Some things about this perfect baby boy Jude: his eyes are still blue, enormous and glassy like tiny pools, gently sunset with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. His favorite thing in the whole world is this psychologically unsettling mobile over his changing table — an upside-down cone of black and white spirals, something straight out of Vertigo. He is, arguably, a baby beluga in the deep blue sea. He loves baths, always falls asleep in his car seat, and makes adult facial expressions. Sometimes he’ll suddenly snap to being completely alert and wide-eyed as if his species has just been activated by an outside controller. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life.
Also, he throws up approximately 100 times a day.
I’ve tried to start this column — Baby Steps’ first post-birth edition — on three (3) different topics but each one eventually needed to address this core aspect of his personhood and our parenting experience. It feels unfair, to him or to us, to start with this, instead of the heartwarming stuff. But maybe this is heartwarming, too, how we carry each other’s pain, make space for all the special, inconvenient things about loving each other. How it makes the moments when he’s not in pain so precious.
So, let me just get this part out of the way. Much like Jude, my valiant baby boy, gets most of the food he consumes out of the way by expelling it from his perfect, tiny mouth.
Jude in his special anti-reflux recliner
Jude came out small, like really small, like smaller than every swaddle we had for him. Our first night back from the hospital, I panic-ordered every newborn-sized swaddle my local Target could deliver the next morning, including these grey fleece pods he ended up loving.
Some days or nights, zipping him into his pod was enough to calm him down when he got upset, and he got upset a lot. Once Gretchen’s milk came in, his upset was generally related to wanting to eat or having just eaten. He would eat and then recover from eating and then eat again. He’d crunch his body, arch his back, scream or wail or frown or grimace, and hiccup and fart and turn bright red, inconsolable. He’d spit up fresh, opaque breastmilk, and also curdled breastmilk. He’d gurgle and cough.
All of this, apparently, is normal, unexceptional. Common, even! A baby’s stomach and digestive system takes some time to function properly. We had a seemingly endless parade of doctor and lactation consultant appointments in those first weeks, and we’d bundle him up and bring extra outfits and burp cloths and bandanas and bibs. We’d ask for help and get tips and we’d go home hopeful that THIS would be the cure. We’d cut out dairy! We’d do the football hold! We’d take probiotics! It will be LIKE NIGHT AND DAY!
Jude in his favorite swaddle
At first you don’t really know which of the baby’s behaviors are going to be a Thing and which are just the music playing in the lobby before you sit down for the show. But it seems like most people’s babies have a Thing. (Did your baby have a Thing? Tell me about it in the comments!) They won’t sleep, they can’t latch, they have a tongue tie, or jaundice, or colic (which always sounded to me like an 18th century plague, not a word for a baby who cries a lot) or lethargy or infections or cradle cap, diaper rash, dermatitis, clogged tear ducts.
Our Thing is this: severe reflux. GERD. There are standard recommendations of how to ease or fix the reflux, and we have done them all. Extra burping. No burping. Holding him upright for 15-45 minutes after each feeding. Going dairy-free. Bouncing him. Keeping him still. Feeding less often or more often, for more time or less time. Sleeping or resting at an angle. Pacifiers. Specific positions for breastfeeding. Probiotics. Colic care. Gripe water. This stretch, that massage, this hold, that hold.
Nothing eased his near-constant pain or reduced the volume of spit-up, which increased every day, like a gathering storm. When he was simply being a baby who cried and not a baby with severe reflux, we often found calming techniques that would work for a day or two: that fleece pod, a certain song, a pacifier, a way I could hold him and shhh him while breathing in and out.
We watched a lot of TikToks, read a lot of reddit threads, tried everything, reminded ourselves that it was okay and he was normal and even though I know all of this actually happened, and I wrote it down in my journal at the time, I don’t remember the crying parts all that well, even when the crying parts lasted the whole entire day. We didn’t take pictures of those parts, either.
At around six weeks in — just before I went back to work — we made the tough decision to put him on prescription medication, a low dose of famotidine (Pepcid), which were told would help with the pain but not the spit-up. It seemed to work a bit. He began gaining weight faster, climbing out of the 11th percentile into the 25th. He was crying less usually, in less pain usually, able finally to nap for long stretches during the day. But some days he spit up so soon after taking the medicine that we weren’t sure it got into his system at all.
He is perfect and so small and I can’t believe they let us keep him and the rate at which he consumes and then expels breastmilk is astounding. It is exceptional! I do a full load of laundry every day — a bevy of his bandanas and bibs and outfits, and also our own, our t-shirts with trails of sick down their backs, our pants, our socks, our sweatshirts, our blankets and pillowcases and sheets, his muslin blankets, his snoo sacks, our 50 burp cloths.
