Part 3 - The Baby Who Needs More
Content Warning: infant medical challenges, colic, reflux, medical interventions
It’s important to say this alongside the hard parts: I am incredibly grateful to be home with my baby. Even on the hardest days, I know how lucky I am to witness his growth up close… to be the one he looks for, the one he smiles at first thing in the morning.
He is a baby who needs more.
Colic. Screaming. Crying for hours.
GI issues: abdominal cramping from crying, dyschezia, suspected reflux.
Hip dysplasia and a rhino harness. Eczema.
Sleep regressions. Sleep stretches overnight lasting no longer than two hours at a time.
Each piece on its own is manageable. Together, they compound.
A baby who hates being laid flat. A baby who will not nap lying down. A baby who screams when overtired. A baby who can only fall back asleep on the breast overnight.
Every nap requires careful attention, tucked away in what I’ve half‑jokingly called the dungeon. Baby needs a very precise set-up for napping, one factor being complete darkness. He fights these naps, spending a lot of time crying and not wanting to sleep. From the outside, it might not seem so bad… ‘contact naps’ sound cozy, right? I love them. I love the closeness. The snuggles. But the reality is that it is isolating, exhausting, and mentally draining in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.
Wake windows are spent holding him. Car rides are a gamble. Evenings are fragile.
Putting the hip brace on repeatedly all day after diaper changes feels emotionally cruel… for him and for me.
By late December and early January, my notes looked like a medical chart crossed with a diary. At some point, we stopped searching for the answer and started layering small ones. Elimination diet for me (dairy, soy, whey, casein). Medications/supplements for baby. Routine changes. Shorter/longer wake windows. Less caffeine. Bedtime routine changes. Constantly debating if a one-degree difference in the thermostat would make things finally work out. Should I play rain white noise or a lullaby? None of it was instant, and none of it was perfect.
Nighttime screaming stopped for a period of time. Then returned.
Overnight wakings every 1-2 hours remain.
Progress is not linear. It comes quietly, unevenly, and without a clear explanation.
After each major crying spell that lasts days, a new skill suddenly appears... Grasping toys, squealing, sitting up.
It is as if his body is saying, Something is changing… but first, we scream.
For me, it makes it all feel worth it. To see him come out on the other side. Growing into a little boy… with personality. It certainly feels worth it, but my body still takes a massive blow along the way.