Infant Reflux At Ten Months Old

I know lots of you have very kindly been following our baby Reflux story, so here is the latest in our saga:

The Lion is now ten months old. Even as a I write that I find it hard to actually believe. Where on earth has the time gone? Can my tiny baby really be almost one?

He is crawling at break-neck speed, cruising the furniture with ease, and treats the stairs like his own personal obstacle course. The Lion is quite simply the most determined child I have ever met. So if he sees a remote control or mobile phone, then nothing in his path is going to stop him. In fact, come to think of it, pretty much whatever he decides is going to happen usually does.

Is he spoilt?

Quite possibly. He has both of us and a doting nine year old sister chasing round after him and anticipating his every move. We all know he will be the last and that makes every moment all the more special. But we also know how much he has been through. And for me at least – even though I know it’s wrong – that makes it really hard to say no.

Of course it also doesn’t help that he has a smile that would melt even the hardest heart. And admittedly yes, he has a scream to go with it!

On the baby reflux front.

Two weeks ago we had an appointment with the consultant and the feeding clinic. We were sent home to review and report back. Number Two of course did his best perfect baby impression during the appointment, even eating a breadstick in its entirety- which he has never, I repeat never done done before or after. He is holding onto his growth chart position on the 25th centile which means from a medical point of view there is nothing to worry about.

Except I am worried.

I am a mum and worrying is my job. Therefore I don’t like how no-one seems to know what the issue is, I don’t like that they don’t have a plan and I don’t like that my baby doesn’t eat like other babies do.

True, over the last couple of weeks, he has started eating a little more. He seems to like fish and if I feed him like a bird with my fingers he’ll eat a little of it, he has also decided he’ll occasionally tolerate sausages and pasta. But apart from that he remains our shredder. He refuses anything from a spoon, and although he seems to enjoy chewing finger food, on the whole he isn’t prepared to swallow it.

I want to enjoy him.

I’d love to relax, to cherish the days, to truly enjoy the moments. I don’t want to worry about the next meal time and whether I will manage to convince him to eat. Or to spend hours scouring ingredients trying to figure out why. And I don’t want to listen to him crying in his sleep.
I want to play.

I want to build Lego towers for him to knock down, and delight in the fact that he has learnt to point. I’d love to take him out for lunch without checking ingredients like a hawk.

I want to just be his mum.

So that is what I am going to do. I am going to pack away the worry. And start focusing on the moments. I will enjoy feeding him like a bird. I’ll relish the times he swallows, and use the times he doesn’t to make him laugh and play new games. I will take him out and watch his eyes light up at new things. I’ll enjoy the interest he is now showing in his friends.
We have a lot to be thankful for and I intend to start remembering it.

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