temperament

Sometimes in life there are things we cannot control.

We cannot control the weather, for example, but we can control our preparation for rain or snow.

Fussy and high-needs babies are out of our control.  There may be some theories as to what can lead to a colicky or a fussy baby but, in all honesty, we do not truly know who will be destined to have the nursing all night, screaming, never-sleeping child.

It is hard coming to terms with the fact that our child’s temperament may be out of our control, that he or she has nothing biologically or physically wrong, that they are just “fussy”.

Sometimes we have to let go of our expectations and predictions and just be glad we survived the day.

We need to be proud of ourselves that we are parenting a fussy baby and that we are doing the best that we can.

There will always be those times when we have absolutely no idea what to do, how to calm a fussy baby, or how to handle a day of temper tantrums from a high-needs toddler. This is the time when it is okay, it is healthy, to admit defeat.

We cannot control every minute of every day.

I had a really hard time accepting that Tyler’s persistent personality was just that: persistent.

He is a beautiful, healthy, thriving boy, and yet I was so convinced something had to be wrong, he had to have some hidden ailment.

I had to have some control, some medication or some solution to this fussiness.

I still have many days when I have no clue what to do, or how to handle the situation, but with each challenge, comes a learning experience.

I had to accept that Tyler wouldn’t just magically stop fussing at the 12 week mark, or the 15 week mark, or the 30 week mark.

I remember having him sleep on me (the only place he would sleep) and have nothing better to do than “Google” EVERYTHING.

So one week I was sure he had “fore milk-hind milk imbalance”, the next week it must be gas, so let’s try gas drops, gas tablets, gripe water, etc.

I thought he had an ear infection at least three different times and we would take him to the doctors, only to be told that he was “just fine”.

After the colic didn’t improve, they diagnosed him with acid reflux, and the Zantac helped.

When he was about 4 months old, he started the Zantac and he was actually able to play on his back on the floor for more than 20 seconds. This was a huge improvement.

My theory is that an already high-needs, sensitive baby is going to be bothered by acid reflux more so than a “normal” baby.

Finally, after one too many trips to the ER, we received a letter from Tyler’s insurance company, reminding us that in fact the ER was for emergencies. That letter went in the baby book.

With each milestone he reaches, I truly do see some improvement.

I think back to the long days and nights of having to hold him nonstop, and then I find myself actually being able to go to the bathroom while he sits playing with his toys. Before I would have had to bring him and his bouncy sit with me.

I see a happier boy that I never thought would emerge.

I find it helps to learn what environments set him off and avoid them if at all possible.

He has a certain look that tells me, “hey mom, I am really not comfortable and you have about one millisecond to help me or I am going to scream”.

I am still learning what sets him off, but preparing for his fussiness helps me feel better. I always bring two pacifiers everywhere we go, sometimes three.

His temperament is out of my control, but whether I react negatively or positively is in my control.

I definitely still have quite a few days a week where I don’t think we will ever get past his neediness, and then he will have a random “good” day and I just cherish every moment.

Having a fussy baby is so hard, I could have never prepared for anything like this. However, I am in the midst of it, and Tyler lets me know what he needs (loudly and clearly).

I have to let go of the control sometimes and just enjoy the ride, as this too shall pass, and we will never get these moments back.

Nichelle is a stay at home mom, finishing her degree online in social science with an emphasis on early childhood education. She enjoy gardening and cooking, and reaching out to offer support and encouragement to families of fussy babies in her community.

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I find it somewhat therapeutic to revisit some of the horrific memories from the past 7 months.

Adjusting to mommyhood was tough for me and on top of that, Greta was/is not an “easy” baby.

Yes, I understand that all babies require tons and tons of attention. And I understand that first time moms go through a huge adjustment period.

But I also came to understand that Greta cried, a lot. More than the typical baby. And it sucked. Greta would cry and fuss for hours out of the day. The majority of her awake time was spent fussing or screaming.

I remember when she was probably a month old being at my parents’ house, my dad was walking her around the house showing her different things. I called my husband, Russ, ecstatic, “Greta has been awake for 30 minutes without crying.” It was that unusual.

I could not take her out anywhere for the first 6 weeks. It wasn’t just that she would start screaming, it was that she would KEEP screaming. No one could stop her.

Seriously. She would go for at least an hour straight with no pause (and good lord, I know that there are colicky babies who go for hours and hours. God bless those parents, and those poor babies).

I had people tell me to ignore the crying. “Babies cry. Do what you normally would do.” I tried to heed this advice.

I remember taking Greta for a walk. She started crying after 5 minutes, per usual, but this day I decided to walk through it. Because everyone seemed to think that either A. She would stop crying or B. I would enjoy the walk despite the screams.

