know an appropriate dosage of fish oil to give Cedar each day (1/2 a teaspoon), in addition to the 1 tablespoon I was already taking myself. This was for his eczema, and seemed to help a lot. I also started taking probiotics, and gave Cedar a pinch most days too for his tummy, which may or may not be helping, but it doesn’t hurt. The ND also suggested I check out the ingredients in my prenatals, and to my shock and frustration I discovered that there was soy lecithin in the coating! Soy was something that Cedar had some of his strongest reactions to, and here it was in the very pill I was taking every single day for his benefit. Oh, the irony.

Around the same time that I visited the ND, I also decided to contact a woman in Olympia who does muscle testing for allergies who had been recommended to me by several friends. “Applied kineseology” is a method of holding a series of little vials filled with different foods and potential allergenic substances against your body (or in my case, the body of my baby while I am holding him), then holding out your arm and having the practitioner press down on your arm to test for various levels of “muscle weakness”. Theoretically, when your arm stays strong and solid, there is no allergy detected. But with some substances, your arm goes weak and will offer no resistance to the person pushing, try as you may. I know this sounds a bit strange, and I’m sure you could get a better explanation of it somewhere online (along with sources that call it hokey which I’m glad I didn’t read before I went in or it may have prevented me from going). All I knew was that several of my friends had tried it for their children and wholeheartedly recommended this woman -- and these were intelligent, informed, open-minded women. It cost $60 for one hour-long session to test scores of substances and it was non-invasive. I figured it was worth a try.

I ended up taking Cedar to this woman twice. The phenomena of feeling my arm go weak in some instances and not others (without knowing what was being tested at the time) made me a believer. That, and the fact that the sessions confirmed what I already knew: that Cedar was sensitive to dairy, soy, tomatoes, and garlic. But more importantly, I also discovered a few surprises: sensitivities to onions, citrus, coffee and chocolate, too. Now, mind you, I had tested each of those things via the elimination diet; in fact coffee was the very first thing I reintroduced (which tells you how much I like it)-- and I had detected no reaction. But when I’d first tested coffee, I only had half a cup (then a little more a couple days later, until gradually over time I was drinking over a cup a day again). And when I tested onions several months later into the diet, I only had a little bit (knowing that Cedar was super sensitive to garlic, I was worried about its cousin). I had been a little suspicious when I’d tested citrus, and thereby concluded that a few squeezes here and there were okay, but whole oranges or glasses of juice were not. Now, I realized that it was entirely possible that these were all foods which, if I had a little here and there, there would be no obvious reaction. But if I ate or drank some combination of them every day, the cumulative effect would take its toll.

Sure enough, once I eliminated these last four things, Cedar’s lingering gas disappeared, as did his rash for the most part. I was bummed to give up onions and citrus since these added a lot of flavor to my no garlic, dairy, or soy diet. And though I knew I’d miss my coffee and chocolate, it was not that hard to give them up knowing that I was finally so close to solving the food allergy puzzle that I’d invested so much energy into for months now. There was nothing more satisfying than to finally get to the end of this intensely consuming investigation!

Of course, I wasn’t going to just blindly trust whatever the muscle lady confirmed, but once my own experimentation corresponded with our session’s results, I had no problem in believing in her methods. Sure, it still sounds a little hokey to me when I imagine explaining the method to those whom I know are going to raise their eyebrows with suspicion (e.g. my parents). But all I know was, it helped us, and this wasn’t any ‘placebo effect’ since we’re talking about Cedar’s responses and not mine-- and Cedar doesn’t know what I’m eating or not eating.

Our bodies are mysterious, sensitive, and complicated organisms. We manifest and register illnesses in such a magnitude of ways. Within the natural medicine world, this muscle testing practice is widely accepted and it is also used by many chiropractors. My mother-in-law, who is a counselor and hypnotherapist, also uses a form of muscle testing known as EMDR as a part of her practice, specifically for patients who’ve experienced trauma. You ask them a question and they respond by raising different fingers for yes or no. Our bodies know so many things that our minds suppress.

