Honest Thoughts on Starting Solids (From a Mum Two Weeks In)
Right, let me set the scene. It's dinner time, my baby Jude is gnawing on a carrot stick like it personally wronged him, there's purée in places purée should never reach, and I'm perched on the edge of my seat like a lifeguard who's had four coffees.
Welcome to starting solids.
Two weeks in and I have THOUGHTS.
So grab a cuppa (or a cold one, no judgement) and let me tell you how it's actually going, the good, the gross, and the "why is nobody talking about the poo."
First of all, there is no perfect plan.
We're doing a bit of everything and that is totally OK. It's been around two weeks since we started introducing solids, focussing on a combination of baby led weaning and puree's, and here's my first honest confession: I f*cking love a pouch.
I honestly gas-lit myself into believing I was going to be a "make everything from scratch mama", and I am, for the most part. But I'm also solo parenting through the week while building a business, with a teething baby on my hip, and sometimes a store-bought pouch is not a failure, it's a lifeline.
I'm working hard not to feel guilty about that, so if you're reaching for a pouch too, this is your permission slip. Fed is fed. Your baby doesn't love you less because dinner came out of a packet.
The bigger foods surprised me most.
Something I didn't see coming was how comfortable I've become handing Jude proper, grown-up food. Steak. Lamb. Steamed carrot sticks the size of my finger. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't right there on standby the entire time, watching like a hawk that he doesn't choke. Edge of my seat, ready to pounce, every single mouthful. Comfortable and terrified, all at once. Turns out that's just starting solids in a nutshell.
Which leads me to my next point: Gagging vs choking. Because WTF.
Can we talk about the gag reflex? Because learning the difference between gagging and choking has been a whole emotional process. The defensive mama bear in me wants to leap up and pound him on the back the second he gags. Every instinct screams DO SOMETHING. But instead, I sit on my hands, smile, and tell him what a brilliant job he's doing, even while I'm absolutely shitting myself on the inside.
Gagging is loud and dramatic and completely normal, it's his little body learning to move food safely. Choking is silent and still, and that's the one you act on. Knowing that intellectually and feeling it in the moment are two very different things. Honestly? I'm faking it til I make it, and I think that's most of parenting.
(A quick, necessary note: I'm a mum sharing my own experience, not a health professional. If you're starting solids, please do a proper infant first aid course and get feeding guidance from a trusted health provider. Choking is serious and worth learning about properly. We also have the LifeVac pump at home for emergencies.)
The expectations I have on myself and our home.
Because I tend to put a heap of unnecessary pressure on these shoulders of mine. And that can look like spiralling because my fridge or pantry is a mess, judging myself because I didn’t lose more weight before getting pregnant, having a pinterest-worthy home before showing up on social media, not needing to show up 110% every second of the day like the toxic personal development industry has tried to manipulate us to believe, and just generally trying to be the Type A Capricorn Mama I always thought I was going to be - because it is just not sustainable. So I’m consciously lowering the bar, in healthy, grounded and future focussed ways. Because I don’t want to be the Mum who’s losing her sh*t over a messy kitchen and instead enjoy cooking with her little ones and cleaning it up later.
Family dinners. My dream come true.
One thing I really value is family dinners, so I've made sure Jude and I eat together even when my husband is away for the week. When Dad's home, all three of us sit down together. This is something I'm prioritising, and giving Jude as much of what we eat as possible, because I want that to be his normal. Not a separate "baby meal" eaten alone in a highchair while I hover, a proper shared table, the whole family mucking in together. I know that’s not everyone’s reality, but this is the vision I dreamed of throughout those years of infertility, it’s something that kept me going when it got really hard, and Brandon and I would talk about over dinner, imagining our family being complete.
The honest pros and cons list, unfiltered:
It's scary. It genuinely feels dangerous, and my nervous system knows it.
It's disgusting. The mess is a lot, and his poos have suddenly developed a smell that could clear a room.
It's hard. It’s another job on an already long list.
But also:
It's so exciting. This is his next big chapter. He's learning to eat, growing as a little human, expressing genuine love and enthusiasm for food, interacting, figuring out how to feed himself. And it's so, so rewarding knowing I'm doing the best I can for him.
My favourite part? Hands down, my favourite thing is the noise. The enthusiastic, almost feral, joyful noise that comes out of this child for the entire duration of dinner. The mmmms. The yummms. The little groans of pure food-love. It is the most beautiful sound. You can hear exactly how much joy he's getting out of every bite, and honestly, I'm not remotely surprised, given how much of a pair of foodies his dad and I are - and the rest of our families for that matter!
If you're about to start solids
If you're standing at the edge of this whole thing, nervous, here's what I'd tell you:
You're allowed to be excited and terrified at the same time.
You're allowed to make everything from scratch and use a pouch.
You're allowed to sit on your hands through the gagging and fake the calm until it becomes real.
It's messy and stinky and a bit scary, and it's also one of the loveliest chapters yet.
Pull up a chair at the family table and dig in. You've got this.
Are you in the thick of starting solids too? Come tell me your best (or worst) mess story over on Instagram, I want to hear it all.