Jude getting clean
Your existence in space, the way you arrange your body and possessions, the things you carry from room to room, the items you keep nearby, or avoid — as humans, we seem to adapt quickly to this. The way I know I cannot leave an edible item on a surface that Penn can access for even one unsupervised second.
The way, now, we must be prepared at any moment to be suddenly bathed in breastmilk or curdled remnants thereof, that the velocity of this spit-up will be unpredictable and that no amount of careful attention can predict its journey. It is everywhere, pervasive, as common as air, or our own saliva, or drinking water.
It is of us and we are of it, and it was of Jude but it is now, blessedly, of the world.
When people come over they say that the house looks so clean, that for the parents of newborns we are keeping everything so nice, and I think that’s true — but beneath the vacuumed floor and the wiped counter are the deep, unsettled remains of spilled breastmilk, no corner of the house untouched by its specter.
He is so little and so precious, so perfect and so human, so precious and so perfect and so little and so human. He falls asleep on our chests, frog-like and tender, his lips barely parted. Sometimes he smiles and laughs and we play songs and dance around the nursery, he coos at pictures that are literally just black and white stripes on a piece of cardboard. He is of us and we are of him.
We always have Jude in a bandana
I used to throw up a lot. I have a sensitive stomach and I often fall ill with food poisoning, but I also had some disordered eating in my late teens and early twenties, and was a passionate binge drinker for most of my thirties, even though my body consistently rejected the alcohol I subjected it to. Some days or weekends or weeks my throat would feel rubbed raw, my body concave, my mouth acidic. It’s hard to look at him and not project those physical sensations onto him, to wonder how he bears it, how it can’t hurt? Like it hurts to breathe? All those hiccups, the gas, the coughing.
It’s hard to look at your child and understand his feelings aren’t your own — were I living his life I would’ve asked for a prescription on day two. But we have to be careful about those things, I understand.
We’re told he’ll grow out of it, once he can sit up more, once his muscles are stronger, once he switches to solids. In 3.5 months or 4 months or 6 months or a whole year. Yesterday was a nonstop milky waterfall and so we’re trying something else; switching from breastfeeding to bottles to ensure he doesn’t overeat. I’m pretty sure that this new approach or writing an essay about it will fix everything!
But even if it doesn’t, even if he’s exactly like this forever? He’s absolutely perfect. He’s got these blue eyes, enormous and glassy like tiny pools, and I can see forever just inside them.
I have no baby advice to offer but I can say that Jude is the cutest! Bandannas are always a great choice. You’ve got this!
i love to coordinate a bandana with an outfit it is my new passion
oh poor bubba!! seeing our babies in pain and being unable to fix it is truly the hardest thing. i’m sure his tummy troubles will sort themselves out as he gets bigger. in the meanwhile, he is the most beautifully baby boy!
(my kid was the non-sleeper. he didn’t fuss, he just preferred being awake. it sorted himself out when he was around 4. every baby does indeed have their thing, and every parent learns how to live with it)
we do feel blessed that he is pretty interested in sleeping at night, and kinda good at napping during the day. except from around 4pm to 9pm during which time he has no interest in napping but is very interested in screaming
honestly, that’s the time of day i most want to scream myself!
My son’s main thing was (still is at three, but it’s treated now) chronic constipation. We even had to – at our pediatricians recommendation – take him to the hospital once. We got charged over $1000 to be told our child is just super full of poop – they did at least have some advice that helped though. It is so tough seeing your little one in pain! Babies do tend to grow out of this kind of tummy issue, but that said I would keep pushing if you really feel like something is wrong. Sometimes getting a diagnosis can just take time. Hope Jude feels better soon!!
oh man that’s so rough! i’m glad you got some helpful advice ultimately. we’re seeing a GI In two weeks, so very hopeful that we might start understanding better what’s going on.
He’s getting so big!! We have a velcro/fomo baby who at 4 months finally decided that it might be acceptable to sleep for 30 minutes in his crib occasionally, as long as he is deeply asleep first. (I’m convinced drowsy but awake is a lie made up by the Big Sleep industry to sell swaddles)
No reflux but gas drops are a miracle too.
He’s about to be 5 months and for us atleast he has gotten less fussy thankfully. But still King Fussy of the 5 grandkids according to my Mom! I.am.so.tired.
oh man yeah jude had a brief phase of only wanting contact naps and now he’s in a phase of changing his mind every day about where he is willing to sleep and for how long. the snoo has been great cuz he won’t sleep in a crib at all still otherwise. i hope you’re able to get some sleep soon! and ur kiddo gets some in the crib!
“Surely this will fix everything” is the most beautiful lie we can tell ourselves and each other. I believe in your latest solution 100%! The weird thing is that not even a year later you won’t remember the whole saga aside from what you wrote about it, even though it was your whole life for an infinite amount of time. Glad you’re having fun with it!
yes it turned out we believe it or not were wrong and it did not fix everything! but yes, i think you’re right. that we won’t remember this we’ll remember the goofy smilie parts.