There is also a process of “clearing” an allergy which involves holding the offending substance (in the vial) next to your skin while having certain pressure points massaged at the same time, thus reconditioning the body to accept the substance. Although we did try this for Cedar for a couple things (why not?), I have less faith in this process (and time or money to invest in it), since it supposedly can take a few sessions to fully clear it. It does sound a little “too easy” to me, and perhaps I’m a little too traumatized to want to rush into giving Cedar soy or garlic again. But I am open to the possibility that it works in ways that are beyond my own abilities to easily explain. I’m also convinced that the world of naturopathic medicine has a lot more to offer to the growing rate of those who suffer from food allergies than Western medicine has been able to come up with. Where the pediatric dermatologist told me, “We mostly never know what causes the eczema,” the naturopath said, “Something is causing it and we need to figure out what it is.”

That said, I’m content for now with just staying away from dairy, soy, garlic, onions, citrus, tomatoes, coffee and chocolate, knowing that I won’t be breastfeeding forever and that Cedar will likely outgrow most of his sensitivities in time. I am however planning to try little bits of cheese (I heard that some dairy-sensitive people can often tolerate mozzarella), along with other foods that Cedar may be able to handle the older he gets. I want to try some organic soy sauce we found versus the regular GMO kind, as well as try cooked tomatoes versus fresh, and try dairy that’s baked into foods versus raw—all of which I’ve heard from a conglomerate of random sources that a some food sensitive people can better tolerate. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m still oh so eager to introduce Cedar to more foods (it’s so fun- so satisfying to see his facial reactions each time, not to mention to keep building a varied, flavorful diet for him), so it’s always a trade off—who gets to try something new this week?

Sometimes it seems like this is all taking so long, so I get impatient and thus more sloppy, not waiting the full three days in between trying new foods, or else eating something and giving Cedar something (both of which I’m not positive are okay) around the same time. I have tried goat cheese three times already, and every time I haven’t been sure about the results. (Was that slight rash from the dairy or from the cold air? Or was it from the coffee, onions, or citrus I was still eating back then?) Speaking of citrus, I only recently realized that lemon was in the Canola mayonnaise that I’ve been eating (with relish, I might add, once I deemed that eggs were okay). Which means that the food reaction I noted to banana during that time I was having a plethora of chicken salad sandwiches was not necessarily the banana. Sigh. Even after months of this process, I still make mistakes. If nothing else, this diet is a practice in careful regimenting and patience.

Yesterday, I gave Cedar banana again, letting him have a third of one. He loves tasting banana, and often reaches for it when I am eating it, so I was really hoping banana would be okay. It’s one of those easy foods that everyone always has around, no need to heat up or puree. Well, a few hours later—and all night long—Cedar squirmed and cried out in pain. All night long he sucked on my boob for comfort. Poor guy. Poor mama. We are both very tired today, and I’m not sure his tummy pangs have fully gone away. Now I know for sure: bananas are not okay. They may be fine for me to eat, but this is no way to gauge whether Cedar’s delicate system can handle it.

And so the food, gas and rash saga continues. Overall, however, the diet is much less work now, but still our life is not without it’s occasional wakeful nights of discomfort or regret for not being careful enough. And Cedar’s rash is way better too; I only put a dab of hydrocortisone on it about once a week versus almost every day, and otherwise keep his skin well hydrated with all-natural oils and creams.

For now, I experience a small triumph every time I eat something or give Cedar something new, and there is no reaction. Yay- chicken is okay for Cedar! Yay- shrimp, beans, collards, and ginger are okay for me! The main thing I’ve been craving is CHEESE, in all its luscious forms, and by extension of this, also PIZZA. First, I’ll need to test that tomato paste though, and then we’ll have to make it at home of course since I can’t have garlic or soy oil which could be in many crusts.

