Let’s talk about colicky/gassy/reflux babies

My daughter had silent reflux

The day my daughter was born, she farted on me. Literally — she came out of me farting. The nurse who handed her to me while she was farting was in shock. “I’ve never heard of a one-day-old farting,” she said.

That right there should’ve been my first clue that the next few months were going to be part hellish. But no — I laughed, because farts are funny.

I assure you, that was the last time I laughed at a fart. From that moment on, farts were not funny. They were traumatic.

I get A LOT of questions about the reflux/gas/colic Bermuda Triangle we went through with my daughter as a newborn, so I’m finally writing it all down. She’s one now, and we’ve been smooth sailing since she was 6 months old. (Wanted to start with something hopeful.)

I’ll go month by month so any mom reading this can skip to whatever month her baby is in if they want.

Month 1: For the first month, there wasn’t much we could do — tummy massages, bicycling her legs to help her fart, a warm (not hot) cherry seed belt or warm water bottle on her tummy. I remember telling myself this was just newborn stuff and that it would pass, like it did with my first. Little did I know.

Month 2: Our doctor said we could start Mylicon. We added a couple of drops to her pacifier during sleeps, but it still wasn’t getting better. This was also the month her colicky cries started, and the month she decided she hated milk. She would arch back every feed. My supply plummeted. I started to suspect this wasn’t normal newborn fussiness anymore — something was actually wrong. But the doctors kept telling me it was just newborn gas.

Month 3: This is when we hit peak gas and colicky crying. Our doctor recommended a cream for her tummy, which — looking back — I think was the only thing that gave her a sliver of relief.

Every day from 4–6:30, I had her in her carrier trying to calm her down. Then we’d do bath time, and after bath time she always took a turn for the worse. She would scream bloody murder until she fell asleep. She fought with my breast, fought with the bottle, fought with anything trying to feed her like it was her worst enemy.

Feeding her at night became the hardest thing ever. We tried the Pilates ball, swings, carriers, every damn position you can think of. She screamed every time we fed her. I could see she was in pain.

So I asked the doctor if she could have reflux. He said no, because she wasn’t puking.

Month 4: We were trying everything. Mylicon, warm treatment, gripe water, special formula for gas, special formula for reflux, feeding her in any way she’d accept, creams, massages. I was so desperate I even called my biodynamic craniosacral therapist.

At the end of the month, I called our doctor crying. I told him to point me in a direction because I was losing it. I hated seeing my baby so unhappy and in pain all the time. It was torture for both of us. He told me to go see a gastroenterologist.

So at 4.5 months, I took her to a gastroenterologist. I told her everything we’d gone through. They did an allergy test, and then she said it: silent reflux.

Finally, I had an answer. Not knowing what was wrong had been the thing slowly breaking me.

The doctor put her on a medication and told us to start solids. We did both immediately.

I want to pause here, because this is important. Reflux doesn’t always come with spit-up. Silent reflux — which is what my daughter had — means the acid comes up but doesn’t come out. The baby just swallows it back down, in pain, and there’s nothing visible to point to. It’s harder to detect, but just as common as regular reflux.

Month 5: This was the first month I sighed a sigh of relief. Things didn’t get better instantly, but there was hope — and after months of feeling hopeless, that little piece of hope gave me LIFE.

We started solids very early, and that did have a positive effect on her gas and reflux. The medication was helping too. She started crying less. Eating more.

She still hated milk. Hell, she’s one now and still hates it :) But she could tolerate more of it.

And by month 6, we were free. She even started sleeping better. (I also sleep trained — but not the leave-her-crying way — that’s a topic for another day.)

She’s one now. (Drinking game idea: drink every time I say she’s one.) She’s such a happy girl. I remember crying like crazy the first time I saw her smile. The baby who screamed through every feeding feels like a different child — and I feel like a totally different mom.

If you’re in the thick of it right now: trust your gut. If you think something’s wrong, something probably is. The answer is out there.

And don’t worry — the farts do eventually become funny again.

Always here if and when you have questions.

Love,

Manolya