It seems to be a universal truth that former NICU parents are obsessed with food; specifically, obsessed with getting our kids to eat. As. Much. As. Possible. More than two years after we escaped from the NICU, I am consumed, so to speak, with monitoring how much my kids eat and finding ways to convince them to eat more, more, more.
In the NICU, a preemie has to do three things in order to be discharged: breathe without assistance, maintain her own body temperature, and eat sufficient quantities of food. For my girls, and I think for a lot of NICU babies, that last one is the real trick. Not long after they were born, the girls broke free from their baby incubators and moved into open-air cribs, where they stayed at a cozy 98.6 all on their own. A few weeks later, the final breathing apparatus were disconnected and the girls sucked in room air with no assistance.
But eating. Ah, eating. That took weeks. Long, long weeks. Hospital staff would say, "As soon as they can consistently eat 55 ccs every three hours, they can go home!" Do you know how much 55 ccs is? It's less than two ounces. It's a tiny, tiny amount. And yet it was a nearly insurmountable obstacle. Day after day, they'd fail to meet their goal. Every feeding session, we'd try every feeding trick we learned during our NICU tenure (and there were many) in a desperate attempt to get them to empty out those tiny bottles. This was the point in our NICU stay when I became totally psychotic and considered a) committing violence against the doctors and nurses and b) kidnapping the girls.
But we made it through, somehow, and even when we were home, we kept meticulous records of how much the girls ate round the clock, down to the nearest milliliter. We were totally obsessive, thanks to our NICU training. It took us more than a year to give up on logging every meal. The girls' pediatrician did his best to help us let go of the food obsession. "They'll eat what they need to eat," he insisted, and told us not to worry about it. So we tried not to worry about it.
But even now, I hover over their plates, cataloging each bite and sip, celebrating every empty plate, wringing my hands over each meal left untouched. I've become obsessed with finding new ways to get the girls involved with the cooking process so they'll feel more invested in their food, and thus maybe they'll be more excited about eating it. One of their favorite activities these days is pulling chairs up to the kitchen counter so they can help me chop vegetables, stir batters, and assemble sandwiches. Meal prep takes about three times longer than it used to, but I don't mind.
The thing is, my obsession is baseless. These girls eat plenty. Their weight is totally normal for their age. They're perfectly healthy. If I were successful in shoving as much down their throats as I'd like, they'd be obese. Most adults probably shouldn't eat as much as I try to feed them. I take some comfort in knowing that this food frenzy is my problem, not theirs. It helps me get over it and move on when the girls reject the food I was sure they'd devour.
Still, even if I don't need to worry about the twins, I have my own neuroses to combat. So if you have any recipes guaranteed to tempt toddlers, send them my way. My nerves will thank you.
3 comments:
I chuckled as I read this, because you were the pickiest eater in the world.
Family history, and my back side, say I rarely met a food I didn't like, so a picky eater mystified me.
Dan was the only child whose infant eating habbits I worried about, but as soon as we switched to formula, I stopped worrying.
When you were here, I thought the girls were extremely good eaters. They try new things and rarely turn up their noses up at anything.
Their tiny bodies and growth spurts, and sometimes just the way they feel, will determine how much they eat, and as you said, they're growing normally and, all except for that mis-hap in the MRI, their hemoglobin is fine.
Some moms just don't think they're doing their job unless they're worried all the time.
Sorry Kelly, I don't have any magic recipes. I've resigned myself to the fact that some days they eat, and some days they don't. ;)
I'm in the same boat as Nan.
My kids weren't preemies, but they are SO picky. They pick some of that up from their dad, who will eat whatever I make, but has been somewhat vocal about what he doesn't like even if it is in the meal he's got in front of him.
I get the boys involved with the cooking process, hoping it will help. And they are often excited about the meals we prepare, because I'm forever making a big deal about the help they provide and how they are making our meal. Lots of rah rah! Then we sit down to eat and it's a struggle. Or they eat barely enough to sustain a bird. Or they're suddenly "not hungry."
I used to battle it. There are days I'm still compelled to, but I've had to just let it go. They're not starving, they know that what is prepared is the meal they're getting. Until then, I hope for the day they'll eat me out of house and home!
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