When the baby screams in the still of night

SJ Snelson - 30 Mar 16

I had watched one of my closest friends crumble under colic induced chaos and I felt so completely helpless.

I rocked her baby, I held her baby, I pushed the buggy with her baby – I did everything I could to try to reduce the screaming bouncing around the walls. I could see the exhaustion in my friend’s eyes and the desperation to make it stop. I could see she was blaming herself and I understood she felt judged.

3 hours later when I left I was shattered and relieved to close the door behind me. The baby was still unsettled and crying.

I knew that I couldn’t understand how my friend felt and I was worried for her. It was all too much.

But it didn’t last forever. And the screaming baby turned into an incredible little toddler who brightens every day. (In fact she is a favourite of mine.)

Then my turn came. And I clung onto my friend’s advice like the buoy attached to a sinking anchor. If it wasn’t for her I would not have known that colic was even a thing.

It was really hard – My Bambina was so distressed for hours on end; she was red-faced and pained, she was tucked up and screaming, she was exhausted. Even when she slept she grunted, yelped, winced whilst drawing her legs up.

The reflux came and I wore her projectile vomit whilst holding vigil by her bed – my hand on her stomach to ease the pain and allow her some rest. I have never felt so very aware of my being and my body’s physical strength to keep going – but I was dead on my feet.

I was a mess and out of my mind with worry. I could feel my marbles escaping one by one. I had Googled everything and took recordings of Bambina to the doctors. There was nothing that could be done – but “babies usually grow out of it once they can move trapped wind themselves”. I sank.

I counted how many nights I had left until I could buy gripe water; a magic cure I was yet to try. I may have also cried whilst purchasing all of the infacol on the supermarket shelf fearing life without it. I prodded her feet hoping for a reflexology miracle. And I daringly allowed her to fall asleep on her front.

I was at times tempted to lock Bambina in the car so I couldn’t hear the screaming – Don’t worry, I didn’t but I had thought about it.

I told people that I felt like throwing her out of the window when they asked how she slept. I saw the shock on their faces. I refused to sugar coat the colic abyss I was in.

I was bitter on behalf of my baby. Why is this happening and why can’t I make it stop?

Every afternoon, evening and night I struggled to watch her in pain and I thought about how many times in the future I am probably going to have to suffer watching Bambina hurt and how in all those instances she will look to me, as I still look to my mother. I was scared I couldn’t do it – I felt tested and incompetent.

The light at the end of the tunnel was the little toddler who brightens up the days. She gave me hope.

We formulated a tag team. Mr O took the 2am – 4am shift, taking our screaming Bambina downstairs allowing me 2 hours of solid sleep. 2 hours sleep was like 13846892 cans of red bull – I was ready to go again.

As the days passed, the crying calmed. The sleep grunting reduced in volume and then ebbed away. And by 4 months and 13 days (12 bottles of infacol and 2 bottles of gripe water later) it vanished. Just like that, a snap of fingers, Bambina was better and I gathered up my marbles.

Coping with colic as a first time mom is terrifying and for me over shadowed some of the beautiful newborn days.

I really don’t think I would have remained so strong without knowing of my friend’s experience. I, in fact, don’t think I would have coped at all. She was my life line (and I don’t think she even knows it); she enabled me not to self-blame which in turn made me acknowledge I was doing my best. And with that realise that just because I wasn’t feeling euphoric and enjoying my every new born moment didn’t mean I wasn’t being a good mom.

Her experience where mine was lacking taught me this. I had watched her in this moment – I saw pure love decant from her to her baby, I witnessed her strength not leave despite sheer enervation. I saw her being a fabulous mother. I was proud of her and so I allowed myself the kindness to be a little proud of myself.

Sometimes as part of the Mama Army the very least we can do is speak honestly and openly to others. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to my friend for not hiding her less than easy baby moments. By not concealing the dark phases we can begin to allow ourselves to accept that we are doing our best whilst feeling blind. The more we share the more we equip, and the kinder we are to those who follow in our footsteps – including our sons and daughters.

Thank you to my friend and her toddler who brightens up the days.

Image by Colleen Larmour @littlecarouselshop

SJ Snelson

I'm SJ. Living in Brum, in the middle land. I have 1 crazy bambina, 1 step-teenager, and 1 husband (who fluctuates between superman and Magneto - often depending on my mood). My family and friends are always my staples, my clan, my tribe – and Bambina my hero. Find me on insta @themamacave

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