Well, neither happened. She screamed for 40 minutes straight. And there is NOTHING relaxing about walking with a screaming baby.

I think most people thought I exaggerated her fussiness. There are a few people who were able to witness her crying jags. But most other people saw a “typical” baby when they were hanging out with us. I think a different environment or different faces kept her distracted or entertained for brief periods of time.

When I read the definition that Dr. Weissbluth describes for colicky/extremely fussy babies, I turned to my husband Russ and said, “THAT IS GRETA!” The fact that such a definition exists made me feel a little better–there had to be other parents out there struggling then.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know/don’t know any of these parents. Well, that is a lie. I know one set of parents–my parents.

Apparently I was an extremely fussy baby. Go figure. So I had my mom, and a slew of other people who did not seem to believe me when I told them that Greta was pretty tough. Who knows, maybe I’m making that up. But I do know that I felt like no one understood. At all.

Now that Greta is close to 7 months old, life is dramatically better for all of us. I can bring Greta into stores without thinking twice. The other day I realized I actually pumped gas with Greta in the car and she didn’t start screaming.

We have actually been places with Greta for more than an hour without having to leave (for months, Greta needed to sleep pretty much after an hour or less of being awake–and this baby only naps in her swing during the day. Trust me, we have tried all other options.).

Greta’s awake time is often times filled with smiles and laughter. She is still a pretty high maintenance baby, but I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

She has character, and keeps us on our toes. No reverting to the same old same old with Greta around!

For months we tried to figure out if there was a cause for her fussiness to no avail and we will never know why she was so fussy.

Her pediatrician is pretty sure that she is a very sensitive baby, who was colicky.

I wouldn’t wish an extremely fussy/colicky baby on anyone. But I know that someday my path will cross with a mom who is losing her mind because she has such a baby, and has no one in her life who really understands, and I will be there for that mom.

I should also note that I realize how lucky I am to have a healthy baby. I do not take that for granted, but in all honesty, when I am stressed, anxious and generally not in the best frame of mind, it doesn’t seem to lessen any of these emotions to tell myself, “at least I have a healthy baby.”

I am glad that things have settled down enough that I can fully appreciate the gift that I have been given. Okay, so maybe there are still days that I don’t exactly see it as a “gift” but every single day there are at least moments that I do.

And I love that baby girl more than I ever thought possible, because, no lie, I didn’t know if I was ever going to reach that feeling with Greta. And that was really scary.

If you are a mom who was blessed with that feeling from the moment you laid eyes on your little one and never wavered with that love, you are fortunate. But just remember, it doesn’t work that way for everyone. And that is okay. I really believe that.

Amy lives in New England with her husband Russell and their adorable three year old daughter Greta. Amy works as a middle school teacher and is amazed at the parallels between adolescents and toddlers. She maintains her sanity by running, baking, and laughing.

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It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

Emily had a stomach bug, then Chloe had a stomach bug which turned into a cold, which turned into some other flu-like virus.

Then Emily got the flu-like virus, and now Julie has it. And throughout all of this, the lack of sleep, the vomiting in the middle of the night, the crankiness, the tantrums, life must go on. We still need to work. We still need groceries. The floor can only get so “crunchy” before we have to break down and sweep it, and only so sticky before we have to mop it.

This is the picture of life with kids that nobody really wants to hear about…especially people still contemplating kids. To my childless siblings, the horror of these moments petrifies them. I can see it in their eyes.

Remember those commercials, “this is your brain on drugs.”? Well, there are times when your brain on kids isn’t much better, and neither is your strung out life. It’s not the idea people have in mind when they say to themselves, “gee, wouldn’t it be nice to have children.”

And “gee, wouldn’t it be nice” partly sums up the problem of our modern world. There was a time when having children was a duty – an obligation to the species, our culture, and our people, not to mention to God. Now it’s seen as a nice to have – a “hmm, what’s missing in our lives?”

People often buy puppies for the same reason, to fill a void somewhere. Except unlike new furniture, a remodelled kitchen, that class on Art you always wanted to take, or even a puppy, with kids you get more than you bargained for – and you can’t quit or take them back.

Chloe hit a low point a few nights ago. She was utterly exhausted from being up night after night coughing or throwing up, or with a fever. And when Chloe’s really tired, she loses her ability to cope with not getting what she wants and reverts back to many of the uncontrollable outbursts and crying she had when she was a little colicky baby.

She had decided that Mommy was putting her pyjamas on – except Mommy wasn’t available. And so I tried to talk to her, to reason with her. But she screamed at me, kicked her legs on the floor, and cried uncontrollably. Believe it or not, she was actually on the mend. But when she’s really tired, she just can’t deal.