Yes, it’s a constant challenge and game to see what I can get away with. And, it’s a constant return to feelings of remorse and weariness when I discover what I can’t. But never once throughout this process has it occurred to me to give up breastfeeding. I love breastfeeding, the bond it creates between me and my baby. And, I know that Cedar is getting so many essential nutrients and antibodies through my breastmilk that I could never fully replicate with even the best combination of formula and solid foods. So I celebrate the fact that amidst these trials, my milk supply has stayed healthy and strong, and so has Cedar’s immune system. It’s kind of amazing that neither he nor I have barely had one cold during this entire first year of his life. I can’t say for sure that it’s from the breastmilk (or fish oil, prenatals, probiotics and healthy-ass diet), but it doesn’t hurt anyone for me to take some credit here. No one else has been tracking our progress as closely as I have, so I might as well bask in this moment of satisfaction. 

The Elimination Diet Saga

Not so sure about beets.

It is taking me a really long time to finish this post. I wrote the first draft in October, and every time I sit down to edit and hopefully be done with it, I find I have more to add. On the whole, I feel ready to put this whole elimination diet to rest—to report my findings, proclaim my success, reflect on what I’ve learned, and move on to other subjects. But what I’m realizing (in part due to my inability to finish this post) is that this process of keeping a careful record of what I eat (or now that we’ve started solids, of what I feed Cedar too), and then tracking his reactions, will continue for many months still, if not years.


Of course, it won’t ever be as challenging as when the list of things I wasn’t eating exceeded the thing I did eat. And it won’t ever be as challenging as when I didn’t know what was causing Cedar’s gas pains that led him to writhe in pain, nor what was causing his face to be covered in a red, puffy rash which caused him to scratch it into infected, yellowing sores. No, those hardest days are far behind us already. In comparison, the challenges we now face are easy.  



But let me back up and recount this journey, for it has been no small feat. For five months and counting, I have been on an elimination diet. I started the diet back in August when Cedar was about four months old and had been suffering for a couple months through bad gassy spells. Some days, his gas would come and go throughout the day, causing discomfort, but nothing that couldn’t be appeased with a little nursing, bouncing and distraction. Other days, however, his gas would wake him from his sleep with an anguished howl, and a particularly bad spell might last for over an hour, during which I would bounce, massage, nurse, and shift him from position to position, trying to bring some relief.



In addition to the gas, Cedar had a rash on his cheeks ever since he was about a month old. My midwife had suggested it might be from dairy, and sure enough  once I eliminated dairy, it went away. (Later it would come back, though nowhere near as bad, and I’m no longer sure this subsequent rash is now food-related). Cedar’s gas and rash symptoms peaked at around four months. On days when I was especially exhausted, his discomfort could be enough to tip me over the edge into tears myself. I tried gripe water and Hyland colic tablets, I talked to his doctor, I made an effort to burp him more often (wondering if perhaps the gas was from air bubbles created when feeding), I did research online, but nothing was of much help. I tried to trace his gas to foods I was eating, and started avoiding things like cabbage and beans -- but still, his gas persisted.



Finally, I decided to visit a naturopath. I suspected that she would probably have me go on an elimination diet, and though I’d dreaded going to this extreme, I was convinced by now that more action was needed. I was tired of the guesswork. The ND gave me a long list of foods I shouldn’t eat, and briefly explained how I could reintroduce them one by one, after Cedar’s gas disappeared. How long would I have to be on this diet? She couldn’t say exactly. It could be months.



And so I cut out all dairy, soy, gluten, eggs, corn, tree nuts, peanuts, shellfish, beans, garlic, onions, tomatoes, citrus, peppers, spicy foods, coffee, and Brassica vegetables (broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, kale, brussel sprouts, radishes, turnips, bok choy, etc.) from my diet. After doing more research, I also began avoiding fish, pork, processed meats, peas, berries, mustard, and cinnamon, which had also appeared in some sources as potential allergens. I was already cutting out so much that I didn’t want to take any chances.



