I knew what it could mean, but I was hopeful. Maybe I ate something? Maybe I shouldn't drink milk by the gallons? The laws of colic rushed into my head: three hours per night, three times a week for THREE WEEKS. Well, we got more than we bargained for; three hours per night, seven days a week for four and a half months.
Blame colic for the lack in posting to the blog. I do. Six and a half months later I am finally recovering.
Colic is real, and I don't know if I buy "kind of colicky". With that being said, many days I wished I could describe Ford as "kind of colicky". Instead, when people would ask how he was doing, I would respond with something like "on a scale from good baby to bad baby, we have a BAD baby." I spent my days anticipating the evening spell, and my evenings with hope that tomorrow could be better.
Austin and I were quite the team at combatting colic. Actually, we never mentioned the word or complained to each other. I am not patting us on the back, we were a classic case of denial. If we didn't acknowledge the torture, it wasn't happening.
A typical colicky evening looked something like this:
5:30 pm - Rush home, whip up dinner and force colic drops down Ford
6:00 pm - Eat in shifts while playing man to man, one get the screamer, the other guards the toddler.
6:15 pm - (Yes, we ate in 15 minutes) Bath time - 45 minutes minimum
7:30 pm - Walk the neighborhood. It was pitch black, cold and windy…perfect in our opinion.
8:45 pm - The crying stops and we exhale.
If you or your child had/has colic, hug your mother and remember this too shall pass.
 |
No comments:
Post a Comment