Eventually I had no choice but to pull a trick we had used back when she was two. I stopped answering her, stopped trying to reason with her – stopped talking to her. Each time she came out of her room screaming her head off (and keeping Emily awake), I just picked her up as calmly as I could and put her back on her bed.

At first this made her angrier, and she screamed in fury. But we repeated the exercise over and over again. At one point, I was feeling pretty low. I wanted to give in. I wanted to get her Mom. It would have been easier, but it probably wouldn’t have worked (she’d have pulled the same thing on us over something else – we know Chloe).

I just wanted to throw in the towel. We hadn’t asked for this. We wanted a nice sweet child – a couple of nice sweet children. I longed to be able to sit in a nice comfy chair and read a book in the evening, like I used to. I longed to get up in the morning on my own terms and sip a cup of hot coffee, like I used to. I wanted to feel like I could go back to school in the evening and learn something new….But I couldn’t imagine my life without these beautiful, sensitive girls.

They give me so much, but ask so much in return.

I thought these things as I stood there waiting for Chloe to make another dramatic appearance, and then I realized this wasn’t about what I wanted. I had decided to have children. And I loved them dearly. That I had gotten more than I bargained for was rather beside the point, as I wouldn’t change the decision for the world.

This was about who I was. I was being a father right then and there. I was doing my job, my duty (and generally I think I was doing a pretty good job of it). For all my pouting I realized a truth that night, as I’ve realized time and again as a parent:

Life isn’t about what’s convenient, what’s easy, what makes you feel good.

If it were, we’d have made very few advances as a species. It’s about accepting challenges, testing ones limits, learning through adversity, and passing on lessons and values to those who will survive us.

Sean Sutton lives in Ottawa, Canada with his wife and two children, Chloe and Emily. He spent much of this year on paternity leave following Emily’s birth and started a blog to document his experience.

Photo Credit: Lilgoldwmn

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For Chloe, the world has no off switch and no tuner.

In my last post I talked about perceptiveness. It’s one of the most impressive traits of a spirited child. They don’t miss anything, and it can be a wonder to watch.

But the flip side of seeing everything is being overwhelmed by it all, and a number of doctors / researchers have commented on this trait (see, for example, The Happiest Baby on the Block, by Dr. Harvey Karp).

They believe that colic is caused primarily by a child’s inability to tune out the world around them. Baby takes in everything, makes connections all over the place, and before you know it, overheats, looses it, and screams bloody murder.

Their ability to observe and to perceive at that age is impressive, but their ability to have a complete meltdown and throw a whole home in crisis… well, that’s impressive too.

Chloe’s always going to be easily overwhelmed. It’s in her nature. The good news is that she’ll learn to cope. And we are two very proud parents when we see daily how Chloe has adapted to her environment already. Here are just a couple of examples:

First time skating – Since last winter Chloe has wanted to learn to play hockey. She’s been obsessed with it ever since she saw kids at the park passing the puck (it had nothing to do with me – I don’t even watch hockey).

Well, we told Chloe that in order to play hockey she’d have to learn to skate. This was fine with her until she discovered that parents weren’t allowed on the ice during lessons. Chloe had always refused to be left at activities by herself.

But for skating, she was willing to give it a try. This lasted until her first fall, after which she begged to go.

Daddy: “Chloe, you can do this. You want to do this. You want to play hockey.”

Chloe: “I can’t Daddy. I fall down. I’m no good at skating. I want to go home.”

(By the way, fear of failure and a drive for perfection are common traits for spirited children).

Daddy: “Chloe, falling is normal. You won’t hurt yourself. I promise.” (I know, big gamble). “Just go out there and know you’re going to fall. And each time you fall, just laugh and get back up. You can do this Chloe. I know you can.”

Chloe: “O.K.”

Well, Julie and I had the best time watching Chloe the rest of the lesson. Every time she fell, she’d start laughing her head off – and it was the fakest laugh in the world (picture Chandler smiling). The instructors must have thought she was nuts. But it worked. She found a way to deal with her intense emotions.

Skating on a big rink full of lots of new people was a huge step forward for her.

Christmas 2011 – Our Christmases are not quiet events (whose are) and it’s a lot for Chloe to take. She finds the noise alone unbearable. She can’t seem to tune it out.

So before long, with a house full of people, Chloe was asking us to go home.

“Mummy,” she’d say, “it’s too loud. Can we go home to our house?”

At these moments Julie would take Chloe to another room so she could calm down and regain her composure. It’s not that she wasn’t having fun. It was actually too much fun.

She couldn’t decompress with so many people around. She needed an escape.

