I heard the unmistakable wail of an infant as I exited the bathroom at the discount grocery store. Over and over, the tiny cry filled the warehouse that keeps prices low by having customers bag their own groceries, and then I saw her: a panicked new mom with an infant carrier atop her cart.
With one foot she rocked the cart in vain, trying to calm her newborn, and with fumbling hands she mashed her PIN into the credit card machine.
The people in line stared.
They watched, without moving, as she broke into a sweat. They checked their watches as she once again tried to soothe her baby with a pacifier.
And so I strode right on up and offered to help.
The people in line looked chagrined.
“Oh, thank you,” the mom said as I started throwing bread, cheese, and fruit into bags and plopping them into her cart.
“Thank you,” the cashier mouthed to me when our eyes met.
The people in line looked at their shoes and phones. Anywhere but at us.
“It’s no problem,” I told the mom. “My little one was a screamer, too.”
That truth is perhaps why I couldn’t just stand by when others did. Seeing this new mom not just struggle, but do so in such a public way, brought on flashbacks of the hot panic I’d get when my son would start up. My pulse would race, I’d start to sweat, and from all angles I felt the judging. I simply knew all those staring were tutting at my inadequacy.
The mom at the grocery store thanked me again before rushing out to her car, and though I was happy to have lent a hand I wished I had said more. I wished I had told her, “You’re doing great.”
Or, “This shall pass.”
Or maybe, “It gets better.”
Or perhaps most importantly of all, “It’s not you.”
That last one’s a little tougher to swallow, because no one likes to blame the baby, but I think those were the words I needed to hear most when my second son was struggling. It really wasn’t me. I wasn’t inept. It was him — and he just wasn’t feeling well.
I spent hours searching the web for information on colic, took multiple trips to the pediatrician, and in the end it turned out that it was gas giving our little guy so much grief. We found relief, and peace, with Mylicon. Three to four times a day I gave him a few little drops, and slowly things started to improve. We made it without incident through a park play date, then the ultimate test — dinner at a restaurant.
These days I smile when I see cooing babies happily drooling on their mother’s shoulder, but there’s also a special place in my heart for that newborn wail. I make a point of trying to offer help to moms with crying infants whenever I can, but I’m a little shy about actually saying my words of comfort out loud. Unsolicited advice has a notoriously bad reputation, so I try and avoid it, but I do wish there was an easy way for us parents to show a little love to one another.
What three words did you need to hear most as a new mom?
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This post is sponsored by Mylicon®.
Photos: MorgueFile
