Avoiding Obesity: My Unhealthy Obsession with Raising a Healthy Daughter
Obesity. That word graces every single one of my medical records for as long as I can remember — from childhood to now. I cringe when I see it printed boldly on those follow-up notes I get when I visit my doctor. It doesn’t matter if I’m there because my preschooler gifted me her strep throat, or because the knife slipped while I was chopping veggies for dinner, the word obesity is always somewhere, staring back at me alongside the notes about prescriptions and follow-ups.
For those of us who struggle with lifelong obesity, the word may bring up feelings of shame and inadequacy — it certainly does for me. I have spent my life dieting. In preschool, my best friends were twins who would pinch my cheeks and sing, “chubby chubby cheeks today!” As a child, there were nutritionists, weight loss camps, and bullying from my peers. Trendy diet drugs were prescribed from sketchy weight-loss clinics in my teens. As an adult, I have counted carbs, points, and steps. I’ve shared weight-loss successes and setbacks in meetings full of other adults in similar places. My weight has been high and it’s been low, but I’m never satisfied with the number that appears no matter how desperately I want to be.
Now that I’m a parent, I struggle to separate the negatives of my own experiences with food from my daughter’s experiences with food. I want her relationship with food and her body to be as healthy as mine is unhealthy, but how do I raise her to be whole when I am so broken? It’s been a source of struggle for me since her birth.
I never produced enough milk to exclusively breastfeed, and never accepted that the meager ounces I was able to produce were good enough. I saw lactation consultants hoping for a miracle, but all of the pumping and supplements in the world didn’t keep my daughter fed. I had no choice but to supplement with formula, and I tortured myself over it. Formula scared me because so much of the literature out there said that breastfed babies were less likely to develop childhood obesity. I cried as I fed my newborn a bottle of formula, but it was the first time in hours that she wasn’t crying. Her tummy was full, and she was content — I wish that alone had been enough to give me some peace about formula.
When it was time for solids, baby led weaning seemed to be the way to go. The book said it would encourage my daughter to embrace a healthier and more diverse diet from the very start. I was so hopeful that this experience alone would create a lifetime love affair with healthy eating for her. We showered her with slices of ripe avocado, lightly roasted wedges of sweet potato, and broccoli florets steamed to perfection. She adored healthy food — until she didn’t.
At some point in late toddler-hood, sugar made an impression on her developing palate. She was never a juice-drinker — even now, she prefers water over anything. Perhaps it was the bit of syrup I served with her 3-ingredient pancakes, or the occasional special treat her grandfather would sneak in. Whatever the culprit, since the age of 3, we have struggled to convince our daughter that green food is good. Given the chance, she would likely choose exist solely on boxed mac & cheese and fruit snacks. What’s that old saying? “You can lead a preschooler to broccoli, but you can’t make them to chew.” Something like that.
This is where I really have to work to battle my own issues and insecurities. She is not me. She is healthy, active, and growing like the little bit of mint planted for a once-a-year mojito that has now overtaken the entire garden. Yes, she has a sweet tooth and a preference for processed cheese product, but she is equally happy to sit outside and share in the abundance of our little mandarin tree. She also has the ability to leave an unfinished cup of ice cream in the freezer and forget it’s there. She is so not me.
Four-and-a-half years into this parenting gig, I have finally accepted that my kid is fine and that maybe — just maybe — her overall health is an indication that I’m doing a good job despite my own inner demons. I still may not know exactly how to raise a child without food or weight issues, but I’ve had enough experience to know how not to raise a child without food or weight issues. When you know better, you do better.