Julie told her, “Chloe it’s fun to be with other people, but there are a lot of people and it’s o.k. if you find it too much sometimes. When you find it too much, just go to a quiet place for a little while.”

Well, before long one of us would ask, “Where’s Chloe?” only to find that Chloe had taken a break in a room by herself. She had learned that this was a good coping skill and she used it whenever she felt like she’d had enough.

Talk about mature! How many three year olds know how to find tranquility when they’re overwhelmed?

Of course these are just a couple of many hundreds of examples – some big, some too small to describe, of Chloe learning to cope with the situations in which she finds herself.

She’s passionate, social, creative… I could go on. But she’s also quite introverted. She needs to be able to sooth herself when she’s over-stimulated, and sometimes we still need to help sooth her, just as we did when she was a colicky baby and during her difficult toddler moments.

But more and more, she’s handling it herself. As a result, the meltdowns are fewer and far between, and most of the time we have Chloe at her best, which is a special experience.

If you have a colicky baby and you haven’t checked out Karp’s book, I highly recommend it. The 5 S’s may just have saved our sanity.

Sean Sutton lives in Ottawa, Canada with his wife and two children, Chloe and Emily. He spent much of this year on paternity leave following Emily’s birth and started a blog to document his experience.

Photo Credits: David Castillo Dominici

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In 2008, my husband and I received into the world what would be a compendium of baby experiences to test our patience and our marriage.

Kayah was born in May, 2008, in all of her red-headed screaming glory. We felt blessed – The first days appeared to bring us enough joy that neither of us could sleep. Or, so we thought.

She was a cluster-feeding fussy little one, her poops were green, she was gassy…we had kind of figured out ways to justify what was happening.

My nipples were quite raw from the cluster-feeding and we were reasoning that maybe she needed to feed longer on each side, maybe it was what I was eating, and that maybe we just weren’t going to sleep for some time.

It seemed like all we were doing was rocking, bouncing, driving, swinging, and basically keeping our child in motion. For weeks. Everyone was asking us if she was “a good baby“, if she “slept through the night”- All of the cliche questions that a parent gets in the first few weeks.

I’m sure the dark circles under our eyes told a million stories.

We probably wore a path between the living room and the bedroom doing the circuit every day, several times per day. It was nice to know that I had an entire year off of work – But I’m pretty sure I would have taken the job over the baby at any point over that year.

We. were. tired.

We were grumpy.

We wanted answers.

Well, I wanted answers. I am part of the revolution of mommy-researchers. The army of women turning to the internet – chat rooms, forums, websites, products, and basically anything that claimed some sort of answer and one-size-fits all solution for our screaming bundle.

Labels made it easy to explain what was happening. Being fussy was one thing – but when people would ask if it was colic it definitely worked to just answer “yes”.

All of our appointments with health care professionals gained us the same answer -

“Mrs. P, you have a happy, healthy baby girl. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up!“.

She was growing. The green poops eventually worked themselves out, the gas was worked out with leg pumps, bum taps, and bouncing. Our baby was growing, thriving in fact. She rolled over with gusto at 8 weeks, she crawled very quickly as well. We were dealing with a climbing and almost walking baby at 7 months.

The needs for attachment and the “fussy” child really didn’t ever leave. I started to turn my thoughts from digestion to high-needs. Our baby had quite a bit of attachment anxiety. We couldn’t leave her for very long through that phase, strangers would trigger some pretty rank crying episodes.

We learned to just keep on truckin’ when the episodes hit at the grocery store, while driving, and at family events.

Kayah is just Kayah. We still have troubles with sleep and with fussiness times. She was happily breastfed until she was three years old.

Her little brother Jonas arrived in June 2011 and is taking us on a new journey of fuss (although, I will say with baited breath that we only have yet to experience day time fuss and a few hours of sleep in the night).

Having a high need preschooler and a fussy baby, however, is a whole other experience. I’ve learned to safely bring my screaming baby into the bathroom while bathing Kayah and I.

I’ve had to purchase quick snack foods for myself and for Kayah so that we both get to eat. We lovingly babywear Jonas as well as Kayah as needed. Just a few weeks ago we moved Kayah to her own bed, which isn’t going well but since adding a king size bed it makes the bed sharing less painful usually (when it’s needed – because, lets face it… parents of high need children deserve to sleep in style after losing two years of meaningful sleep).

We have survived – I will attribute it to a few nights away donated by grandparents (which is how Jonas arrived, ha ha), making it a priority to have our own projects away from children, some wonderful friends, and the support when we needed it.

Many people had the “solution”, and in the end we had to ride it out with much frustration. There was no miracle product, although being able to wear our children with our mei tie and ring sling made it possible to get out.

