Five hours post-delivery, our newborn, Oliver, began his relentless wailing. He was breastfeeding effectively and appeared to be in perfect health, having even had a bowel movement. We stripped him down, searching for any signs of discomfort or irritation, but found nothing.
Despite our efforts to soothe him—swaddling, skin-to-skin contact, gentle rocking—Oliver’s cries persisted. After an hour of this distress, we reached out to the nurse. “Our baby won’t stop crying,” I admitted, feeling an overwhelming wave of inadequacy wash over me. “Is there anything that can help?”
Her response was less than reassuring. “You might try Mylicon,” she suggested curtly, clearly preoccupied with other responsibilities. “But I can’t bring it to you.”
Finally, my partner, Mark, discovered a technique that seemed to ease Oliver’s distress: a football hold, cradling his head and letting his body dangle. This position calmed him enough for a brief respite, allowing us to catch a few moments of sleep after three exhausting hours of crying.
Three hours, it turned out, was merely the beginning for Oliver. Nights were filled with his endless cries, and despite our attempts at various remedies—Mylicon, tummy massages, leg bicycling, and even homeopathic solutions—nothing seemed effective. The distress often left both Oliver and me in tears. During nursing sessions, he would latch, pull away, and cry, repeating this cycle and causing me to worry about his nutrition.
“I should just stop breastfeeding,” I lamented to Mark. “I feel like I’m hurting him.”
“You can do this,” he reassured me. “It’s not your fault.”
When Oliver wasn’t crying, he was an otherwise delightful baby. Friends even referred to him as the ideal starter baby—calm and adorable. However, it seemed he reserved his screams for home, especially at night.
Finding Solutions
What do you do when faced with a baby who won’t stop crying? In our case, we turned to Mark, who could manage the football hold for extended periods while bouncing on a yoga ball, often for hours each night. I would catch brief moments of sleep, awakening only to nurse.
After a visit to the pediatrician, we heard the disheartening diagnosis: colic. This term implied a lack of understanding about the underlying issues causing Oliver’s distress.
Deep down, I sensed something wasn’t right. I had seen Oliver smile and didn’t accept the notion of colic, which often implies that infants cry simply to exercise their lungs. With Oliver strapped to my chest, I began researching, bookmarking articles, and learning about potential issues.
Eventually, I discovered that he had silent reflux. The cradle cap that covered his face and body was an indicator of a possible allergy, likely to dairy and soy proteins found in my milk. Armed with this information, I returned to the pediatrician’s office, documentation in hand. After observing our nursing struggles, she conceded that he might have reflux and prescribed a treatment.
We started administering the medication with high hopes. That night, Mark bounced Oliver for hours while I nursed him in a carrier to keep him upright. He slept in a swing, which seemed to alleviate some of his discomfort. However, the doctor became increasingly concerned about his weight gain, prompting me to eliminate dairy and soy from my diet completely.
I endured this lifestyle change for nine months for dairy and an entire year without soy. It was a journey filled with trial and error, as I sought substitutes for my favorite foods and faced scrutiny from others about my strict diet. My family only began to understand the severity of Oliver’s situation when they witnessed his intense crying after a meal that contained dairy.
Looking Back
Today, Oliver is six years old, and the days of colic are behind us. He remains cheerful and healthy, although he still has some food intolerances. Our subsequent children experienced colic as well, but we recognized it as reflux early on and treated it promptly, leading to much shorter episodes. We emerged from this experience stronger, having navigated the pain of watching our baby cry and the emotional toll it took on us.
Colic can be a harrowing ordeal, often leading to feelings of frustration and despair. It’s important to acknowledge these feelings and seek support when needed. Taking time for self-care, even if it’s just a quiet bath, can be essential. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Many parents have faced similar challenges, and it’s okay to seek help.
If you’re exploring options for starting a family, consider reading more about at-home insemination techniques, such as those discussed in our post on cryobaby at-home insemination kit, or learn more about in vitro fertilisation for additional insights. For those looking into home insemination kits, you can find valuable information about the baby maker home intracervical insemination syringe kit combo.
Conclusion
In summary, colic is an incredibly challenging experience for parents and infants alike. It’s crucial to seek help, understand the potential medical issues behind the cries, and prioritize self-care throughout the journey.
Keyphrase: colic in infants
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