strike
I haven't been online much in the past week or so because all my energies were focused on worrying about The Bun, who decided to go on a food strike. Thankfully, the worst of it is over now, and when I look back upon it I can see how crazily over-obsessed J and I were about the whole issue, but hey, it's understandable. Your kid decides to stop eating, and all your parental instincts just scream, NOOOOOO! MUST FEEEEED!, drowning out everything so that you simply cannot think of anything else.
It all started probably two Tuesdays ago, although there was no one incident that triggered the strike. The Bun began to balk at his homecooked meals, but ate snacks and treats (basically, the unhealthy, tasty stuff) happily. Then he even started to reject his snacks, which was when I began to get worried. The Bun has been a good eater ever since he was a baby and for him to turn down his favourite treats is a sign that something is really wrong. He would take one bite, chew momentarily, and spit it all back out. I thought he was teething his final four molars and cooked him soft rice porridge, but that didn't work either. He would complain that he couldn't chew the mushy rice grains.
At our worst point The Bun was crying at every meal, so fearful of even sitting at the dinner table that he would cry before even taking a bite. I think this was also partly my fault because I thought that he was throwing tantrums about having to eat food that he didn't like, and I didn't want to set up any precedents about mealtime behaviour. All this coincided of course with his latest 'the world is unfair' aka 'why do I have to listen to you?!' phase where he constantly challenges J and me on all our decisions, even ones that don't concern him like which parking lot we pick. If he doesn't win, then he 'feel[s] sad' (his words), whines, or has an outright meltdown. Fun times, worthy of another post.
Besides, when food wasn't an issue, The Bun seemed totally fine. Playing, walking, talking, singing as usual. The proverbial toddler who lived on air (and some milk). For an entire week his diet consisted of: whole milk (maybe 400ml in total), yogurt (fruity bits spit out), tomato juice (others, like apple, were rejected), mashed-up kiwi fruit, and mini M&Ms (part of our potty training). I also started giving him a nightly serving of chocolate Pediasure, just to top him up and to boost his intake, since he has never been a big milk drinker.
I just couldn't figure out what was wrong. It wasn't HFMD because he had no fever, no spots, and none of the other symptoms beyond loss of appetite. He sometimes said he had a sore throat, but kept on yelling and talking as if nothing hurt. Or else he would point to a tooth and say it hurt, but when I brushed his teeth as usual twice a day (and I brush quite firmly), he wouldn't flinch, and neither did he complain or refuse tooth-brushing. Besides, the fact that he ate M&Ms and kiwi made me suspect that the issue wasn't something to do with his teeth. And he wasn't afraid of food per se: he kept on pretend cooking and pretend eating, but he just wouldn't do the real thing.
We saw our usual paediatrician, then another a week later for a second opinion when things didn't improve. Both said the same thing: The Bun's teeth are fine, he is not teething because they have all grown in, his tonsils are clear, but perhaps his throat is/was sore and when he tried to eat previously it hurt so much that now he is afraid to eat again. They didn't seem too worried since The Bun was alert and active and obviously not in any danger of starvation. The second doctor also pointed out that The Bun's nose was blocked and that constant mouth breathing may have caused his throat to feel dry and constricted, which would have made a sore throat feel worse.
The new policy at home became like this: we would keep The Bun hydrated and continue offering him fluids, but during mealtimes, we wouldn't ask him to eat, even if he was seated at the same table. He is verbal enough to describe hunger (not that he ever asked for any food, liquid or solid, during the whole saga) and he is mobile enough to help himself to food if he wants it, so we wouldn't coax, force, or otherwise persuade him to eat. It was actually very sad for me to see him watch us eat with huge eyes filled with desire, but for quite a few days, he refused to even have food placed in front of him. Once or twice he couldn't resist and would grab a biscuit or a spoonful of what I was eating right out of my hand, but he would spit it out almost immediately, and we would both feel a bit upset.
It seemed like he had been traumatised by his sore throat (and yes, my stern attitude when I misread his cues as tantrums in the early days) to try eating. He only ate kiwi fruit because he told me that he could eat them even with a sore throat (they probably felt cold and sweet in his mouth). We had to take baby steps: I would ask him to lick the food, and encourage him when he swallowed crumbs. If he put something in his mouth and chewed, he would be praised, even if he spit the food out. It was like weaning a six-month-old baby.