Within a few weeks, Cedar’s gas pains went away. He still had a gassy moment or two, but none of the whimpering in his sleep, none of the prolonged cries that required constant bouncing and soothing to abate. For this, the diet was already worth it; for this I could already proclaim it a success. But we were only just getting started. I would still need to introduce each item, one by one, then wait for a reaction which could come anywhere from 4 hours to 3 days later. The naturopath explained how sometimes a little of something might be okay, but a little of this, plus a little of this, and a little of this, all together could create a reaction. So if you didn’t test everything one by one, and in a significant enough quantity, you could never be sure what caused each reaction. Also, I quickly learned that many reactions could last for several days, which meant that it might take a full week just to test one item on the list. And even then, if a test result wasn’t entirely clear, I would need to retest it. This is why elimination diets are a huge commitment and can take forever, but they also can provide the clearest and most accurate results, as opposed to blood tests which often show false positives.



Thankfully, summer was an ideal time to embark on such a diet. Despite having so many foods off limits, I could still eat plenty of fresh fruits (think nectarines, apples, apricots, cherries…) and vegetables (chard, spinach, lettuce, cucumbers, beets, and carrots were my mainstays), along with chicken, beef, quinoa, rice, and potatoes. I ate a ton of avocados, the only creamy thing I could spread on a sandwich, which I’d make with millet bread from the PCC, the best gluten-free option I found. Frequent treats included bags of salt and vinegar potato chips (seeing that every other flavor but plain had onion or garlic powder in it), coconut ice cream, Larabars (once I was eating nuts), and Pamela’s gluten-free, vegan ginger-almond cookies. Oh yeah, and wine. I never eliminated wine, grateful it wasn’t on my list. And I never could bring myself to cut out caffeine either, but I did go down to just one cup of tea a day for the first while, and coffee was then one of the first things I tested. Thankfully, it proved to be okay. There’s nothing worse than being sleep-deprived and cut off from caffeine.



As long as I planned my meals ahead of time and only ate at home, this diet wasn’t that hard to follow and could still be pretty delicious. Most things still taste pretty good marinated with olive oil, salt, balsamic, and maybe a little sugar or wine.  But good luck finding anything in a restaurant or deli that doesn’t have garlic, onions, soy oil, butter, or cheese in it. Not even the PCC makes dishes without garlic. I must say, however, that without my husband’s help dreaming up new dishes that I could eat, it would have been much harder. For the most part, he’s eaten what I’ve eaten for dinner, and seldom tempts me to stray by bringing ‘forbidden foods’ into the house.



That said, after just two weeks on the diet, I couldn’t wait to start reintroducing foods. Salmon and almonds were amongst the first foods I tested, and to my relief, Cedar did not seem to have a reaction to them. Hurrah! I could start eating almond butter on my millet bread for breakfast, and smoked salmon (caught and smoked by my husband, no less) in my salad for lunch. These were nice easy options for a quick protein fix, as opposed to always having to fry up a piece of raw meat. Sure I like meat, but I was not used to eating so much of it, at every meal, without any other source of protein for variation.



I mapped out a rough plan of what order to test things in, but often I ended up spontaneously changing my mind on what to try next, based on what we had (or didn’t have) around and how hungry I was. Mostly, I wanted to start with the foods that I least expected Cedar to have a reaction to so I could expand my diet as quickly as possible, and then work towards the items that were the most common allergy culprits: namely soy, gluten, corn, peanuts, shellfish and eggs. (I wasn’t even going to bother testing dairy.) I kept a careful record of everything I ate each day and Cedar’s sleep patterns to see how much of his frequent waking was linked to gas.  I wanted to be able to catch any subtle reactions, in addition to the obvious ones.