Breastfeeding did help, and being able to feed and soothe the baby while we were out of the house was helpful. We are learning now that playgrounds are our friend. I can wear Jonas and let Kayah go – we pack good snacks and plenty of water and we’re able to spend a few hours out of the house. I’m nursing the baby anyway, why not do it somewhere outside, enjoy the weather, and commiserate with other mommies?

I also created a local network of moms who were learning to wear their babies, and in that process met and have been mentoring and supporting others with fussy babies and with healthy and happy babies. We are currently trying to use probiotics to see if it helps Jonas with his tummy troubles (so far we’ve had two excellent days in a row!).

I keep my friends who are in the birth industry close by, as well – it is handy to have lactation experts close by.

They aren’t the best children, but they are my children.

They are beautiful in their own ways.

And, the marriage thing… going strong! I keep wondering how it works, but I think we’re both invested in the kids and we keep each other in check.

Rhonda Young-Pilon, RN, BScN
Momma to Tai Lin and Kaya Lily
Wife to Jeremy

Photo Credits: Nutdanai Apikhomboonwaroot | Stuart Miles

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As I mentioned in a previous post, fussy babies often make for amazing children. Don’t take my word for it. If you look at the literature out there, you’ll see that you’re in for a real treat. But don’t go supposing amazing means easy.

Forgive me for saying, but I liken a spirited child to a smart dog.

Yes that Border Colly will delight you alright with his amazing intelligence, but unlike the dummer breeds, he’s going to drive you absolutely mad with his intense energy and need for stimulation.

I know, because we have a Portuguese Water Dog. We should have bought a Bulldog.

But I digress.

One of the amazing personality traights of a formerly fussy baby (i.e. spirited child) is their acute awareness and perceptiveness. At three, Chloe is so perceptive that we have to be very careful what we say around her. She knows when what we say doesn’t jive with what she knows, so we can’t lie to her.

She’s acutely aware of when anyone says anything critical about her. And she understands what seem to us to be relatively complex concepts – like life and death.

One day, for example, I decided that it would be a good idea to be honest with her about where some of her relatives have gone. She asked, so I said:

“They died honey. We all live and we all die at some point. We don’t live forever.”

She broke down in tears and said,

“But that means I’m going to die too. I don’t want to die.”

In one move I had just gotten my 3 year old child thinking about her own mortality. Way to cut short her innocence Dad! I had no idea she would make the connection to her own life that easily. Kids aren’t supposed to be concerned about dying, right?

But connections are what perceptive children are all about. It’s not the noticing that matters – although that helps. It’s making the connections to everything else they know that makes them perceptive. Which leads me to yesterday.

Chloe was at her skating lessons with Mommy and, it being close to Christmas, Santa made a surprise appearance. Except, this wasn’t the Santa she was used to seeing. He had, as Chloe put it “dark cheeks.”

“Mommy,” she said, “Why does Santa have dark cheeks?”

She was the only one staring at Santa, giving him an uncomfortable look. The other children didn’t seem to pay any attention.

Julie, caught off guard and not knowing what to say, just said she wasn’t sure and quickly distracted her.

I didn’t know any of this little story when I put Chloe to bed that night. I asked her about her skating lessons, and she told me that Santa had come to visit, but that he had had dark cheeks.

“Really?” I said. “Well that’s nice.”

“But Daddy,” Chloe said, “it couldn’t have been Santa if he had dark cheeks. I’ve already met Santa and he didn’t have dark cheeks….”

Then there was a pause (where I didn’t have a clue what to say) and Chloe went on,

“There must be more than one Santa. There must be lots of Santas.”

My cue: “Chloe, I think it’s just that sometimes Santa has helpers because he can’t do it all by himself. This must have been one of his helpers.”

“Oh,” said Chloe, looking only semi convinced.

Meanwhile I’m thinking, great, I just made Santa’s helper the visible minority – how white of me!

Julie and I have resigned ourselves to accepting that when it comes to Santa and Christmas, Chloe’s not going to be one of those kids who still believes at 10 years old. I think we’ll be lucky if she makes it to 5. She’s just too quick at adding 2 and 2 together. She likes to know how everything fits so her world makes sense.

And as colour blind as we all pretend to be, let’s face it, we’d know if our biggest hero just up and changed colour one day.

Merry Christmas everyone!

If you have your own stories about your child’s spirited personality I’d love to hear them, and so would others on the blog, I’m sure. As parents of fussy babies, we could all use to hear a few anecdotes from time to time.

Sean Sutton lives in Ottawa, Canada with his wife and two children, Chloe and Emily. He spent much of this year on paternity leave following Emily’s birth and started a blog to document his experience.

