RAFAEL started eating in January, and with that simple milestone, our home became noisier, messier, and strangely more alive.
Suddenly, meals were no longer just something I rushed through between naps and diaper changes.
I chose baby-led weaning (BLW) without a grand plan or strict rulebook.
Like many new parents, I read enough to be curious, but not enough to be fully prepared.
What I did know, though, was what I wanted at the end of it all.
I wanted Rafael to love food.
I wanted him to see eating as something enjoyable, not stressful.
I wanted mealtimes to feel safe, curious, and free – free from pressure, force, and expectations.
What followed has been a journey that is equal parts exhausting and heartwarming.
BLW is not for those who fear mess.
Food ends up everywhere – on the floor, on the highchair, on his clothes, and in places I didn’t know food could reach.
More often than not, Rafael ends his meals completely smeared with food – cheeks streaked with pumpkin, hands sticky with banana, little bits of green clinging stubbornly to his hair and chin.
And yet, he almost always looks incredibly pleased with himself.
There he sits, surveying the chaos he has created, grinning proudly as if the mess itself is part of the achievement.
It is hard to be frustrated when your baby is that delighted by his own handiwork.
There are days when I spend more time cleaning than cooking, and moments when I stare at the aftermath of a meal wondering if anything actually made it into his stomach.
But then there are moments when Rafael picks up a piece of food with quiet determination, examines it closely, and brings it to his mouth with confidence.
Those moments make everything else fade into the background.
Watching him eat on his own has been surprisingly emotional.
There is something powerful about seeing such a small human take control of something so fundamental.
BLW requires you to step back – not just physically, but emotionally too.
You fight the instinct to hover, to help, to put the spoon in his mouth “just to make sure he eats”.
Instead, you observe, you trust and you learn to sit with discomfort, especially during the gagging phases, reminding yourself that this is part of the process, not a failure.
What continues to amaze me is how adventurous Rafael already is.
He genuinely enjoys eating all sorts of greens and fruits – broccoli, spinach, pumpkin, avocado, bananas, papaya.
Foods that many parents worry their children will reject are met with curiosity, sometimes even enthusiasm.
He squishes them, tastes them, chews slowly, and occasionally pulls a face that leaves me guessing whether it’s delight or disappointment.
Either way, he often goes back for more, proudly smearing another layer of evidence across his face and hands.
For now, I haven’t introduced beef, chicken, or fish yet because there is no rush.
If there is one thing BLW has taught me, it is that progress does not need to be hurried.
Every baby has their own rhythm, and Rafael is quietly showing me that exploration matters more than ticking boxes.
At this stage, food is not about perfection or portions.
It is about learning textures, flavours, coordination, and trust.
And then there are the rice crackers.
He loves them – truly loves them.
The moment he hears the faint crinkle of the packet, his eyes light up with unmistakable excitement.
He also enjoys snacking, happily munching between meals.
Some might worry that snacks spoil appetites, but I see it differently.
I see a baby who associates food with comfort, excitement, and pleasure.
I see small hands learning independence, fine motor skills, and choice – all before his first birthday.
Through this experience, I’ve realised that BLW is as much about unlearning as it is about learning.
It forces parents to confront their need for control.
You can prepare the food, create a safe environment, and offer variety – but after that, the rest is up to the child.
How much he eats, whether he eats at all, and what he prefers on any given day are decisions he gets to make.
That surrender has not been easy.
There are days when I worry.
Days when he appears like he is eating very little and I find myself questioning everything.
But then I remind myself that this journey is a long one.
Eating habits are not formed in a week or a month.
They are shaped over years, through repeated exposure, positive experiences, and trust.
My biggest hope is not just that Rafael eats well now, but that he grows up loving food.
I want him to approach meals with curiosity rather than fear.
I want him to try new things without anxiety, to understand that it’s okay not to like everything, and to listen to his body.
I don’t expect him to love every vegetable forever, but I hope he never becomes afraid of food or picky out of pressure.
Food, after all, is deeply personal.
It carries culture, memory, comfort, and connection.
I hope Rafael grows up seeing meals as moments of togetherness, not conflict.
Moments to slow down, not rush through.
Moments to enjoy, not endure.
BLW has taught me patience in ways I didn’t expect.
It has shown me that parenting often means letting go—of timelines, expectations, and the idea that there is one “right” way to do things.
Some days are overwhelming.
Some days I am tired beyond words.
But then there are days when Rafael finishes a meal grinning, face smeared, hands sticky, proudly surrounded by the mess he has made – and I know this is exactly where we are meant to be.
Messy? Absolutely. Chaotic? Without a doubt. Yet it’s also gentle, grounding, and filled with small, beautiful moments that remind me how quickly these early days are passing.
And if this is how his journey with food begins – curious, joyful, and unafraid – then I think we are doing just fine.
DISCLAIMER:
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at sarahhafizahchandra@gmail.com.
