Reflecting On My Newborn: Gage

Gage William. Such a fantastically beautiful baby. See the fur on his shoulders? I loved that fur. He was born 9 days early, with (dare I say it?) an easy labor and delivery. He had the most gorgeous, huge bluish-gray eyes that opened immediately after birth. His gaze was throat-catching...his eyes sharp and wise.

Gage was a typical baby for the first two weeks...I say typical in a kind of all-encompassing, all-accepting way. He was on the small side and had to be monitored to make sure that he was at a healthy weight. He was up many times every night. He was just what we expected from our first baby.

And then.

Ohhh, and then.

The colic started.

He cried from the time he was 14 days old until he was 3 months, 3 days. I know this because the day he cheered up...we ALL cheered up. The poor little guy had an awful go of it...he was constantly unhappy, constantly arching his little body to try to avoid what experts assume is comparable to full-time gas pains. (No one really knows what colic is, or how to fix it, just that it randomly strikes 1 out of every 4 or 5 babies.)

The pediatrician had no advice, other than to hang tough. Well-meaning strangers had plenty of advice, mostly made up of the (oh-so-helpful) comments like: "He sounds hungry." or "Uh-oh! Somebody needs a nap!" After weeks of politely dealing with these comments, weeks of near-constant screaming in my ear, weeks of little sleep at night and a child who napped maybe 10 minutes to one hour THE ENTIRE DAY, my response transformed from: "No, he's not hungry. He just ate," to a slightly wild-eyed: "Nope! This is just my son! This is how he is! This is our life!"

Ah, motherhood.

I remember thinking: "THIS. Is not what I imagined."

But throughout all of the screaming, all of the heartache of watching this intense little baby and not being able to help him, Gage and I were pals. We had each other and we needed each other. He didn't scream any less for me than he did for anyone else, but MAN did we have a deep connection. We had such a palpable bond in those early days...I sensed from him that he was unhappy but not angry. He needed to cry but he didn't want to have to. And he seemed really grateful that I still loved him through all of it.

The one time that Gage was quiet was when we'd bathe together, so we bathed together often. The warm water soothed him and he'd relax on my chest. He'd snuggle into me, into my neck, and I welcomed the softness of his body, the compliance of his tranquil little form. The bath was an escape for us both and is one of my strongest memories of baby Gage.

You get what you get, and you do right by your kid. You have to. You don't have a choice: You're the mama.

When the colic dissipated he turned into his real self...and I recognized him immediately.

I remember thinking: "THIS. Is what I imagined."

And our adventure began for real.