Photo Credits: Luigi Diamante | Ashley Cox

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I remember quite clearly a discussion I had with Julie before Chloe was born. We were talking about how we’d raise our kids – the attitudes we’d take, our style of parenting. I said to Julie:

“Don’t worry. We’re not going to be like those uptight parents who plan everything out, fret over every little thing about their children. It wouldn’t be healthy for them or us. We’re just going to keep doing all the exciting stuff we do now, but bring them along for the ride. That’s how they’ll learn… by experiencing life with us.”

I know… yes, I really said that. I’m almost embarrassed at how naive I was and at how poorly I had judged others.

I looked at certain friends of ours who were having difficulty with their first children, and while I empathised to an extent, I also thought, get a grip!

These friends recently turned parents seemed to be always fretting over nap schedules, feedings and crying so much that visiting seemed next to impossible. Right in mid-sentence, the conversation would be cut off over some little thing the baby needed. To non-parents like Julie and me, it seemed as though they were obsessed and had lost all sense of balance.

Now I know they were actually trying to keep a very delicate balance and preserve whatever sanity they had left.

I wrote in an earlier post that going through colic and sleep problems with a baby is traumatic – so much so that it leaves scars. But nobody who hasn’t been through it gets that. Not even family and closest friends understand that if you’re holding on with a tight grip, it’s because you’re just keeping it together and that at any moment it could all fall apart.

But we were aware of how crazy we must have seemed to others. To say we were demanding would have been an understatement – still is an understatement.

Last Christmas, we insisted on having three rooms – one for Chloe, one for Emily, and one for us, when we visited family. It might seem crazy, but we would have rather turned around and driven 3, 4 or 5 hours home than do it any other way.

If Chloe and Emily are in the same room, neither of them sleeps. If Emily is in the same room with us, Julie doesn’t sleep because she’s listening for every possible noise Emily might make. And if Chloe sleeps with us she doesn’t sleep because she can only ever seem to sleep on her own, which means we don’t sleep. It’s torture and we avoid it. But you should see me trying to explain to my 3 childless siblings why we need to hog 3 rooms at Christmas. 

Sibling: “Come on man. I don’t sleep well when I’m not in a bed.”

Me: “Well I don’t sleep well ever. You can handle it for one night.”

We practice a form of tyranny when we’re the parents of a fussy baby. We might as well say, “play the game my way or I’m picking up my ball and going home.”

We give strict instructions to grandparents on when and how to put baby down for a nap, and if they don’t follow those instructions exactly, we get angry. Why? Because baby didn’t nap as long as he should have and now he’s going to be up crying at night. But they don’t get that. They’re just trying to help.

We’re tyrants out of necessity, but we don’t like it anymore than we like any of the other challenges of a fussy baby. We don’t like that we seem crazy and inflexible to the people around us. It only adds to our anxiety and stress.

I’ve often wondered,

“Do they think it’s us? Do they think we’re partly to blame for our children being so fussy, temperamental, and inflexible – because we can’t chill out?”

I can’t remember how many people told us about how they used to take their babies anywhere, even to parties.

“Oh we’d just take them along to the party with us, and the youngest, well I’d just rock her to sleep under the table with my foot while we kept on visiting. She’d sleep anywhere.”

These people had lived the dream I’d intended when boasting to Julie about how we’d raise our kids. And had we wound up with accommodating babies like the ones they’d had, we’d have thought that parents of fussy babies were just uptight too.

But we’ve been there and know better.

Sean Sutton lives in Ottawa, Canada with his wife and two children, Chloe and Emily. He spent much of this year on paternity leave following Emily’s birth and started a blog to document his experience.

*Photo Credits: Stuart Miles |  David Castillo Dominici

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This past weekend was all about sick kids.

Thursday night Emily came down with a gastro and Chloe followed suit the next morning. Emily’s also on an antibiotic for a chest infection, Chloe’s on one for a urinary tract infection, and both girls have got sore throats (are we having fun yet?).

But if there’s a silver lining to our children being sick (and it’s admittedly a small one), it’s that it’s the only time we get to see Chloe calm, even relaxed. Of course she can’t be too sick (or she becomes a complete mess) but just enough to slow her down a bit.

Suddenly, instead of never being able to stop moving and squirming, she lies still on the couch. Instead of moving from one subject of conversation to another, easily distracted by everything going on around her, she talks to us calmly and wants up for cuddles. She’s more measured and reflective in her thinking and speaking, and often less rigid – more agreeable to changes and transitions. And best of all, our little tornado sleeps a bit better. In short, she becomes a very different little girl.

