So today Clarissa arrived and sprung something new: Mike is now ready to normalise his eating pattern. Normal, eating and Mike have never appeared in a sentence together and I’m pretty daunted by the latest task I must admit.
I always had in mind that even with Clarissa, Mike would be a, shall we say, more selective eater? Today’s discussions tell me the opposite and I’m so, so excited!
The whole ‘packing’ episode hit me at a point in time, that my mind was unpacking my life over the last 27 months. It hasn’t been ‘like magic’ in fact, it’s been pretty grim.
I’ll never forget 24 hours after leaving hospital, arriving back on the children’s ward for Mike to start on antiviral treatment. The painted Mickey Mouse on the walls, the big smiles from the nurses: my mind collapsed and in a second, had to pick itself up again. I remember at that moment, there was no room for self-pity or anger anymore, my new born was starting on chemotherapy like, toxic drugs and really there couldn’t have been much worse to throw at me.
So the chicken went down well initially and then all of a sudden, Mike stopped swallowing. He completely disengaged from me. No sound, no attempt at eye contact, no crying. He just stared and stared and stared in to space. I had to sit and wait initially in line with the technique, for as long as it took for the food to go down. Clarissa explained the correct term for this was ‘packing.’
Any mum of a child, born with a health condition, will tell you how strong her instinct is to protect, it helps her baby survive. As mum of a poorly baby, you are forever parenting in situations that are frightening and new to you, often this makes you unsure of how best to be ‘normal’ with your child. In all honesty, what’s normal about endless appointments, a host of professionals aware of every aspect of your life or having to put your child through all sorts of medical procedures and treatments?
So 27th May 2014, we introduced chicken, potato and carrots! Just ten grams mixed with butter and milk. His first taste of meat and vegetables, aged two and two months!
I knew from first weaning Mike that there was something different, at six months old he would hide his face, close his eyes and scream. Any food you got in to his mouth, he would hold at the front and spit out, he would wretch at smells and at one stage became so sensitive we couldn’t lie him down as the sensation of a cotton sheet, was too aggravating for him.