Hoping to reintroduce another easy protein source, I tested eggs early on, despite it being a common allergen. Cedar seemed a little more gassy about three days later, but I wasn’t sure, so I decided to hold off on eating them still and retest them later. Next, I tried tomatoes, and Cedar had a definite reaction a day or so later. I hadn’t suspected tomatoes. (So maybe those times he’d reacted badly to spaghetti, it wasn’t the garlic or the wheat, but the tomatoes that were affecting him! These were the kinds of small revelations I was having.)  Next, came citrus. I ate two oranges, and Cedar seemed a little gassier than usual a couple days later, but I wasn’t positive. My conclusion? I could have a little lemon or lime in my food, but I should probably stay away from guzzling glasses of orange juice for now. Easy enough.



Next, came soy. I drank four cups of soy milk over breakfast and lunch. Four hours later: major gas. The next day: restlessness and difficulty napping. And the next day: still gassy and restless. Definitely a reaction. I also hadn’t expected soy.



As much as I was hoping Cedar wouldn’t react to most things, it was also a relief when he would show a reaction because this meant that there was a point to me going to all this effort. It would have been so frustrating to go through months of self-sacrifice only to emerge with inconclusive results.



By now we were already about two months into this whole endeavor—three weeks where I’d eliminated everything, and five weeks of reintroducing foods. Peanuts came next. Cedar was definitely really gassy for the next few days. The problem was, however, that the same night I tested peanuts, my husband had (without thinking) put a dash of garlic and hot pepper-infused vinegar in our rice pasta dish. So the peanut test was wasted, which might not seem like a big deal except that it represented one more week I would have to be on this diet-- and at this point, I was increasingly anxious to be done with it.



Making mistakes like this was so frustrating, but so easy the minute I let my guard down and forgot to read a label. So much is hidden in so much. Like dairy in salami, or soy oil in granola, breads, tortillas, crackers, and mayonnaise. Soy is in everything, and most of it is genetically modified which is probably what has made it such an allergen for people. One night I was so excited that my husband was making a gluten-free crust and gravy for a chicken pot pie, and that we were actually eating something different for dinner that I forgot all about the fact that soy oil is what is in Crisco. Fuck. Soy again. Nights of a sleepless baby again. We already knew soy was bad for Cedar, and this now meant days of gassiness and another week added on to the diet.



Surprisingly, gluten proved to be just fine. I’d held off on testing gluten for months, assuming the worst. What a relief! Beer! Toast! How nice to know that my diet would improve again, even if I still cannot have anything vaguely creamy for some time.



By now, I’d started to get impatient and cut a few corners, for example eating some pecans, walnuts, ginger, cinnamon and berries without formally testing them, to no obvious adverse affect. Garbanzos were also okay (yay, more protein!), as was corn, kale, red peppers, mustard, and onions—the latter two of which have been especially exciting in the flavor department. I never thought I’d be so excited about mustard.



I’m still not sure about eggs. I’ve since read that eggs are one of those allergens that cause rashes more than they do gas, and since Cedar’s rash never completely went away, it is hard to tell for sure if he had a reaction the last time I tried them. I don’t really want to eat a ton at once and risk a bad outbreak, plus not a day goes by when I’m still not fantasizing about the next new food I’ll try, so it’s easier for me to just avoid eggs for now, indulging on occasion. (Plus, they make me gassy too.) And sadly, garlic also tested not okay, prompting major gas spells the two or three times I had it. There is so much I want to eat that has garlic in it.



I’m still gauging if I can get away with eating small amounts of things here and there (not to mention whether organic vs. non-organic, or GMO or non-GMO versions will make a difference to Cedar’s system), but all of this takes time—the requisite three days to wait after testing something if I want to do it right. In the meantime, we’ve also started introducing Cedar to solids, which means we have to wait three days after giving him something new too. (This is recommended practice for all babies, but especially so if your baby has already proven to be sensitive.) So far, we’ve given him yams, pumpkin, avocado, banana, peas, quinoa, apple, beets, and oatmeal. And so far, no obvious reactions, though I have a few suspicions. Since he eats so little of each thing at this point, however, it’s hard to say for sure. Time will tell.



