Colic is a thing. A thing which no-one really knows what it is. Like electricity. No, wait, clever people probably know what that is. Ok, dark matter. Clever people can’t find that, and they’re clever.
No-one really knows what colic is, not even Wikipedia, which has the following to say on the matter:
“Colic, right, is, erm, yeah……when your baby cries. For ages. Because it’s got colic. And stuff.”
Wikipedia didn’t really say that. I did. But it’s paraphrased. I may even go and edit the article in a minute.
The world is so unsure about colic that it can’t even decide whether a baby HAS colic, IS colic, GETS colic or what.
But, unlike dark matter (have they tried looking under the fridge I wonder? I bet that’s where it is) I can tell you EXACTLY where to find colic. You can find colic in my house. My baby is OOZING colic. He’s like a COLIC MINE. I’m going to set up a stall at our local farmer’s market (natch) in an attempt to offload some of the abundance of colic there is in my life right now.
Colic is a bitch. A bastard of the highest order. Our baby has been/had/is/got colic for about a week so far. That’s nothing. The people who don’t know what colic is certainly do have some thoughts on how long it can stick around: up to a YEAR.
There’s also plenty out there on the side effects of colic: emotional stress, feelings of inadequacy in parents, low self esteem, resentment, marital discord, postpartum depression. There are even studies attributing car accidents to colic. I’m sure I heard that Hitler had colic, and we all know how well that turned out.
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| See those stars? They're colic. Probably. |
To be serious for just a moment, colic has the potential to be genuinely devastating. If your baby has/is/gets/oozes colic I would encourage you to seek out any and all support available to you. Also remember this: it is not your fault.
It is not because you are doing something wrong as a parent.
It is not because of something you did during the pregnancy.
It is not just your baby. It is not unusual.
It will pass, it will improve, you will have that shiny beautiful tiny person back.
(In case it’s not obvious to anyone, I am telling myself these things as much as I’m telling anyone else who reads this)
Once again, I’m left feeling guilty for not being able to do anything to help Mrs L through the long, scream-filled days she is currently dealing with, while I go to work and feel like someone’s secretly lobotomised me during the night.
He tends to sleep in the night (so far, fingers crossed, sacrifices made to the God of colic) and save his unbridled fury for Mrs L to deal with during the day. So I get just a small portion of the colic. A snippet. A modicum of colic.
Mrs L gets the full fat version. The unlimited use package. I feel so bad as I leave the house, it just doesn’t seem fair.
So now it’s over to you. Your suggestions in my comment area: what is colic? What are your experiences of colic? What is the best animal to sacrifice or witchcraft to perform to exorcise our home of this elusive yet utterly pervasive…thing?
Colic: it can fuck ever so off.
