2 Weeks 5 Days

A strong warrior knows that strength and resolve are not enough to win a difficult battle. Preparation, armor and weaponry are equally essential.

Sleep is vital. This is usually the scarcest resource for the newborn parent, and one I personally struggle without. It was hard to obtain the first ten days, including labor and hospital time. Despite Eli's colic, Melissa and I have both settled into relatively robust sleep schedules. We have a 3.5 story house with our bedroom in the top and a basement. With a white noise machine, bedroom sleepers can't hear Eli's cries. She's in bed without baby from around 9 PM to 6 AM every night, but has to settle for snatches in between pumping every three hours. Eli hasn't yet had an episode after 4 AM, so I usually snag two or three hours in the basement before handing the pylon to Melissa. Then I sleep unfettered in the bedroom till noon. Our natural inclinations pointed us towards these disparate schedules before baby. I really don't mind staying up till dawn if I can sleep through the morning. This all works because Melissa is on maternity leave and I don't have to work during the summer. Colic would be a much uglier sentence for working parents.

Exercise has always been my greatest addiction. I simply don't feel great until I get it. There is  no version of a good day without exercise. I am usually able to get a workout in the afternoon while Melissa and/or grandparents hang with Eli. I get grumpy when we schedule commitments in the morning or afternoon as they compromise this routine which is so crucial in preparing me for the night battle. This is the hottest time of the year, but a persistent monsoon usually provides afternoon cloud cover. The heat is usually tolerable on the bicycle - my current favorite form of exercise as it allows me to get out of the house, listen to a podcast and gaze at mountains I hope to climb one day with Eli.

A number of friends have graciously brought us food since we returned from the hospital. When we have a visitor, we have them bring takeout. I fell in love with cooking during the pandemic and look forward to getting back to it, but it is hard to justify an hour on food preparation during infancy. We eat delicious and nutritious dinners every night. Melissa is psyched to eat foods she had to avoid during pregnancy such as salad and Indian.

I have an iced latte every evening. I still haven't determined my optimal long-term relationship with caffeine, but it is pivotal right now. My darkest day so far came when I was dealing with a vicious headache all afternoon. I was petrified of entering the battlefield with that impediment. I tried everything to assuage it. Nothing worked until downing the latte, which immediately shed the headache and allowed me take care of business.

Traditional techniques are not effective against Eli's colic. We read this book before he was born and I felt confident and prepared to deploy the 5 Ss. I know I'm not implementing them perfectly (swaddle technique is hard!), but they don't really work on Eli. He wants to flail his arms, he hates being shhhhed, he doesn't like being turned on his side and he angrily spits out his pacifier once he realizes milk isn't coming out of it.

But I do have potent weaponry at my disposal. Rubbing Eli's tummy in circular motions usually calms him for a time, long enough to cease fire and consider our next tactics. Tonight during an episode I took him on a walk in the stroller. It quickly soothed him. Encouraged, I set out on a neighborhood expedition while listening to a fantasy football podcast. But halfway through the hike - at our furthest point from home - he began bawling and didn't really halt till we got home and I fed him. I have visions of strapping on my headlamp and taking him for lengthy nighttime excursions, but fear these journeys won't be feasible if he cries through them. We live in a fairly rural community, but it is a community. Neighbors will not appreciate babies crying at midnight. 

There are no nukes for colic, but I do have one tremendous weapon in my arsenal: a 2013 Toyota Prius. Taking Eli for a drive has quickly become my go-to in the colic wars. Driving puts him to sleep. It usually takes between five and ten minutes. Thirty if he's really struggling. He doesn't necessarily stay asleep. But the Prius comes with armor in the form of music. I turn up the tunes and his crying is reduced to background noise. 

I've taken him for a drive or two every night since the colic started raging. We randomly, slowly explore the neighborhoods surrounding Lafayette, Colorado. We moved a little over a year ago so there is plenty of fresh territory to investigate. Exploring my surroundings (usually via bike) has always been one of my favorite activities. The radio stations are better at night. I am doing this super fun Music League thing with some college friends. When he stops crying, I shift to a podcast or phone call. I have been catching up with a lot of old friends. If you want to chat, let me know. I'll give you a call sometime between 9 PM and 4 AM mountain.

I think of myself as a chauffeur who has a nightly shift with an annoying client. It really isn't that bad a job. Most people have worse. I pity the colic parents who don't have this sort of time, flexibility and weaponry available in their nightly battle.