The End of an Era

So long, Colic. You will not be missed. For months, you have wreaked havoc on our daughter's well-being, despite the fact that we denied your very existence. Ten hours a day, seven days a week, we endured your cries and protestations channeled through the innocence of our baby girl. How rude.

You did not let Juna relax throughout the day. You decided she could only be comfortable swaddled, held on her side and bounced, and I have the sore back to prove it. You made sure she would like only to be in my arms and no one else's. You prevented her from sleeping soundly, and ensured her only respite be nursing, which she did for hours on end. Oh, you tried to make her cry and scream all day, but we found ways to circumvent your desire using all the tricks we could find (thank you, Happiest Baby on the Block!). Still, she fussed and squirmed, searching always for comfort and peace. She smiled through it all, so there.

You made us doubt our abilities as parents, and left us wide open to well-meaning, though misguided comments, regarding our natural instincts. We fielded many a remark insisting our daughter needed more food, less attention, medical intervention. We were told we simply didn't understand this baby, though no one spends more time learning and listening to their child than the parents of an infant with colic. You made us feel powerless, impotent. Our anxiety level was at an all-time high; you tested the bond of our marriage, as we struggled to find solutions and answers. Too bad for you, we're happier than ever.

You did, however, inspire empathy and understanding from those who had walked this path before us. We received an outpouring of support reassuring us that it would get better, that we weren't doing anything wrong, and that soon we would begin to enjoy, rather than fear, this process. We learned to lean on friends and family, who fielded many tearful phone calls, so saddened we were with Juna's struggle. Thank you to all the people who told us we were doing a good job.

It's been over a week, Colic, since you've reared your ugly head. You have lost your hold over Juna. She is too strong for you! Her natural personality is shining through, revealing a happy, alert, curious and easy baby. Yes, she's an easy baby. I knew we had seen the last of you when I took Juna to Sacramento on a plane, by myself, and she was a delight the whole time. She patiently relaxed against me in her wrap as we stood in the security line, and smiled at our fellow passengers while babbling to me about our day. Once on the plane, she stared out the window, fascinated by the view of the sky.

Colic, I wish I could wax philosophical about what we learned from you, but I can't. You are a miserable, dark force and we are happy to see you go. So, goodbye, Colic. May we never cross paths again.

Angel Baby