Amy’s Story: Then and Now

I don’t think I can just sit here and write an overview of what those first several months were like.

Because I don’t think there are words that can accurately articulate the day to day torment. And while I know other people have been there, I still wonder if it is possible for another to have felt such an intensity of emotions for such an extended period of time.

Plain and simple: I hated everything about being a mother.

I vividly remember standing in my sister’s kitchen on my first Mother’s Day as my sister handed me a card. Greta was six months old. The “magic” six month mark. And no relief was in sight.

I desperately scanned the horizon for the easy, laid back, lovable baby that I needed. I fixated on my breast milk–certain that there was something that caused her to be “this way.”

Something HAD to cause this fussiness. Because if something caused it, I could fix it. I clung on to this belief for months. And months. This belief allowed me to survive the never ending days with a cranky, fussy, irritable, difficult baby.

I opened the card from my sister, a mother of two. “Isn’t it incredible how your kid can drive you so crazy, but you still love them so much?.” I just stared at the card. Because I didn’t know if it was incredible. Because I didn’t feel that way. I knew that I was “supposed” to understand what my sister was saying. And I knew that I didn’t.

And while perhaps it had become marginally easier, it was by no means enjoyable. I was trapped. Completely trapped.

While my visions of digging a hole and hiding myself away from the world had faded. And I was no longer contemplating leaving my husband and daughter–believing their world would be better without me. It (and by “it” I mean motherhood) was still nothing close to enjoyable. At all.

And apparently I was the only one in the world who felt that way. It was a dark secret that I carried with me. A secret that drove me to feeling isolated.

And alone.

Just me and this screaming baby.

I wish there was an easy way to connect Then to Now. I guess it is best to think of it as crossing a very, very, VERY long bridge. And when you reach the other side and turn around to view the journey you just took, well, suddenly the bridge doesn’t look that long after all.

And what exactly is on the other side of the bridge? It is that desperate love. The love that forms a pit in your belly and brings tears to your eyes by simply thinking of your child. The love that doesn’t even allow you to contemplate a life without this precious gift.

The love that I thought I would never understand.

I normally tell funny stories about Greta. Stories that make my friends and family laugh. Because there is a lot of laughter that goes along with raising a fussy/spirited/high need child.

But today I thought I would tell a story that someone else might connect to…and to reassure that person that there is a bridge. That you are crossing (though you may feel like you aren’t even moving most days).

And you will arrive at the other side.

I know it.

When do high need babies get easier? What strategies ACTUALLY work to help soothe them? How do I parent such a sensitive, intense child? I answer all these questions and more in my eBook, The Fussy Baby Survival Guide. 

Check it out now!

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.

Photo credit: luigi diamanti