Reflux, you are the bane of my existence. You’ve inflicted pain on my precious little girl, who is nothing short of a miracle. It’s astounding how a sweet, joyful baby can be overshadowed by your relentless torment. She’s been labeled the “fussy baby,” the “challenging one,” and the “constant screamer.” But only I can see the cheerful, giggling baby trapped beneath those anguished cries. Only I know the truth.
I won’t lie; there were days when I found it hard to embrace my new role as a mother. After hours spent swaying, shushing, and cleaning up after you, joy felt like a distant memory. The tender moments, the stolen kisses, the sweet nursing sessions were all overshadowed by the chaos you brought into our lives. My daughter’s infancy felt like a battlefield, marked by tears and anguish. Our beautiful girl struggled for everything—air, nourishment, and rest—and it’s all because of you.
Reflux, you’ve robbed us of so much.
You’ve taken our sleep, too. As night fell, my husband and I donned our metaphorical armor. Our baby would start squirming, fussing, and eventually wailing. No amount of comforting could stave off the tidal wave of despair that crashed over us night after night.
During the day, I could manage her cries as long as I held her close. We survived those hours, but the nights were different. The grip I thought I had on the situation would slip away, and your full force would consume us. How many nights did we walk our screaming baby around the yard, hoping it would help? Too many to count. And in those moments of desperation, I would break down, clutching my wailing child in my arms, wondering when it would all end. Hours would go by, filled with choking, gagging, and vomiting, while sleep eluded all of us. The only comfort she found was on my chest, and even then, I couldn’t rest. I am so utterly drained.
Reflux, you made me feel isolated. My home became a prison. With you in our lives, my baby cried constantly, whether we were on the road, at the store, or just trying to enjoy a meal. No one could take care of her but me, and soon I stopped trying to leave. I became a shadow in my own life, tethered to a crying baby.
When I reached out for support, I found few who truly understood our plight. Well-meaning platitudes hardened my heart. I dreaded hearing that “this is just a phase” or “it will all be worth it in the end.” I felt so alone.
Even in the company of other mothers, jealousy crept in as I watched them with their contented babies. I regretted that mine couldn’t be that way and felt horrible for those thoughts. I was her only champion, and even I found myself wishing for a different baby.
Reflux, you’ve tried to steal my time, my child’s infancy, my marriage, and my happiness. You thought you could break us. But here we are, at the beginning of a new year, full of hope. The end of your reign is finally visible.
Yet the scars you left will linger. The dream of a third child has dimmed, as my husband and I can’t fathom enduring another year with you. Your burden is too great, and so that dream remains unfulfilled. But that’s alright; my family is beautiful just as it is.
My little girl, once the embodiment of screams and distress, is beginning to blossom. She is radiant, vibrant, and full of life. Her resilience is a gift I hope she carries with her always. You tried to break her, and you tried to break me as well.
But I’m stronger now. I learned to fight through the worry, exhaustion, and sorrow. I discovered how to advocate fiercely for my daughter. “No” became unacceptable, and I sought answers relentlessly. We visited countless doctors until I found the help we needed. I armed myself with knowledge, learning everything I could about her condition. This battle was one I couldn’t afford to lose.
When I felt I couldn’t take another step, I found the strength to keep going. We’ve marched through this chaos together, and now, we’re starting to thrive. Laughter fills our home more often than tears, and I’ve begun to wean her off some of the medications that once felt necessary. We’ve even enjoyed a few full nights of sleep and celebrated milestones that once seemed unreachable. We’re still here, and we’re looking toward a brighter future. So, from the depths of my heart: Reflux, you will never claim victory over us.
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In summary, despite the struggles caused by reflux, my family has grown stronger and more resilient. We’ve learned to navigate the chaos together and are beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.