I cannot express the depth of my frustration, Reflux. You dared to inflict pain on my precious little girl, my radiant angel. How could anyone see her light when you cloaked her in cries and discomfort? Because of you, she was labeled the “fussy baby,” the “troublesome one,” and the “constant crier.” Yet, only I could perceive the joyful, giggling spirit trapped beneath the surface of her anguished wails. Only I knew.
If I’m honest, there were days when I found it hard to cherish my bundle of joy. After endless hours of shushing, bouncing, and cleaning up vomit, joy seemed a distant memory. Tender moments between mother and baby vanished, replaced by a chaotic battlefield filled with tears. My little girl fought for breath, for nourishment, for sleep, and all of it was because of you, Reflux.
You robbed us of so much.
You, Reflux, stole our nights. As the sun dipped below the horizon, my husband and I donned our emotional armor. Our darling girl would begin her nightly struggle, squirming, fussing, and ultimately wailing. No amount of soothing could quell the storm that swelled within her every night.
During the day, we managed to cope. If I held her close, we could make it through. But as darkness fell, the fragile grip I had on our situation slipped away, leaving us vulnerable and overwhelmed. How many times did we pace the yard, our little one screaming in our arms? Too many to count. It felt like an endless mission to keep the cries at bay, a purpose in the midst of despair.
I can’t recall the number of nights when I finally stopped marching, collapsing into tears while holding my howling baby. She would scream until she had no fight left, surrendering to a fitful sleep. But there was no rest for us. Hour after hour, she would choke, gag, and cry. The only solace she found was while lying on my chest as I sat upright in bed. For months, we existed in a state of exhaustion. I am so incredibly tired.
You made me feel isolated, Reflux. I felt trapped in my own home. Where could I possibly go? My baby cried everywhere — in the car, at the store, during doctor visits, even at home. No one could babysit her; only I could calm her. I had to forsake my job because I couldn’t bear the thought of her crying while I was away. So, I withdrew, becoming a prisoner to your relentless grasp.
When I reached out for support, few could truly grasp our struggle. The well-meaning comments cut deep: “It’s just a phase,” “Your baby is so beautiful,” or “It can’t be that tough.” Those words, meant to comfort, only amplified my loneliness.
Even outings with friends turned bittersweet. I watched other mothers with their content, cooing babies and felt an unbearable jealousy wash over me. Regrets crept in, and I felt like the worst mom for wishing my baby could be so serene. I was her only advocate, yet I sometimes longed for a different child.
You tried to take so much from me, Reflux — my year, my baby’s early days, my marriage, my family, my entire world. You underestimated our strength. Today marks a new beginning, a promise of a brighter future. We are on the verge of a life unburdened by your shadow.
Yet, the scars you left are deep. The third child I once envisioned remains a distant dream. My husband and I cannot fathom enduring another year with you weighing us down. But that’s alright; my family is perfect just as it is.
My once-crying baby is starting to flourish. She is beautiful, joyful, and thriving. Her strength inspires me, and I hope she carries it as a badge throughout her life. You tried to break us, Reflux, but you only made us stronger. I learned to advocate fiercely for my daughter. “No” became unacceptable. We sought out doctor after doctor until we finally found the answers we desperately needed.
With determination, I pressed on. I discovered strength I didn’t know I had. After countless hours of research, medication, and even a certified sleep consultant, we are thriving. We are beginning to hear laughter instead of screams. We’ve even slept through the night on a few occasions.
While I still flinch at every cry and feel anxiety rise during hiccups, we are moving toward a hopeful future. From the bottom of my heart, I say: Goodbye, Reflux.
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In conclusion, every challenge we faced has only strengthened our bond. As we look ahead, we hold on to the hope of brighter days, knowing we have overcome so much together.