My three-month-old son has colic. STILL. It got better, and then it got bad again. But it’s still not nearly like it was a month or two ago. That was so horrible I think I’ve stricken it from memory.
People who have not parented a baby with colic do not understand what it’s like, and it’s hard to explain to them without breaking down crying yourself. I’m not sure if I should be thankful that ONE had it, so at least I knew how to handle it, or if I should feel cursed that I have birthed two children who both screamed bloody murder for the first few months of life.
I think I’ll choose to be thankful.
We’re switching back to soy formula today, a different brand than before so hopefully it will agree with him. I look forward with much excitement to the day that he smiles his little dimply smile all the time instead of just half the time. If I survive this. Which I guess I will. But most days, I want to run screaming to my mother who lives 6 hours away, or at the very least send Husband to get a vasectomy.
That’s just the sleep deprivation talking. We’ll probably have more kids.
If I survive.
|How can one little guy wreak so much havoc?|