First Bites

For nearly two weeks now, Drake has been enjoying the new privilege of (semi)solid food. My midwife had told me that I would know when he was ready - that he would stare at my food and drool and try to grab for it. Somewhere around six months, maybe later, she said. Well, for those of you who know my son, you know how quickly he is powering through the growth stages. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise when he started showing the signs of being ready for solid food somewhere around three and a half months old. I refused, however, to admit that it was really happening. Heck to the no, my son. It became impossible to ignore about a month ago, however. He followed my fork or my coffee mug back and forth from my mouth with his eyes, and often with his hands too. He whined and stretched for it. And still I persisted. No. Not until six months. Maybe longer. As long as breast milk is enough for him - as long as he's thriving - no. I'm not moving him to solid food. I just wasn't ready.
But I finally had to give in about ten days ago when one of my criteria was unquestionably being met. He just wasn't satisfied with nursing alone. For several days in a row he was sucking me dry, hurting me and frustrating him. I put on a brave face and busted out the Baby Bullet (thank you, Jaime!).
We started with an apple puree and some rice cereal. He definitely had some sensory shock the first day - wide eyed and apprehensive as he pushed most of it back out with his tongue. The second day he was comfortable and swallowing easily. The third day he was lunging forward and chomping at the spoon just milliseconds after I'd put the last bite in. He was literally grabbing my hand to pull it closer, faster.
So that's it. There's no going back. No more baby who relies solely on me for his nourishment and health. Now someone else could do the job. Stress.

Speaking of which, plenty of people are quickly volunteering for the task and already I can see how my son will be spoiled by the many people who adore him. Dad offered him some ice cream; his Best Friend gave him whipped cream. He was a happy boy. Gassy later, but happy.