Parenting
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I struggled immensely during the newborn phase with my first child. While it might be a sensitive topic, I faced a severe challenge with my daughter due to colic—a term that describes relentless, unexplained crying. It’s a subject rarely discussed, and the experience was deeply traumatic, shaping my perception of normalcy until the arrival of my second child.
From the very first day, my oldest daughter’s cries were not just typical baby whimpers; they were ear-piercing screams that lasted for hours on end, day and night, for nearly seven months. There was no clear reason behind it, and it was as unsettling then as it remains today. After long, exhausting days, I found myself in the parking lot of Target, tears streaming down my face, seeking a moment of peace away from the incessant noise.
I constantly felt like I was failing her. “What am I doing wrong? This can’t be how it’s supposed to be.” I tried every trick I could find—devouring tips from others, reading countless articles, and testing various theories. With each method that worked for someone else but not for us, my feelings of inadequacy deepened.
Well-meaning friends and family would suggest different approaches, which only exacerbated my self-doubt, as colic has no predictable pattern. “Maybe your milk isn’t enough; consider formula” (despite her healthy weight gain). “You need to be stricter with her schedule” (I had tried every schedule imaginable, but her cries were so unpredictable that routine seemed irrelevant). “Try putting her to bed earlier” (even starting bedtime at 5 PM didn’t calm her until midnight). “Babies only cry when they need something; are you sure everything’s alright?” (I visited the doctor numerous times, hoping for an explanation, only to hear that everything was fine).
I eventually stopped discussing it because it became too difficult to articulate, making me feel even more isolated. It was particularly maddening when she wouldn’t cry around others, leading me to question my own experiences. I hesitated to invite people over, worried they would only witness her few calm moments while I endured the chaos. It was a psychological battle.
Despite knowing logically that colic was random and beyond my control, the self-doubt clung to me. When she finally started sleeping better, it felt transformative, yet the memory of those months lingered. Even when she had the occasional rough night, I panicked, fearing we were back where we started—it felt like PTSD.
Now, three months into my second daughter’s life, the weight of that fear has begun to lift. I didn’t realize how deeply I carried it. Initially, I approached my younger daughter with trepidation, panicking at every little cry, convinced we were reliving the nightmare, even though she was simply being a “normal” baby.
However, by month three, it became clear—my second daughter didn’t have colic. It was merely a matter of luck. I was feeding her the same way, following similar sleep routines, and yet, I was blessed with a completely different baby. I had preached that “every baby is different,” but now I fully understand it on a personal level.
I didn’t fail my first daughter. I endured. Looking back, it may sound dramatic, but I navigated through the experience as best as I could.
For anyone going through similar challenges, know this: You did nothing wrong. You can’t “fix” it, and it’s okay to not enjoy every moment. Though it may feel eternal, this phase won’t last forever. You will come out the other side, and it’s perfectly okay to cry. What helped me the most was support from friends, family, and even my pediatrician, who reassured me, “I’m sorry. You’re doing a great job.” So, if you need to hear it: I’m sorry. You’re doing wonderfully.
Though she can still be challenging, my once-colicky baby has blossomed into an incredible toddler.
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