For now, Cedar and I take turns trying new foods—this week, mama tests something, next week, Cedar. If there are no gassy reactions, then we can try two new foods a week, if there is a reaction, then maybe one.  It’s not that I expect him to be allergic to most things, especially the vegetables and fruits we’re starting him on, but when you’ve committed five months and counting to this process, it just doesn’t make sense to start getting sloppy now. It’s worth it to still proceed cautiously, one food at a time, because in the long run, that is the quickest way that we are both going to expand our palettes.



That brings us up to present. I still need to retest peanuts, and try shellfish, both of which I’ve avoided (call it intuition-- or fear). And then that pretty much just leaves all the individual gassy vegetables, beans, plus combinations or varying amounts of this and that. Sometimes I end up testing things on a whim, because I am hungry, get a craving, or there is no other immediate tasty option. For instance, when I decided to “test” a Dick’s burger and fries, or indulge in dark chocolate, which is really hard to find without soy lecithin in it, an “emulsifier”, whatever that is. And of course, by now, Cedar may very well have started to outgrow some of his sensitivities, which means that I could start retesting things if I wanted to. For instance, I tried butter the other week—apple pie for Christmas. In the past, the dairy rash reaction tended to come on a day or two afterward, and sometimes wasn’t so obvious until I’d had dairy a few times. I’m pretty sure his rash got worse after the butter, so I’ve deemed it still off limits, but I’m still planning to test goat cheese soon which might be less offensive than cow products. Sigh. Am I tiring you out yet with these details?  



At times I’ve felt like some people think I’m being overly cautious in my approach, but if they’d witnessed how uncomfortable Cedar once was and knew how much harder it makes our life when he doesn’t sleep well because of gas, then maybe they’d understand. It’s hard for me to explain the sinking feeling of dread that overcomes me when I hear Cedar begin to whimper in his sleep. I usually go into the bedroom to stand nearby so that the moment he wakes up crying, which I know from experience will come soon, I can be there to soothe and nurse him back to sleep.



In many ways, I feel like I’ve been flying solo on this whole endeavor, with the exception of the support of my husband. I don’t have a doctor who has guided me through the process, since my pediatrician knows little about food allergies, and the naturopath I first visited left me with some doubts as well as to her knowledge of infants and transference through breast milk. I have also not had the time to do the additional research that I would if I could. For instance, I’ve wanted to visit another ND for months, one who knows more about babies and who takes my insurance, but it seems like I blink, and before I know it, another month has gone by. At times, I’ve had to just let my intuition guide me, a resource I don’t want to underestimate. But I do suspect that if I’d had a skilled expert in children and food allergies guiding me through this from the beginning, I might have proceeded more efficiently and saved myself some of this trial, error, and guesswork. An expert might have been able to help me analyze the patterns of Cedar’s reactions, or cue me in from the beginning which sensitivities were likely to appear as a rash versus gas, or both. An expert might also help me figure out where I have been overly cautious with my diet, and where I might still not be cautious enough.



In the end, I’ve pieced together what knowledge I can in what time I’ve had, made a plan, and stuck with it. I’ve seen positive, conclusive results, at the same time that I still have lots of questions and unknowns. I’ve been taking fish oil for the last couple months, recommended by many to help eczema, and I think it’s made a huge difference for Cedar. I’ve also been using a borage butter baby eczema cream, which may or may not be helping too. Several have mentioned that I should also take probiotics or give them to Cedar directly, but I haven’t had the time yet to research what dosage. You’d think I’d jump on any potential solution immediately, but as a full-time mother there are so many things I mean to get around to researching or doing, and inevitably, some things—both potentially important or inconsequential—get put off or forgotten.



