Colic

I'm tired.  I'm a new mom.

I have a beautiful 3 month old baby boy.  He has these wonderful moments when he smiles, laughs, holds my finger in his tiny little hands, and just completely melts my heart.  These moments fuel me and keep me going.  But they are just moments, for now anyways.

My baby has colic.  And not just your standard colic.  All day long screaming at the top of your lungs in pain colic.  The kind of colic where if he isn't sleeping or eating, he is probably crying. When he cry's, I cry.  I rock him, shush him, swaddle him, tell him I love him and that it will pass, take him for car rides, bathes, let him lie on the clothes dryer, put on the hair dryer, give him griper water, simethecone drops, probiotic drops, chamomile tea, and as much love as I can muster, but it doesn't help.  I'm helpless, helpless to soothe my baby.  It's a horrible feeling.  The worst feeling in the world, my world, and colic is my world.  Unless I am sleeping, then I am living it.  Colic is a diagnosis for parents, not just baby's, and it is so taxing.  We are three months in, and I pray every day, every hour, that this soon will pass.  Please lord let this pass.

The anger I feel towards new moms with happy baby's is extreme.  Anger, jealousy, remorse that I cannot feel happy for their happiness, sadness, and depression.  These new moms of happy baby's take their babies to the store, to their friends houses, out in public where people can fawn over their tiny little angels.  My friends want to meet my baby, my family wants to meet my baby.  I don't want anyone to meet my baby.  My baby and I have been on lock-down for three months.

I know we will get through this... we have to get through this.  Right now, life is hard, and I pray every morning when my baby wakes up that this will be the day that the colic is over.