The Flavor of Love is Bland

I am typing this post with one hand because the other one is holding a boob to my newborn’s mouth. And, yes, it’s my boob, but these days I wouldn’t mind borrowing somone else’s lactating breast to give me a hand, and this has more to do with cheese, yes, cheese, than feeling burdened by being the sole food source for another human.

Did I really just use the words “lactating breast” and “cheese” in the same sentence? Don’t worry, I’m not about to suggest that the dairy industry stop discriminating against mothers and begin making cheese from breast milk. I am, however, going to express my horror over being told that I need to avoid dairy products for the sake of my baby.

You see, my darling daughter was spending most of her evenings frantically crying. I explained this to the pediatrician, who then asked me to describe the appearance of her poop. Never before have I used more time or adjectives to describe another person’s poo. After concluding my vivid description with the words “as if her diaper were a handkerchief,” the doctor concluded that I must be “quite the dairy queen,” meaning, I eat large quantities of milk, cheese, yogurt and ice cream. Of course I do. I’m from Wisconsin, if you’re not drinking beer, eating a brat or watching the Packers, you’re likely enjoying a vat of milk-based products.

“You need to take a break from dairy, as well as chocolate, caffeine, garlic, onions and spices,” he said. “Something you’re eating is upsetting your daughter’s stomach, via your breast milk, and those are the top candidates.” To really drive the point home, he wrapped up the good news with a cheerful, “make sure your food doesn’t have much flavor.” Awesome! Because at a time when my body is burning more calories than it ever has and my appetite rivals that of two pregnant women, I was hoping to eliminate all things delicious, like taste, from my diet.

I had just ended 9 months that were filled with “avoid this” and “don’t do that,” and now I was looking at a whole new list of things to stay away from. Throw in the fact that I adore food and just got a brand new kitchen to cook in, and you’ll begin to understand how disappointed I was when I left the pediatrician’s office.

But, I was also desperate for a night where I could get into bed before 4 a.m. and was willing to try anything to stop the pain-filled cries of my baby. So, I filled my fridge with soy milk and lactose-free ice cream and buried the chocolate, heads of garlic and fresh onions in the back our pantry.

For this little girl…

…I would sacrifice the sharp flavor of aged cheddar and the creamy decadence of goat cheese any day. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

And I’m happy to say that after one week on the “No Fun, No Flavor” diet, Adeline’s frantic crying at night has stopped and her diapers are much less terrifying. In another two weeks, I’ll be able to slowly reintroduce all foods back into my diet to see if her digestive system has developed a tolerance for them.

In the meantime, I will continue to stare longingly at custard stands and wipe away the drool when I smell sauteed onions and garlic.

• ← A Perfectly Miserable Afternoon
• Life’s Difficult Decisions →