Dear Sweet Baby,
Last night was another long one, filled with your cries that echoed through the house. I held you against my heart, walking in circles with you cradled in my arms, my bare feet creating a familiar pattern on the worn floorboards. It feels like we haven’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in what seems like forever, and I can sense your frustration and tiredness as much as I feel my own. There’s so much I want to express to you, even though you’re just a tiny babe. My heart is overflowing with emotions, and my mind is racing with thoughts.
As your mother, I often feel like I should instinctively know how to soothe you. Yet, the truth is, I can’t quite understand why you’re crying so intensely; this isn’t a typical cry. All I know is that my instinct drives me to do whatever it takes to make it stop. Are you in pain? This question spins around in my mind, igniting a whirlwind of worries and imaginary scenarios that only heighten my stress. I’ve tried everything: rocking you gently, taking long drives, singing lullabies, and even massaging your back in soothing circles—but nothing seems to ease your cries.
When I cry, it’s not out of anger or frustration, even though those feelings occasionally creep in. I cry because it tears me apart to see you in such distress, your little face turning red and your tiny hands clenching in discomfort. I find myself calling the pediatrician again, seeking reassurance. They tell me it’s just a phase, that I should try the same old tricks of lullabies and rocking. I want to convey to the nurse how deeply worried I am, that your cries—sharp and high-pitched until your voice is hoarse—can’t simply be brushed off as “just a phase.” They suggest I monitor it and call back if things worsen, insisting that all new moms feel this way during this “phase.”
After the call ends, I hold you close once more. Your little breaths against my chest make me melt, and I long to tell you that everything is going to be alright. Maybe this colic is indeed just a phase, and maybe I’m overreacting as a first-time mom. After all, I’ve carried you for nine months. But when I hear your frantic cries, that raw sound of distress, I feel in my gut that this is not something to merely keep an eye on. I need to actively seek a solution to ease what you’re feeling.
So, we continue on this sleepless journey together. I make adjustments to your feeding schedule, work harder on burping you, add gentle drops to your bottle, and even alter my own diet to help your tummy. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. Slowly, I notice a change; the wails begin to subside, and you start to sleep peacefully on my chest instead of crying. Your hand now curls around my finger rather than tensing in pain. My love for you is vast, and I would traverse the world to bring you comfort.
I want to share all of this with you, my darling. Most importantly, I want you to know that my love for you is fierce and completely unconditional.
If you’re facing similar struggles with a fussy baby, know you’re not alone. Check out this video from a real mom who shares her experience. If your little one is crying excessively and seems uncomfortable, they might have difficulties digesting milk. Colief Infant Digestive Aid—given before feedings—can help break down lactose, making it easier for your baby to digest. Before making significant lifestyle changes, such as switching formulas, consider trying Colief to see if it alleviates your baby’s colic-related crying.
For more insights into home insemination and pregnancy, you can explore excellent resources like Healthline on Pregnancy or learn more about Cryobaby’s Home Insemination Kit for your journey.
Summary:
In this heartfelt letter, a mother expresses her struggles and emotions while caring for her colicky baby. Despite sleepless nights and endless crying, she remains determined to find solutions and comfort for her child. Through her journey, she emphasizes the importance of love and connection, reassuring her baby of her unwavering support.