I had one great fear during my pregnancy. It had nothing to do with giving birth. It was Colic. My worst fear has come alive and my strength is being put to the test every day.
I am a mother with a colicky baby.
I deserve a medal. Seriously. And so does every other parent who has gone through this.
The overwhelming joy I felt when my son was born has transformed into desperation, helplessness, frustration. The constant screaming and crying is taking it's toll on me. I've done it all. I've tried it all. I've done the vaccum, the shower, the dryer, the hair dryer, the swing, the bouncer, all the home remedies, the mint tea, the swaddling, the shhhing. My only solice is found in my baby sling. My days and evenings are spent walking the streets with him in his sling. Sometimes I go to the park with him and swing, and I cry right along with him.
I don't say this to be negative. I don't say this for pity. I say this because so many people don't. They fear that if they say this out loud it makes them a bad mother. I can't sugarcoat this. I can't pretend that life with a baby is wonderful and blissful. I love my baby more than anything in this world - but wonderful and blissful is the farthest from what my life is like right now. From sun up to sun down, when not feeding or sleeping, I hold my son and stare helplessly into his screaming, bright red, contorted face, wincing in pain, begging for some sort of relief, and there is nothing I can do. It makes my whole heart hurt.
This is the most trying time of my life. I know everyone says colic will eventually end but I am struggling. I cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel.