Is it Colic???

When Connor was a baby he cried constantly. Cried isn't even the word. He screamed. Face red, mouth wide open, piercing screams. Nonstop.

We tried everything: music, no music, noise machines, pacifiers, bouncy seats, vibrating seats, burping him, patting his back, rocking him, swaying with him, swaddling him. I read books about fussy babies, looking for the solution I was somehow missing. What I learned was that demanding babies (that's putting it nicely) often grow up to be demanding children (great...).

The only time he wasn't screaming is when I was holding him. So I held him all the time. I slept with him. I napped with him (the only way I ever got the boy to nap was if I was lying next to him forcing a boob in his mouth). I carried him. I bought a Baby Bjorn and used it all the time. I was like a kangaroo. A stressed-out, sleep-deprived, frustrated kangaroo.

I can't tell you how many times I heard: "He's like this because you hold him all the time."

"No, he's just like this," I'd reply. "Holding him is the only thing that makes him not cry."

"Well, if you'd put him down, he'd get used to it. Besides, you're spoiling him."

Aaaggghhh.

But I'd question myself. Maybe I am spoiling him. Maybe I am doing something wrong. Maybe I should let him cry it out.

I actually tried that once. I fed him, burped him, changed him, cuddled him, and then laid him in his crib (aka The Pit of Fire). He immediately started whimpering. I patted his back.

"You need a nap. Mommy's going to leave you here, and let you have a nap. I'll come get you as soon as your nap is over."

And I left the room.

Screaming immediately ensued. It continued for a full twenty minutes while I sat in the next room, staring at the wall and losing my mind:

I should go get him.

No, I shouldn't--how will he learn if I always pick him up?

But listen to him--he's going to be scarred for life.

No he's not. I'm just too much of a softie.

But he's screaming. He doesn't understand. He's just a little baby.

No, he's spoiled. He knows exactly what he's doing.

And on and on and on until I finally picked him up. That was the last time we tried that little experiment. From that point forward I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to just have to hold him.

Connor did outgrow the crying (sort of). Now he's a well-adjusted, secure, precocious three-year old. And yes, he's spoiled.