Chloe is a restless child. She always has been. She takes in everything around her – all the static, and doesn’t miss a beat. She’s super sensitive, has difficulty filtering, and for this reason is always on overdrive and has difficulty focusing. She has an uncanny memory for little details that others might dismiss (the colour of the nightgown Mommy wore the day Emily was born, for example), but difficulty paying attention when listening to instructions or an explanation.

For those of you who have intense children, like Chloe, I highly recommend a book entitled, Raising Your Spirited Child, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka.

When Julie started reading it and recommended it to me, it was because it seemed to sum up so perfectly the type of personality we were encountering in our little girl.

The author starts out by explaining why she chose the word spirited to describe some children. She wasn’t happy with the words people had used to describe a child like hers: “difficult, strong-willed, stubborn…” She much preferred the definition provided for spirited: “lively, creative, keen, eager, full of energy and courage, and having a strong and assertive personality.”

That sums up many of my kid’s key traits, how about yours? And it emphasizes the true strengths of our children’s personality rather than labels born of our own frustrations.

Sheedy Kurcinka goes on to describe what she has discovered through her research to be the most common characteristics of a spirited child. Let me know whether you recognize any of them:

Intensity – “The loud, dramatic, spirited children are the easiest to spot. They don’t cry; they shriek.” They’re noisy when they play, when they laugh, and even when they take a shower…”

Persistence – “If an idea or an activity is important to them, spirited children can lock right in.”

Sensitivity – “Keenly aware, spirited kids quickly respond to the slightest noises, smells, lights, textures, or changes in mood. They are easily overwhelmed in crowds by the barrage of sensations.”

Perceptiveness – “Send them to their room to get dressed and they’ll never make it. Something along the way… will catch their attention as they walk by and they’ll forget about getting dressed.”

Adaptability – “Spirited children are uncomfortable with change. They hate surprises and do not shift easily from one activity or idea to another.”

Those are just some of the characteristics outlined in the book, and I’ve abbreviated the author’s descriptions substantially. But you get the picture. I think that a lot of parents of fussy babies will recognize these traits as their babies continue to grow and develop.

Raising Your Spirited Child gives a lot of good advice for how to manage the crazier moments at home, at daycare, and in public more easily and with less frustration. It also helps parents to see that while the characteristics they’re trying to manage come with frustrating behaviour, they are also what make their children beautiful and unique.

And if you’re parents of a fussy baby right now, all I can say is good luck and be patient. The good news: while the basic characteristics you’re experiencing don’t change, the children do adjust, adapt, and learn to cope. Chloe, for instance, will probably always be restless, but she’s learning all the time how to listen, how to focus, and how to follow through, even when she’s not sick.

Sean Sutton lives in Ottawa, Canada with his wife and two children, Chloe and Emily. He spent much of this year on paternity leave following Emily’s birth and started a blog to document his experience.

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For mothers and fathers who are trying to cope with a very colicky baby, the best thing you can do to lower your frustration and anxiety is to accept your child for who she is.

Sounds easy enough, right?

Who wouldn’t accept his own child for who she is?

Well, I can tell you that, to some extent, we didn’t. And if you ask yourself constantly why your fussy baby can’t just be like normal babies, then you’re not completely accepting your child for who she is either.

This isn’t surprising. An important part of why we want our babies to be “normal” is so that we can show everyone else around us that we’re good parents – better than good. Like everything else in our culture, parenting is partly about being successful in the eyes of others.

When it comes to parenting, our desire to conform to social expectations cannot be underestimated. But how can you be parent of the year (see, competitive title) when your child’s running you ragged and making you look like you’re out of control of your own life, not to mention his?

My advice?

Try to let go.

Let it all go. It’s hard enough raising a fussy baby – an intense child. The proof will be in the pudding, so to speak. And then let everyone judge, if we must. We know what we’re doing. We’re tuned into our children. They don’t give us a choice.

One of my worst moments as new parent of a colicky infant- and I can actually laugh about it now, was standing in the waiting lounge at the Ottawa airport, jiggling Chloe back and forth while she screamed blue murder.

There was a rocking chair, and I’d sit and rock her back and forth, then stand and rock her, and then sit again. She screamed like she had appendicitis, and the other people in the lounge just stared or looked at their feet uncomfortably.

They were thinking

1. “What is wrong with that Dad. The child’s obviously in pain”, and
2. “I pray to God I don’t have to sit near them on the plane.”

We were on our way to B.C. Chloe was 3 months old. We had a connection in Toronto. We almost called the trip off in Toronto.

But there was nothing wrong with Chloe. Chloe was just being herself. And that meant an extremely aware, extremely sensitive, extremely overwhelmed little girl. She lacked the coping skills to deal with what she was taking in. We were doing the right thing as parents to try to comfort her. It’s just that there’s only so much we could do. The rest Chloe had to figure out for herself.

