Five hours after delivery, the cries began. Baby Lucas was nursing well, appearing perfectly normal for a newborn. He had a clean diaper, and we even checked for any physical obstructions. But the screaming persisted, and despite our best efforts—swaddling, skin-to-skin contact, bouncing, and soothing—nothing seemed to alleviate his distress. After an hour, I felt compelled to call for assistance.
“Our baby won’t stop crying,” I confessed to the nurse, feeling a wave of inadequacy wash over me. “Is there something we can give him?”
“Try Mylicon,” she suggested nonchalantly, clearly preoccupied with other tasks.
“Could you bring it to us?” I inquired.
“No,” was her curt reply.
Finally, my partner discovered a technique that seemed to ease Lucas’s discomfort: the football hold. With Lucas cradled in his arms, his cries gradually subsided, and for the first time, he relaxed enough to sleep. It was a bittersweet victory after three long hours of inconsolable crying.
As the days turned into nights, we learned that three hours was merely a warm-up for Lucas. The evening hours were filled with relentless wailing. We tried Mylicon, tummy massages, and every gas relief solution available. We even explored homeopathic remedies and purchased a baby swing, all to no avail. The crying often left both of us in tears.
During breastfeeding, Lucas would suck vigorously, then pull away, screaming again. I found myself counting the intervals between his cries, desperately hoping he would nurse just a bit longer. The constant interruptions led me to question whether I could continue breastfeeding. “Maybe I should just stop,” I told my partner, feeling defeated. “I’m not helping him.”
“You can do this,” he reassured me. “It’s not your fault.”
When Lucas wasn’t crying, he was a delightful baby, often praised by friends as the ideal starter child. However, the screaming episodes were reserved for home, particularly at night.
What to Do with an Inconsolable Infant
In our case, my partner took over. He became the master of the football hold and would bounce on a yoga ball while scrolling through reviews online. This nightly routine lasted for hours, allowing me to catch some much-needed rest.
We eventually visited our pediatrician, who uttered the dreaded diagnosis: colic. This essentially meant, “We have no idea what’s wrong, so good luck.”
I wasn’t convinced. I had seen moments of happiness in my baby. The idea of colic felt insufficient to explain his distress. Armed with research I had gathered while bouncing Lucas on a yoga ball, I returned to the doctor, determined to find answers. I suspected silent reflux could be the culprit, as the cradle cap covering his body hinted at potential allergies—likely to dairy and soy in my diet.
After observing our nursing struggles, the pediatrician agreed to trial a reflux medication. We were hopeful. That night, my partner spent another five hours bouncing Lucas, while I adapted our feeding to an upright position. We even tried co-sleeping to maximize nursing opportunities.
I eliminated all dairy and soy from my diet, but it would take time for the allergens to clear from Lucas’s system. We experimented with various medications; some led to allergic reactions that required a trip to the emergency room. Eventually, we found a treatment recommended by specialists in infant reflux, and at four months old, the crying finally ceased.
I maintained a strict dairy and soy-free diet for nearly a year. I learned to navigate restaurant menus and family gatherings with meticulous caution. My mother thought I was exaggerating until she witnessed Lucas’s distress firsthand when a server mistakenly included butter in his meal.
Now, at six years old, Lucas is a happy child, free from the colic days of his infancy. He still has some dietary intolerances, but our experience with subsequent children was vastly improved; we recognized reflux early on and addressed it swiftly.
The Emotional Toll of Colic
Through it all, we endured the pain of watching our child suffer, the physical toll on my partner, and my own doubts about motherhood. Colic took a significant emotional toll, making us feel overwhelmed and frustrated. But we persevered. Seeking a break was vital, and I wish we had reached out for more help during that challenging time.
Ultimately, colic does not last forever. Many parents face this struggle, and it’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed and even resentful during those tough times. I certainly did. But just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, it ended.
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In summary, colic is a challenging experience that many parents share, but it is temporary. By reaching out for support, educating ourselves, and remaining patient, we can navigate these turbulent times with resilience.