When my Little Bear was a baby, he cried all the time, unless my husband or I was holding him and moving around with him. He had to be constantly in motion. If I set him down for just a minute to wolf down some food, or run to the bathroom, there would be continuous howling.
I didn’t know it at the time, but he was always uncomfortable from his severe silent reflux. Although all of his crying and fussing makes sense now, at the time I found it very frustrating because I couldn’t figure out how to fix his problems. I have always been a fixer, a doer, and a problem solver, and I knew that I was doing all of the right things for him, so I was completely baffled and slightly annoyed that I couldn’t soothe my baby.
“It will get better,” my husband would tell me, “At least when he is older, he will be able to talk and he can tell us what he wants.” For me, that was a glimmer of hope. Maybe when he was able to talk, I would be able to figure out what he wanted so that I could better meet his needs. Talking would open up his world for me so that I could understand what was really going on inside of him.
As the months passed, I waited for his first words to emerge.
They didn’t come.