Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Dear Manly,

We had a rough start, you and I.

I lay in the hospital bed. My body tensing with each contraction. My mind teeming with trepidation. I was not prepared. I had anticipated a few more weeks before facing the reality of a life with two babies. I had expected to have someone at hand to take care of your sister, the Queen. I had planned on a week in which your father did not have a tough exam.

You had other plans. Maybe you were getting to cramped in my cozy womb. Or, perhaps, you wanted to meet your aunt A. Whatever the reason, you came.

Your daddy held my hand as my body prepared to birth you. The doctor informed me I could push. You were ready. I was ready.

Out you came, into my waiting arms. I looked at you. I stared at your beautiful face. I counted all your fingers and toes. I cried. My fears subsided. I held you close. I whispered, "Hi, Manly. I am your mom. I am so glad you are here."

We came home from the hospital. You met your sister. She didn't know what to think of you, at first. Quickly, she warmed up to your presence. She kissed you when you cried. Poked your eyes. Snuggled with you on the couch.

A month has passed. The first few weeks were like a pleasant dream. You slept well. You ate well. You snuggled and loved your mum.

Until now. Colic has entered uninvited. He has consumed your cute, chubby, face. He has tormented your sleep (and mine). He has made you cry.

I do not like Colic. Anything that makes you sad, makes me sad too. I want to push Colic away, but he is adamant at staying. He demands I give up milk and spicy foods on the empty promise of leaving. He distorts your face into pain filled grimaces. He wakes you up at night and does not allow you to return to Sleep's blissful arms. When you do sleep, you sleep fretfully.

I am worn and exhausted.

Late at night I wonder how I can help you. If I am providing enough nourishment for you. If I am giving you enough love. I wonder if you love me.

Then, you smile. You rest your head on my chest. Our hearts sing a song, your song. I pick up the tune. The words wrap themselves around us. The frustration and sorrow disappear.

Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better,

Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,

I know right now it is rough. Your tummy hurts. I give you drops that advertise comfort. Sometimes they work, most times they don't. It doesn't matter because, Manly I will hold you and comfort you. I will love you. Forever.



  1. Colic can be miserable--for everyone. Hang in there. I don't know if you can get Gripe Water in Utah, but I know lots of people who think it provides great relief.

  2. Poor Manly! Poor Ambrosia! Miss D. had colic and GOD, it was a miserable time.

    You'll hear a million suggestions...put them on a running clothes dryer, run the vaccuum, wear them in a Baby Bjorn, etc. I've heard good things about gripe water, like Yvonne suggested.

    Alas, nothing worked for Miss D. except for time. I'm hoping things are easier for you.

  3. Grace had colic. It was awful, awful, beyond words. It was dark and someone was screaming and crying all the time. Based on the timing of this I imagine Manly was born around the same time as G - so it's dark and the days are not going to lengthen any time soon and ... wow.
    But good for you for being able to hear that song of his in your heart. It will be over, I promise, but I also know how incredibly had that is to know right this minute.
    I'm thinking about you.

  4. My son had a difficult babyhood with sleep and crying being the main issue. I didn't notice it easing up when it actually happened. What happened was that I looked back and I noticed that it had gotten better so gradually that I hadn't noticed it happening until life was better, and then things were good. This will happen for you too.

  5. How wonderful for you to take the time from your unrelenting responsibilities to pen such a wonderful note to your sweet babe. There is love and longing to help palpable in these words. I think you (and he) will look back on this lovely letter many times over the years. What a gift.

  6. Hang in. Laugh when you can. Cry when you feel like it. Sleep when he lets you. It's pretty awful. (And see if you can get someone - a family member - to somehow give you a break. Even one night.) Just a thought.

  7. Colic is miserable; my heart goes out to you both! But how great that you can still hear the music, still find the beautiful moments in the midst of the craziness. Hang in there - it WILL get better!

  8. Ugh...that can really wear on you. Keep finding those smiles!

    And sleep whenever possible!

  9. I am so grateful I never had to deal with colic. There is a very special Mommy Heaven for those who do.

    Big hugs.

  10. i didn't have too bad of a time with colic, BUT i did have two babies a year apart. it's hard, but you are doing a great job (even on the days when you don't think you are).

    hang in there; mine are now 2 and 1. it's not "easy" but it's definitely "easier."

  11. Sweet friend, I'm thinking of you and wishing you a peaceful night.


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