For now, Cedar’s gas continues to come and go as I continue to try new foods, mess up and eat things by mistake, or give in to occasional whims that I suspect won’t be worth it but oh well. His rash comes and goes too, perhaps influenced by the air and the environment. I visited a pediatric dermatologist months ago who prescribed hydrocortisone, which I continue to apply sparingly as needed for now since it keeps his rash under control. I’d rather not, since it can cause thinning of the skin if used too much, but the doctor assured me a little bit was okay, so I’ve resigned myself to this “treat the symptom, not the cause” solution. Everyone assures me that Cedar should eventually outgrow his sensitivities or allergies by the time he’s a year old, or two or three. And thankfully, the worst of his symptoms are over.



So, am I still on an elimination diet? Depends how you look at it. My diet has expanded so much since I first started this whole process that it doesn’t really seem like I’m on the same diet anymore when I’m just cooking for myself. And yet, I am still constantly obsessing about food—specifically, what food I’ll test next and how exactly I will eat it. When I do finally get around to eating something new, I take that first bite with a giddy sense of excitement and with an underlying current of dread, knowing that whatever fleeting pleasure these once forbidden flavors give me might not be worth the next day’s reaction. And, of course, put me out in the world and I still can’t eat hardly a thing at any restaurant and I still have to give my hosts a long list of things I can’t eat. I hate being the one with a million special requests, as I’ve never been a picky eater or had any food sensitivities of my own, but most people graciously accommodate, going so far as to omit the precious garlic from their main course.



Still, I remember in the past being a wee bit skeptical of people who had a lot of sensitivities, asking are you sure you can’t have just a little garlic in your dish? (Unspoken implication: are you sure you aren’t being just a little paranoid/overly cautious/or particular? I mean, what’s a little gas?). Even the pediatric dermatologist I visited had this attitude, calling me a “saint” and joking, “I’d just let him fart.” I had to explain that it wasn’t just “a few farts” and nor did he have some mysterious condition called colic that would just “go away with time.” My son’s discomfort was clearly caused by what I put into my body. His rash, on the other hand, I couldn’t say for sure, but being a dermatologist you’d think she would have been more sensitive to the potential food/rash connection.



Yes, this whole process has been incredibly long and tiresome. But nothing compares to how hard it was to not know what was causing or how to help my son’s pain. And although I dearly miss garlic, cheese, and the ability to order take-out or to eat my mom’s home cooking, I am also thankful for the way this diet has forced me to eat more healthily and to notice and appreciate all that I can and do eat every day.

Feeding Cedar

Cedar hasn’t been taking the bottle lately. This is troubling if I ever want to get away for more than a few hours at a time. He took it easily at first when he was around six weeks old and he quickly gulped down five ounces of my breast milk. But then we must have waited too long between tries, and the next time my husband offered it to him, he refused. Ever since then, it’s been a struggle. He might be coaxed to take a couple ounces over a couple hours, but mostly he’ll just play with the nipple, then spit it out—and that’s if he’s in a good mood. If he’s tired or hungry, he’ll howl and scream and finally, my mom or Matthew will call me to come home, whereupon I’ll rush to offer him my breast, poor baby, so hungry and upset he won’t even take it at first.

And then, he’s fine. It hasn’t been that long, so he’s not starving, and he’s not a baby to stay upset once his needs have been met. So he’ll go from crying and screaming to smiling and laughing within minutes.

I know it’s hard for my husband when Cedar won’t take the bottle from him, and when he sees how easy it is for me to placate him by offering him my breast. We don’t want him to learn that if he refuses the bottle, he’ll eventually (and in not too long) get the breast, so it’s best that I stay away during our attempts now, because it’s too hard for me to sit there and listen to him wail when we both know that I have what he wants. By that same token, I am not the ideal candidate to offer Cedar the bottle, because I would never last the hours it might take before he finally breaks down and takes it; I don’t know if I could even last for twenty minutes. It’s too hard when I’ve spent the first three months of my life doing everything in my ability to keep him from crying, to suddenly play tough love. Enforcing discipline has always been my weakness.