The bright side in all of this was that I didn't have to decide what to cook for him, or account for his meals when we ate out. I could eat all the spicy stuff I wanted, and it wouldn't matter that there was nothing for The Bun to eat because he wouldn't touch anything anyway. Our family meals also went a lot quicker since I didn't have to help The Bun eat, or clean him up, or anything. It was like having a milk-only baby at the table, only this one could do a lot more than a baby.
In the end, what proved really helpful was when the second paediatrician prescribed a bottle of liquid multivitamins (the nurse: 'What? A child who won't take gummy vitamins?') for The Bun, along with some medication for his allergies and throat. The multivitamins are 'tropical berry' flavoured and taste foul (I tried a spoonful), but The Bun is enamoured with the colourful pictures of animals all over the bottle. He gladly takes it every morning and he claims his sore throat feels better because of it. I'm all for a placebo effect, as long as he is better!
That night, after The Bun's first dose of the 'animal medicine', J and I were at a Taiwanese eatery, sharing potstickers. The plate was in the middle of the table and The Bun was tempted enough to lick one, finally gathering up enough courage to bite small bits of the dough, and eventually the pork filling. He ended up eating half a potsticker and was praised enthusiastically for his efforts. That was the first hump he got over. The next morning, Friday, I bent one of my rules and offered him chocolate biscuits for breakfast. He ate those with no problem. We went out for lunch with my mother and I picked a Japanese place, hoping his favourite foods would tempt him to eat more. He ate two bits of a California roll, an ikura sushi, miso soup, and a lot of seaweed. Score! That night at dinner he shared some ramen with me, and I knew we were going to be fine.
I can describe the whole saga with some detachment now because the strike is over, but when we were in the depths of it, my heart felt so heavy that I would wake every morning, depressed. Even my own meals tasted like cardboard because I couldn't enjoy them. On a rational level I knew that things weren't so bad because The Bun was alert and active, but on an emotional level it was awful seeing my greedy boy shy away from food. J, who gives The Bun his nightly bath, even claimed that he seemed skinnier after a week. (For the record, I think The Bun only lost 200g, if anything at all. His weight is an even 13kg and we finally measured his height at the clinic - 95cm!) It's very hard for parents to see their kid stop eating, especially if there are no other outward signs that indicate illness.
This episode has showed me that yes, children can live on love and fresh air. And knowing that has taught me to ease off on the whole control thing, especially as far as food is concerned. Because The Bun had always been a good eater, I had wrongly assumed that his refusal was a behavioural problem, not a physical one. Although he has started eating again, The Bun is still not back to the way he used to be, and so we have some work ahead of us to boost confidence and trust and hopefully, his appetite.
It all started probably two Tuesdays ago, although there was no one incident that triggered the strike. The Bun began to balk at his homecooked meals, but ate snacks and treats (basically, the unhealthy, tasty stuff) happily. Then he even started to reject his snacks, which was when I began to get worried. The Bun has been a good eater ever since he was a baby and for him to turn down his favourite treats is a sign that something is really wrong. He would take one bite, chew momentarily, and spit it all back out. I thought he was teething his final four molars and cooked him soft rice porridge, but that didn't work either. He would complain that he couldn't chew the mushy rice grains.
At our worst point The Bun was crying at every meal, so fearful of even sitting at the dinner table that he would cry before even taking a bite. I think this was also partly my fault because I thought that he was throwing tantrums about having to eat food that he didn't like, and I didn't want to set up any precedents about mealtime behaviour. All this coincided of course with his latest 'the world is unfair' aka 'why do I have to listen to you?!' phase where he constantly challenges J and me on all our decisions, even ones that don't concern him like which parking lot we pick. If he doesn't win, then he 'feel[s] sad' (his words), whines, or has an outright meltdown. Fun times, worthy of another post.
Besides, when food wasn't an issue, The Bun seemed totally fine. Playing, walking, talking, singing as usual. The proverbial toddler who lived on air (and some milk). For an entire week his diet consisted of: whole milk (maybe 400ml in total), yogurt (fruity bits spit out), tomato juice (others, like apple, were rejected), mashed-up kiwi fruit, and mini M&Ms (part of our potty training). I also started giving him a nightly serving of chocolate Pediasure, just to top him up and to boost his intake, since he has never been a big milk drinker.
I just couldn't figure out what was wrong. It wasn't HFMD because he had no fever, no spots, and none of the other symptoms beyond loss of appetite. He sometimes said he had a sore throat, but kept on yelling and talking as if nothing hurt. Or else he would point to a tooth and say it hurt, but when I brushed his teeth as usual twice a day (and I brush quite firmly), he wouldn't flinch, and neither did he complain or refuse tooth-brushing. Besides, the fact that he ate M&Ms and kiwi made me suspect that the issue wasn't something to do with his teeth. And he wasn't afraid of food per se: he kept on pretend cooking and pretend eating, but he just wouldn't do the real thing.
