Having a child with colic is tough and tired business no matter what, but it’s unnecessary, cruel and unusual hell for first time mothers. We’re neurotic, worried, tired, possibly hurting because there are stitches in our VAGINAS (or perhaps a gaping hole in our stomachs), and we feel like we don’t know what in the fresh hell we are doing. Your comments and well-meaning advice are only adding to the shit pile of tired and stinky misery.
This goes double if you’re doling out advice attached to a penis. I’m not man-hating, I’m just telling you that you can’t possibly identify with the feeling of birthing a child from your stitched up VAGINA and then feeling like that child, who you would walk through fire to save, hates your guts.
What am I doing wrong?
Is something wrong with my baby?
Is something wrong with ME?
The self-doubt is endless and compounded by the monumental lack of sleep. Whatever advice, bastardized wisdom, or well-meaning thoughts you have to impart are already dancing around in the head of most first time moms. I already know everything you’re going to say, so please spare me confirmation of things that already scare me. I know you mean well. But your comments are not making me or my screaming kid any better (or quieter).
So please, shut up when you’re talking to me.
10 Pieces of Colicky Wisdom (and Dumb Questions) To Keep To Yourself:
- Have you tried swaddling?
Are you kidding me, yo? If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me this, or for every time I did it (and it did not help my crying baby), I could have hired a nanny to deal with that shit. I think swaddling actually pissed him off more.
This question used to make my husband homicidal. He would always give me that look only I understood that said, “Are we seriously getting this question again?” It became a darkly comical joke after awhile.
- Have you tried riding him around in the car?
Well yes, we did try this. However, my colicky baby hated the car and his car seat as much as he hated everything else. In fact, he would sometimes cry so hard in the car seat on our way to visit his grandmother, or on my way to the grocery store, or on the way to EVERYWHERE, that I had to change his clothes upon arrival. He was always soaked in sweat from the fit. If we went anywhere, I cried the whole way too.
- You should really get out of the house.
Okay, if you’d like to bathe me, dress me, and brush my teeth, we’ll go wherever you want. I might fall asleep though. Also, reference #2.
- Maybe he’s hungry.
Oh, I’m supposed to feed this thing? I had no idea.
- You should switch to formula. It’s more filling.
Ah, the breast feeding/formula feeding debate. I don’t care what your choice is, but mine was breastfeeding and I’d like you to mind your own business before I slap your face with my leaking, possibly bleeding, boobie. I’ll use the big one, too.
- He can sense that you’re stressed. Just try to relax.
F*CK YOU. I’m not exactly living in a Zen garden here.
- He’s just gassy, it will pass.
Well then, this is the biggest and most trapped gas bubble in history. I suggest you clear out. (Said while standing in a pile of empty Mylicon bottles).
- You’ll look back on these times and miss them. They grow so fast!
No. No, I won’t.
- You look tired.
Thanks, Mr. (or Mrs.) Obvious. You look like shit too, but I don’t see your crying baby.
- Just let him cry. He’ll stop eventually.
You are a jackass. Remind me to never ask you to baby sit.
What CAN you say to a mom with a colicky baby? There’s pretty much one thing:
- Let me hold him and you go take a nap.
Do we sound bitchy? We probably are, but we aren’t in our right state of mind. We aren’t sleeping. We are first-time mothers. Come back in four months and bring wine.