I don’t blame my baby for preferring and loving my breast. He came out of the womb with a natural instinct to root and suck, it was the very first thing that was offered to him after he was born, and ever since, he’s spent a great amount of each day at its side. Even though I’d taken a class in breastfeeding, I still was not prepared for how glued I’d be to that chair and boppy, how huge and full my breasts would become with milk, and how much a newborn baby needs to nurse. Cedar would often nurse for over an hour, and when he’d finish he’d be back on it within another hour or sooner. At night, I’d lie on my side and nurse Cedar in bed, but his latch was not always great, sometimes I’d finally get up and go sit in the living room after half an hour of him slipping and sliding off my breast, with me propped on my side, squeezing my breast with my hand to make a “nipple sandwich,” teasing his mouth open wide, and guiding his face in the right direction, all while trying to aim a flashlight at his mouth to aid the process, yet not shine it in his face so he’d wake up too much.

In the beginning, you had to feed your baby every two or three hours to ensure that they were gaining enough weight. Now, most nights I put him down around eight p.m., and he doesn’t wake until three a.m. for a quick snack in the dark. We no longer need the aid of a flashlight. Instead, all I do is wave my nipple in the area around his mouth and he will open wide and clamp on like a champ. Then he’ll wake again around seven for a longer feeding. During the day, though, Cedar still feeds every two hours, and sometimes more. I think I have an oversupply of milk, so he fills up fast on the “foremilk” which is less nutritious and sustaining, and doesn’t get as much of the “hindmilk” which would keep him going longer. But I also suspect that this boy just loves to nurse. It’s comforting to him, it’s how he feels safe and secure, and it’s what my breasts were made for. And after surviving the first month when it seemed I was nursing more often than I wasn’t, when his latch would sometimes hurt, I was getting clogged ducts, and when I was, frankly, sick of sitting in that chair, unable to do much else but surf Facebook—after surviving that first stage where nursing was more of a duty than a pleasure, I can now say that I enjoy nursing, that I love this special bond that I have with my baby, and that I already know it will be hard for me, and for him, the day we need to start giving this up.

What do I love about nursing? I love the fact that every nutrient Cedar needs to grow healthy and strong is stored inside my body; I love this symbiotic relationship, I love that we can go anywhere and I have what I need to provide for him. I love how easy it’s now become to rest his head in the crook of my arm, pull out my breast and nurse him, how we are no longer dependent on special nursing props, how his latch is now perfect no matter what, how we are old pros at this routine. And I love it when he stares in my eyes as he sucks, and sometimes pauses to break into a smile. I love the soft tickle of his mouth on my nipple. And how his mouth still moves in rhythmic sucking motions as he sleeps.

I also love how no one else but me can fill this role for him. I admit I felt a slight tinge of sadness the first time he took the bottle so quickly, sad to know that I could be so easily replaced. But mostly I was grateful, knowing that my future sanity would rest on his ability to take a bottle. Matthew was happy too, of course, that he could finally take part in this feeding routine, and be able to offer his son such an essential part of his life. I want Cedar to also associate my husband with nurturing and an ability to be fed. And I certainly don’t want it to be a struggle each time, and for Matthew to feel demoralized and rejected. So we need to keep working on the bottle, giving it to Cedar more frequently and deliberately, choosing a time of day when he is least tired and thus likely to refuse. Yet still I admit I am happy that Cedar will always prefer the breast, and that he will always associate mama with her unsurpassed ability to soothe and provide.

This might sound naïve, but I didn’t realize what a huge part of our life nursing would become. Matthew agrees, saying how breastfeeding is about so much more than just food, but more like medicine, for Cedar-- and for me. “You should write about how the umbilical cord never goes away,” he said when I told him I was writing this post. “Yes, it’s true. The phantom umbilical cord,” I nodded.

Nursing is the most intimate way of expressing the bond that exists between Cedar and I. At times, it can still feel like a tiring duty, yet now that we’re out of the exhausting, all night feedings, sore nipples, raw and ravaged stage, breastfeeding has become so much more of a welcome pleasure. A gentle, comforting ritual where the two bodies of mother and child, can, once again, join together as one.