He’s beautiful Riese! And I love his bib collection :)
he is! and he’s got such a lovely unrivaled resplendent stock of bibs
My kid and I struggled SO HARD to breastfeed. I read the entire internet about breastfeeding, convinced myself me/my kid were broken, and then my blessed midwife took one look at us, told us we both had thrush, and got us a prescription ASAP. It was a godsend. I hope you also find your magic bullet soon!
Thrush sounds awful, I’m so glad you got a prescription and it turned around. Gretchen has really experienced the full range of breastfeeding maladies, like blebs, mastis… and everything aforementioned in this post, but hoping that we’ll solve one or two of those problems at some point in the near future fingers crossed!
Our baby is six months and refuses to sleep unless one of us is beside them at all times. Like, they go to bed at six-ish and one of us must be present from then until morning, and same with naps. So! We don’t get anything done but we do get a lot of snuggles :) Hope you, Gretchen, and sweet Jude get some relief soon!
velcro baby! that would make the rest of life hard to accomplish. but cuddles are cuteee
My mom still tells stories of my throwing up as a baby (I used to do something similar to Jude, ruined many a clothing item) and having to make friends with the local gas station attendants from having to pull over to clean me/the car seat so often. BUT!!!! I am (mostly) fine and she seems (mostly) in good spirits about the whole thing!!!
Love you guys and the littlest sweetest boy
well you do seem fine and you’ve never thrown up on me as an adult so that is important for us to remember and hold close!!! love you!!
Oh wow I could have written this article myself!! My wife and I had our baby Feb 9 of this year and we are going through all of the same things with reflux. We have tried EVERYTHING – the medication helps a bit. We are now 5 days into a 2 week trial of a special allergy formula instead of breastfeeding. It was heartbreaking for my wife to consider giving up breastfeeding.
Sending you all of my love (and burp cloths) – you got this!
kate! this is so comforting because it turns out that this problem is not very common lol, i talk to friends who are like oh i don’t think my baby ever spit up?? what medication are you using now? they added lansoprolazone for us and after 10 days or so it seems to have really helped with the discomfort. spit-up continues to rage on. did your wife try doing non-dairy? It was SO hard to do so we stopped cuz it didn’t seem to be making a difference, and there weren’t any other signs of an allergy or intolerance, although ever since stopping he has been getting acne (which is unrelated, apparently, but it’s just weird!) let me know how the allergy formula goes! gretchen really doesn’t wanna give up breastfeeding either. sending you love and laundry!
kate! this is so comforting because it turns out that this problem is not very common lol, i talk to friends who are like oh i don’t think my baby ever spit up?? what medication are you using now? they added lansoprolazone for us and after 10 days or so it seems to have really helped with the discomfort. spit-up continues to rage on. did your wife try doing non-dairy? It was SO hard to do so we stopped cuz it didn’t seem to be making a difference, and there weren’t any other signs of an allergy or intolerance, although ever since stopping he has been getting acne (which is unrelated, apparently, but it’s just weird!) let me know how the allergy formula goes! gretchen really doesn’t wanna give up breastfeeding either. sending you love and laundry!
We are using Omeprazole for our guy – we are in Australia though so maybe it’s called something different there.
My wife has been no dairy and no soy (apparently the protein intolerances can often go hand in hand says our doc) for 6 weeks which has been so challenging because she is already gluten intolerant and vegetarian – we have pretty much been living on lentil soups. Honestly I don’t think it has made much a difference either! Same thing – not really any other signs of allergy / intolerance besides the reflux and the scream crying.
Ill keep you posted on the formula trial! It’s so heartbreaking when they seem in so much pain and nothing seems to help!!
I am sending love and healing to little Jude and Jude’s Mommies! New babies can bring so many challenges and so little sleeping gets done! My first baby had trouble latching and the lactation specialist saved us with a cool system of a catheter taped to my nipple and a little squeeze bottle for the milk, and so I would squeeze out a little milk as she would nurse. She got stronger and we got the hang of it. I burst into tears when they told me I was being discharged from the hospital. But it all worked out and now that baby is off to college! The second baby was a little easier and is also now a happy teenager.
Beautiful writing! Your descriptions gave me such sensory flashbacks to that time with my littles… I could SMELL the different phases of spit up as I read this. My wife’s sense of smell is useless which leaves me as the family bloodhound. … I know I missed something in this room sniff sniff sniff throw pillow!? Noooope sniff sniff sniff toy!? Noooope sniff sniff sniff dammit the rug!! Even now years later I still defensively plan bedding and nearby stuffed animals based on the number of laundry loads one pee/vomit will create.
Hang in there and keep writing! Your body is evolutionarily designed to forget all the hard parts.