Panic

I’m sure you’ve heard of colic— that little-understood condition some babies have that makes them cry for hours upon hours as if they’ve been stuck with a pin. That’s what my oldest daughter Lily had for the first four months of her life. 

That first night in the hospital, after having a C-section, Lily was in the nursery so I could rest. As I lay in bed, I heard a terrible screaming down the hall. It went on and on and I remember saying, “Woe! Somebody’s baby is NOT happy.” After a couple of hours, the distant screaming came closer and closer, and then right up to my door. An annoyed looking nurse came into the room holding my Lillian, red as a beet and crying amazingly loud for someone who’d only been out in the world a few hours. The nurse said, “This one needs her Mama.” So I took her in my inexperienced arms and guess what? She kept crying. 

Once at home, my husband and I frantically attempted to figure out the crying— what made it start and what in the world would make it stop. We used a notebook to chart our detailed guesses along with times, actions taken, and outcomes. It was like a science experiment in which we could find absolutely no pattern. 

I had a book that told parents how to get their baby on a sleep schedule, written in a calming tone. I’d read it before having Lily. After a few weeks of real motherhood, I ripped it to shreds and would have set it on fire too but we didn’t have a fireplace at that time. 

One afternoon as my husband and I watched Lily squirm and scream, my husband said, “maybe she’s too hot?” She was wearing pale pink, footy pajamas— really cute ones given as a gift at our baby shower. I said desperately, “yeah, maybe that’s it! Maybe she’s crying because she’s too hot! Hand me those scissors.” My husband unquestioningly handed me the scissors. I grabbed the footies pulled them way up high away from Lily’s feet, and cut them right off, to cool her down. Because that makes sense... My husband and I looked at each other wide-eyed and then back at Lily. She continued to scream. “Guess it wasn’t the footies making her hot,” I said, holding the limp footies in my hand. “Yeah, I guess not,” my husband agreed. 

We’ve laughed about that so many times since then. And I’ve thought about it this week as life seems especially out of control and we all try to figure it out together. It’s very easy to make weird decisions when you’re tired or worried or scared. That’s natural. And even though what we’re all experiencing with this rotten virus, is much harder and more serious than colic, it too will eventually pass. And if we remember that, and take breaks from the loud noise of news and worry— and if we look up at the sky and remember how big it is and how much bigger God must be, we will be far more likely to make rational decisions. And maybe not buy quite so much toilet tissue. 

I’m praying for us all. God is with us. Our anchor is sure. 

~Amy