Instead Eloise started waking up during the night. A LOT. And in my sleep deprived state I quickly buckled under various friends and family members suggestions that perhaps giving her solid foods would help her sleep better. After two weeks of severely disrupted sleep I think I would have taken their advice had they told me that teaching my baby how to flap her arms and fly would make her sleep better.
I waited until the Frenchman joined us in France, discussed it with him, and we decided to start feeding her. I told my mother and sister to come over to the Frenchman's parents house so we could all watch Eloise take her first few bites of food. My mother laughed sarcastically " Yeah, that'll work". Turns out I was extremely difficult when it came to accepting solids for the first time and my mother was expecting a similar battle.
Instead Eloise sat there with all of us staring at her as I spoon fed her carrot with a look on her face like, what? Eating from a spoon is a big deal? I got this down you guys.
And to be honest with you, although a big part of me was really proud of my little girl. Proud that she could accept something so novel in her stride. I was also a little sad. Sad that it was so easy for her to accept nutrients from a source other than me.
There are many things I love about my daughter. One of my favorites is her breath. I cuddle her face next to mine, kissing those chubby cheeks and drink in the scent coming from her parted lips. A mixture of milk and innocence.
I want Eloise to be an adventurous eater. I enjoy feeding her and cooking for her. But my milk on her breath will soon be replaced with the smell of swede and papaya. And I guess I'm a little sad to see that trace of me go.