One day at work, in the height of Chloe’s fussiness, a colleague of mine came up to talk to me. She had heard about Chloe’s colic (who hadn’t) and she told me how her daughter had also had colic.

I asked her, “and you got through it – the colic subsided?”

She hesitated. “Yes,” she said. “The colic went away, but whatever was behind her colic didn’t. It’s part of who she was, and it’s what’s made her who she is today – a kind, sensitive, insightful young woman.”

I never forgot what my colleague said to me that day, and how important it was to my outlook. It gave me hope. But more importantly, it let me see my child not as other, but as unique – a small but crucial distinction.

We had been looking at Chloe in the context of our own expectations and of everyone else’s. Instead, we needed simply to look at her. Once we started to accept that our baby wouldn’t often act the way we would have liked, that she tended to march to her own beat, daily life got a little bit easier. It’s the disappointed expectations that are hardest to take.

Now, at three years old, Chloe’s already demonstrating traits that make her parents proud. She’s emotional, yes, and still has trouble coping at times. But she’s also sensitive to others’ feelings, in tune with the needs of her family – especially her sister, and incredibly open and empathetic towards everyone she meets.

Her biggest faux-pas right now is hugging too much (especially the boys). But strangely, when she gives them, the hugs are accepted. It’s as if the other kids can sense the sincerity in them. And who doesn’t need a genuine hug from time to time?

As for coping, she’s learning new strategies every day, just like she did when she was three months old.

Sean Sutton lives in Ottawa, Canada with his wife and two children, Chloe and Emily. He spent much of this year on paternity leave following Emily’s birth and started a blog to document his experience.

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When Sam was 4 months old, I remember writing a blog post titled Just the Way He Is on my now-defunct blog. The magical 12-16 week mark had passed, and yet the crying and fussing continued.

We had been holding onto that marker as the research indicates that colicky behaviour ends or is significantly improved by this point (adjusted age for preemies). And while we no longer had the non-stop, all day crying and screaming, we were left with a fussy, particular, highly-sensitive little boy who needed constant entertainment, carrying, and was still very unpredictable.

It began to become clear to me that we were not dealing with ‘colic’, at least in the way I had understood it. I knew in my gut that the fussing and sensitivity were not going to magically vanish at month 5, 6, 7, etc.

For me, this came with a definite period of grieving. I had already had to grieve the loss of newborn cuddles, cooing, and pretty much any and all positive experiences with my son. And now to try to accept that perhaps this could be his….(I shuddered to think it)…his temperament??

I suggested to a mom this week that her baby’s fussiness may be related to his temperament*, and was met with some resistance. She believes that when a baby cries excessively it is because he or she is in pain and is trying to communicate that discomfort.

Before I had kids, I probably would have taken this view as well, at least to some extent. After having one fussy baby and one high need baby, I strongly believe that excessive crying does not always (or usually) indicate pain.

I do agree that the crying is a form of communication – The only way they have to tell us they need something. It just bothers me when people assume it indicates a medical condition and aren’t willing to explore other options. Options such as the normal infant-arriving-into-world adjustment period, chronic over-tiredness (which can make an already fussy baby even fussier), or even the baby’s temperament.

It’s natural to need to know exactly what’s wrong with our kids. When a baby cries, whether it’s all day or the textbook 3 hours, we have to rule out physical causes. What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t pursue this avenue?

In the same way, once a physical cause has been ruled out, should we continue to look for physical causes or is it acceptable or even necessary to explore other options? I have seen so many parents run themselves ragged trying to find solutions to a supposed physical ailment, that in all likelihood doesn’t exist.

And yet I know that as mothers, we have this primal need to know why, and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is nothing physically wrong with our babies.

I just think we would be better served if there was more education as to the red flags of infant crying. Crying alone does not usually indicate a medical issue.

Only in letting go of the need to know exactly why our baby is crying can we let go of the guilt, and start accepting that this may just be the way our baby is, at least for now. We must look for answers from medical professionals, certainly. In some cases, there is a physical cause. However once a medical issue has been ruled out, it’s time to focus on coping.

How or when did you come to terms with your baby’s temperament? Do you think it’s even possible to see a baby’s temperament as an infant, or does that come later in retrospect? Leave a comment below!

*I only make this suggestion to parents of infants over 3-4 months of age, once the typical pattern of ‘colic crying’ should, in theory, have ended. My completely non-expert opinion is that babies who don’t stop crying after 3-4 months often meet the traits of high need babies, who then later often meet the characteristics of spirited children.

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