Motherhood. It will build you up and tear you down, in a thousand different ways, over and over again. While no experience is the same, so many of us struggle with the same general themes; sleeping, feeding, tantrums, milestones, anxiety, etc. Some of us thrive in one area and can’t seem to get a hold on another. Most of it is just luck and completely out of our control. Some of us get easy babies. Some of us get hard babies. It really is a randomized lottery.
The addition of Lyla Mei to our family has been complex. It has been filled with love, tears, frustration, confusion, and happiness. For the first month or so, Lyla was a dream baby, with a few crying fits that were normal newborn behavior. At 6 weeks, she started to develop severe reflux, and we’ve been on a journey to make it better ever since.
When I was pregnant with Lyla, I made a promise to myself and to Mike, that if I experienced the same breastfeeding issues I did with Grady I would stop sooner (I’ve written about my breastfeeding journey with Grady on here previously if you’re curious). I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, put myself through the same agony again. Not just for me and my mental health, but for the overall health of our family. I would have two children to care for, both of whom deserve and need a mentally well mother. But, ever the optimist, I purchased all the same nursing supplies I did before to prepare; the bras, pillows, teas, pumps etc. I hoped and wished this time would be different
After delivering Lyla, she latched beautifully. We even had a nurse tell us after she was cleaning Lyla’s spit up that she saw colostrum in the spit up. I was so hopeful this time would be different. And then, just like when we brought Grady home, on her second day home from the hospital she didn’t produce a wet diaper. The Lactation Consultant came the next day, and she still hadn’t had one. We went through the normal Lactation Consultant protocol; feed, weigh, pump etc. She took in less than an ounce after a 25 minute breastfeeding session with me, and after I fed her I pumped half an ounce after 25 minutes of pumping. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing and pathetic. The LC put one of those contraptions on me, the tube that sticks to your breast to make your baby think the formula is coming from you. It was ridiculous, and we eventually just gave her 2 ounces of formula by bottle. She sucked it down and instantly peed.
All the same feelings immediately came back. The pit in my stomach, the dread. Because I knew where this path leads. I had flashbacks of being up in the middle of the night, alone with my pump, every time after Grady ate. Cold, wishing I was warm in my bed, already sleep deprived and losing more precious sleep. Trying to force my body to produce more than it could. Spiraling with consuming thoughts if Grady was getting enough, 24-7. Eating copious amounts of oatmeal, taking supplements, scarfing lactation cookies, etc.
I breastfed Lyla for 4 weeks until we transitioned her fully to formula. Around 6 weeks was when Lyla started having trouble feeding. She arched her back when we gave her a bottle, and was very burpy and squirmy. We decided to switch her formula, and went on an up and down journey to find the right one. Unfortunately her symptoms worsened; she made a loud clicking noise when she was sucking the bottle, screamed bloody murder after her bottle was over, regurgitated acid reflux bubbles that caused her pain, had loud, painful hiccups etc. We made countless trips to the pediatrician, chiropractor, Occupational Therapist, pediatric GI, pediatric cardiologist, etc. I have spent hours of my life, probably a week at this point, on reddit threads searching for solidarity from other parents who have gone through this. Let me tell you, there are a lot of them, and ultimately it seems that the only thing that seems to work with reflux is time. Not to get all medical, but for context, when we are born, we’re born with an immature digestive system and underdeveloped esophagus. For most babies, this isn’t a big deal and they are able to digest and handle their food fine. For others, the underdevelopment causes acid to build because it’s not being digested. It then comes back up the esophagus due to the inability to keep it down. When we went to the pediatric GI, she gave us a diagnosis of infant colic, with the hope that Lyla would grow out of it by 4-5 months.
At the time, the colic diagnosis felt like a punch in the gut. No, it was a punch in the gut. She was 2 and a half months at the time; we had now idea how we would make it to 4-5 under the same circumstances.
We really hoped our newborn experience would be different with Lyla. With Grady, it was the beginning of the pandemic, and we were forced to shelter in place along with the rest of the world. He also had some colic issues, but they subsided around 3 months. Lyla’s unpredictable reflux episodes made us too anxious to go out, from fear she would scream the whole time. I’ve been too anxious to leave her, and when I do I am wreck with nerves, praying she isn’t screaming her head off for whoever is watching her. Even though Mike is her father (and an active/present one at that), as her mother I felt responsible for her colic. From the throes of the unexpected screaming episodes, some that could last hours, inability to set her down to simply eat or go to the bathroom, etc, I felt like it was my fault. That just like Grady, if I had been able to breastfeed her she wouldn’t have reflux. My dad passed away when I was 28 weeks pregnant, and I worry that the emotional trauma of that experience affected Lyla in the womb. Or maybe it was something else I did during pregnancy that I shouldn’t have done, and therefore its my fault.
I know how ridiculous that sounds. Even writing it, I know none of that contributed to Lyla’s issues. And I can hear my dad, from wherever he is, love-screaming at me not to blame myself. He knew I was too hard on myself, and I know he feels guilty he isn’t here with us either. I can actually feel how sad he is. Or maybe I’m just sad enough for the both of us. There are so many times I have wanted to call him; to vent to him and have him tell me that its okay. There are times when I miss him so much my body physically aches. There have been so many moments over the last 9 months I’ve wanted to share, that I know he would be the one person who would appreciate it the most. He would be FLOORED by Lyla’s blonde hair and blue eyes. He would find Grady hilarious at this age.
It’s becoming more acceptable to admit that you don’t love every stage of your child’s life. The truth of the matter is that Mike and I are just not built for the baby stage. We would take a tantruming toddler over a helpless newborn any day of the week. Maybe that’s because we were blessed with two hard babies and would sing a different tune if we had an “easy” baby. There have been moments where I have felt sorry for myself, for us, and have resented other parents and their easy babies. I’ve been jealous of the parents who can just take their baby anywhere, the baby who is simply along for the ride. Obviously, it’s not their fault and it’s my own insecurity that makes me resentful.
But what matters is Lyla is overall a healthy baby, she is growing and she is growing out of her colic. And we are slowly resurfacing from the depths of this stage. Admittedly, our home has been a tough place to be some days. We have done our very best to keep things normal and consistent for Grady, but this has also become our new normal. Grady has handled the transition incredibly well, and honestly handles her crying better than anyone else in our house. He is extremely gentle with her, engages her, and from day 1 has integrated her into our family. He has made my heart soar and I have fallen more in love with him and appreciated him more than ever during this time.
What I came here to write isn’t just to share about the hell we’ve been through. Obviously I think it’s important to share our experience, as so many parents go through reflux and colic, and many put on brave faces and toughen up. We can feel so alone when things are so hard, especially in motherhood, because we don’t want to appear weak, ungrateful, or that we don’t love our children. Years ago, I made a promise to myself to live a more authentic life. I refuse to hide behind doors of making things appear a certain way when they are not. Life is uncomfortable and hard. It’s important we share those moments and experiences as much as the happy and smooth times, too.
So if you made it this far, thank you for reading about our journey. It has been an incredibly long road for us. And while we’re not out of the woods just yet, we are on a brighter and more hopeful path.
She was born Golden 