How God Helps Me, Part One
alec vanderboom
God handed me a really tough baby.
It's embarrassing to write that sentence because I'm a former NICU Mom. I had a kid that almost died on day six of her life.
Yet Infant Reflux (or Perpetual Colic as I've nicknamed it in my mind) is even harder for me than a NICU stay. My baby is in chronic, perpetual discomfort. I'm all alone with her for 12 hours a day. There are no doctors around or kind nurses to reassure me that she's fine and I'm doing a great job as her Mom. We've carefully ruled out any serious health problems--the new medicine is working most days--I'm just left with a sensitive, mostly crabby child who says "I hurt Mommy! I hurt!" over and over again for hours every day.
And I've got nothing.
I've got breastmilk. And hugs. And walks in the stroller. And tender smiles from her older sisters.
Sometimes that works to soothe her tears, but the second I stop--it doesn't.
When I get tired, I tuck her into her bassinet that I've moved into our dining room, turn on my bedroom air conditioner so I can't hear her cries, shut the door and go to sleep.
When I get up to check on her at 5 AM, she's up looking around, her voice horse from crying. Then I think "You've been crying non-stop for three hours. I'm the worse Mother in the world."
Which I know isn't true, intellectually.
But it "feels" true in that moment.
So I'm failing over and over again.
My prayers for my baby's healing or my better coping skills are going no where.
But here is the strange part--all around me--the unseen, major problems in my life ARE getting healed.
It's as if God says "Well Abigail, I'm not going to end this cross--but I will pick up a bunch of your other crosses in order to lighten your load."
So here are a few journal entries into the many "healings" in my life.
It's embarrassing to write that sentence because I'm a former NICU Mom. I had a kid that almost died on day six of her life.
Yet Infant Reflux (or Perpetual Colic as I've nicknamed it in my mind) is even harder for me than a NICU stay. My baby is in chronic, perpetual discomfort. I'm all alone with her for 12 hours a day. There are no doctors around or kind nurses to reassure me that she's fine and I'm doing a great job as her Mom. We've carefully ruled out any serious health problems--the new medicine is working most days--I'm just left with a sensitive, mostly crabby child who says "I hurt Mommy! I hurt!" over and over again for hours every day.
And I've got nothing.
I've got breastmilk. And hugs. And walks in the stroller. And tender smiles from her older sisters.
Sometimes that works to soothe her tears, but the second I stop--it doesn't.
When I get tired, I tuck her into her bassinet that I've moved into our dining room, turn on my bedroom air conditioner so I can't hear her cries, shut the door and go to sleep.
When I get up to check on her at 5 AM, she's up looking around, her voice horse from crying. Then I think "You've been crying non-stop for three hours. I'm the worse Mother in the world."
Which I know isn't true, intellectually.
But it "feels" true in that moment.
So I'm failing over and over again.
My prayers for my baby's healing or my better coping skills are going no where.
But here is the strange part--all around me--the unseen, major problems in my life ARE getting healed.
It's as if God says "Well Abigail, I'm not going to end this cross--but I will pick up a bunch of your other crosses in order to lighten your load."
So here are a few journal entries into the many "healings" in my life.