I had a colicky baby, but I wasn't taken seriously

It's the fall of 2015

I think I'm holding a positive pregnancy test. Is that a line there? Or is it not? “Benjamin, take a look”. It's too vague. We're not getting any wiser from this. At Ben's insistence, I reluctantly take one of those ridiculously expensive tests that spells out pregnant or not in letters. And lo and behold, it's really there! Woohoo, we're going to be a dad and mom! For the following months, we live on a huge pink cloud. I go all out at the baby stores. I attend fairs, pregnancy swimming, a hilarious joint childbirth class, you name it. I was pretty much the textbook example of a happy pregnant woman.

This great happiness was seriously disrupted at the 20-week mark. The ultrasound turned out to be not good. Spots were found in the head of our son and something was not quite right with his abdomen. We were told not to worry too much. In four weeks, a new ultrasound would be made to see how everything had developed. Not to worry too much? Seriously?! How? Anyway, after the four most terrible weeks of our lives so far, we were told that the spots in his head were gone and his abdomen also seemed normal. But this can only be said with certainty after the birth. The pregnancy remains worrisome because of this.

It's Father's Day 2016

I wake up in the morning and think: "I think I'm getting my period". Such cramps. Soon I'm wide awake. Period? That's not possible at all! I think these are contractions! It's still very early, so I decide to let my boyfriend sleep and go downstairs. Half an hour later, I wake him up anyway. I'm so excited I can't keep it to myself anymore. The contractions are coming quickly one after another. There seems to be no break between them. But when the midwife arrives, there's only 1 centimeter of dilation. She suggests we take a drive in the car. "A drive in the car? Is she out of her mind?", I wonder. A few hours later we call again. This is unbearable. Three centimeters... I burst into tears. I really can't keep this up. The midwife suggests we go to the hospital and ask for pain relief. I feel like a huge loser, but she reassures me that this is not the case and that it could still take a very long time.

When I arrive at the hospital, I receive an epidural and my membranes are ruptured. What a relief. No more feeling contractions for a while. However, the calm is short-lived. Alarms go off and in no time my room is filled with staff. Our baby is struggling. During contractions, he gets less oxygen. Several times they take some blood by scratching his little head with a sort of knife. It makes me want to cry. How pitiful! Just when I think: "I'm going to explode down there!", I'm allowed to push. But it just doesn't work. Why won't he come out? It couldn't be a 10-pounder, could it? Quickly, an ultrasound is performed. It turns out he's facing the stars. I have to lie on my side and push hard during contractions in the hope that he will turn. I'm not allowed to push along. Well, try that when your whole body is screaming that something needs to come out. By then, the epidural had also worn off. I don't remember everything that happened next. In any case, the room keeps getting busier. Suddenly, there's a stern man at my lower end who says: "If he's not out in half an hour, it's going to be a cesarean section". With a snip and the dreaded vacuum pump, our son is literally pulled out. I'm exhausted (literally and figuratively), but so happy that Finn is here! Hopefully, the shape of his head will change somewhat. This is definitely conehead size.

The maternity week is going well

But then our dear maternity nurse is suddenly gone and the little one starts crying. Not just any crying, but screaming at the volume of a piglet, about 18 hours a day. I start to doubt myself. "What am I doing wrong? Why didn't he do this last week?" We just muddle through. At some point, I really can't take it anymore. I am so tired, disappointed, and sad. Why can't I, as a mother, comfort my little baby? At the child health clinic, I am sent away with the story that all babies cry. It's my first, right? I must be overanxious. In addition, it doesn't really help that I look a lot younger than I actually am. They probably think I'm a teenage mother. So we muddle through again. At some point, I really can't take it anymore. I am a zombie and beg my boyfriend to take Finn with him. I don't want to anymore, I can't do it and I am exhausted. This can't go on. Tomorrow we are going to the doctor. Fortunately, we have the kindest doctor there is. She takes a long time for us and really listens! She shows understanding, something I haven't received until now. This alone is a huge relief. She examines Finn carefully. "What a lot of rash he has?" When he starts crying and stiffens like a board, she mentions the term cow's milk allergy. Something we had already indicated at the child health clinic. Finn's father had this as a baby too. This, combined with my asthma and hay fever, increases the chance that he will develop a CMA. But according to the child health clinic, this is absolutely not a CMA. The rash is from the hormones that still need to leave his system. The doctor advises buying a can of pepti. Within a few days, the rash decreases significantly! Unfortunately, not the abdominal cramps. We can come back on Monday. We are allowed to try Nutramigen. And this turns out to make a big difference! The cramps become "normal" baby cramps and there is sleep. It's as if we've been given a completely different child. Finally, I can start enjoying being a mother.

When I look back on this period, I can still feel sad about it

We didn't get to enjoy our son as a little baby at all. Those first months just passed by in a blur. I feel ashamed of the thoughts I sometimes had after hours of hearing crying. But I'm also angry. Angry that I wasn't taken seriously. That it's automatically assumed you're being overprotective. That no one really listened to me as a mother. But I'm also disappointed in myself. That I let myself be sent away and didn't stand my ground more firmly. Fortunately, I did this with my second child and now I stand much stronger in my shoes as a mother. So dear moms. Are you currently in the 24/7 crying phase? I feel you! My advice to you, don't let yourself be dismissed so easily. Don't think you're nagging. You really know best! And just follow your own feelings. And all those content, sleeping babies you see in all those department stores are not the standard!

SUZANNE