We saw our usual paediatrician, then another a week later for a second opinion when things didn't improve. Both said the same thing: The Bun's teeth are fine, he is not teething because they have all grown in, his tonsils are clear, but perhaps his throat is/was sore and when he tried to eat previously it hurt so much that now he is afraid to eat again. They didn't seem too worried since The Bun was alert and active and obviously not in any danger of starvation. The second doctor also pointed out that The Bun's nose was blocked and that constant mouth breathing may have caused his throat to feel dry and constricted, which would have made a sore throat feel worse.
The new policy at home became like this: we would keep The Bun hydrated and continue offering him fluids, but during mealtimes, we wouldn't ask him to eat, even if he was seated at the same table. He is verbal enough to describe hunger (not that he ever asked for any food, liquid or solid, during the whole saga) and he is mobile enough to help himself to food if he wants it, so we wouldn't coax, force, or otherwise persuade him to eat. It was actually very sad for me to see him watch us eat with huge eyes filled with desire, but for quite a few days, he refused to even have food placed in front of him. Once or twice he couldn't resist and would grab a biscuit or a spoonful of what I was eating right out of my hand, but he would spit it out almost immediately, and we would both feel a bit upset.
It seemed like he had been traumatised by his sore throat (and yes, my stern attitude when I misread his cues as tantrums in the early days) to try eating. He only ate kiwi fruit because he told me that he could eat them even with a sore throat (they probably felt cold and sweet in his mouth). We had to take baby steps: I would ask him to lick the food, and encourage him when he swallowed crumbs. If he put something in his mouth and chewed, he would be praised, even if he spit the food out. It was like weaning a six-month-old baby.
The bright side in all of this was that I didn't have to decide what to cook for him, or account for his meals when we ate out. I could eat all the spicy stuff I wanted, and it wouldn't matter that there was nothing for The Bun to eat because he wouldn't touch anything anyway. Our family meals also went a lot quicker since I didn't have to help The Bun eat, or clean him up, or anything. It was like having a milk-only baby at the table, only this one could do a lot more than a baby.
In the end, what proved really helpful was when the second paediatrician prescribed a bottle of liquid multivitamins (the nurse: 'What? A child who won't take gummy vitamins?') for The Bun, along with some medication for his allergies and throat. The multivitamins are 'tropical berry' flavoured and taste foul (I tried a spoonful), but The Bun is enamoured with the colourful pictures of animals all over the bottle. He gladly takes it every morning and he claims his sore throat feels better because of it. I'm all for a placebo effect, as long as he is better!
That night, after The Bun's first dose of the 'animal medicine', J and I were at a Taiwanese eatery, sharing potstickers. The plate was in the middle of the table and The Bun was tempted enough to lick one, finally gathering up enough courage to bite small bits of the dough, and eventually the pork filling. He ended up eating half a potsticker and was praised enthusiastically for his efforts. That was the first hump he got over. The next morning, Friday, I bent one of my rules and offered him chocolate biscuits for breakfast. He ate those with no problem. We went out for lunch with my mother and I picked a Japanese place, hoping his favourite foods would tempt him to eat more. He ate two bits of a California roll, an ikura sushi, miso soup, and a lot of seaweed. Score! That night at dinner he shared some ramen with me, and I knew we were going to be fine.
I can describe the whole saga with some detachment now because the strike is over, but when we were in the depths of it, my heart felt so heavy that I would wake every morning, depressed. Even my own meals tasted like cardboard because I couldn't enjoy them. On a rational level I knew that things weren't so bad because The Bun was alert and active, but on an emotional level it was awful seeing my greedy boy shy away from food. J, who gives The Bun his nightly bath, even claimed that he seemed skinnier after a week. (For the record, I think The Bun only lost 200g, if anything at all. His weight is an even 13kg and we finally measured his height at the clinic - 95cm!) It's very hard for parents to see their kid stop eating, especially if there are no other outward signs that indicate illness.
This episode has showed me that yes, children can live on love and fresh air. And knowing that has taught me to ease off on the whole control thing, especially as far as food is concerned. Because The Bun had always been a good eater, I had wrongly assumed that his refusal was a behavioural problem, not a physical one. Although he has started eating again, The Bun is still not back to the way he used to be, and so we have some work ahead of us to boost confidence and trust and hopefully, his appetite.