Dear Daughter,

Now I know why you said to your mum while in the womb that I should sing to you.

I don't know if you are colic or not but I think that you might possibly be heading there. This is what Google had to say about colic babies...

"Colic is frequent, prolonged, and intense crying or fussiness in a healthy infant. Colic can be particularly frustrating for parents because the baby's distress occurs for no apparent reason and no amount of consoling seems to bring any relief".

I have this way of approaching most adversity as a challenge. I see it as an opportunity to show that my staying power is longer. Like, no matter how long, how far, how many times I go down, I'll get up more, I'll keep going. That mentality kicked in today with you crying. You started crying and being restless on and off from the morning and hadn't quite settled since.

I have been sick with the flu (I'm pretty sure it's not COVID) for two days. I still am. I feel like tonight might be the last storm before the new day, if I rest enough. Despite my headache and blocked nose, I couldn't just lay down while I heard you cry. You went from hand to hand, between me, your mum, and your two cousins to try to soothe you but your crying and restlessness prevailed. Evening came. After a nap, I changed gears and said to your mum, "Sling her against my body and I'll take her." Your poor mum was already juggling a lot from cooking, feeding you (and us), and changing your nappies, so I understand her fatigue. Like any mother, I could also sense her getting affected by your state. It made me feel good about myself to swoop in and save the day.

Anyhow... I did as I programmed myself to... I persevered. As I did, I learned something.

You want to feel safe. You want to feel held. You want to know at a subconscious level that no matter what, no matter how "too much" you or the situation may feel that we aren't going anywhere. That you'll be loved still, held still and you won't be given up on.

I come to this understanding from the messages that have been flying in today.

The first one was your Oma calling. She read your mum a diary written by her mother, your great-grandmother, and how she handled your Oma's infancy. I overheard a story that struck me. When your Oma became colic, your great-grandmother gave up on her and rolled her in the pram to the kitchen to cry by herself until she slept. Without judgment (but with my perspective projected), I'd say that's traumatizing. I know there are similar stories on your mums' other side of the family. An aunt would let her babies cry themselves to sleep without being held or soothed. "What is that communicating to the baby?" I ask myself. That they're only loved when they're "good little babies?" Even if they don't remember it, subconsciously that memory lives. So what kind of grown human will that produce?

I think that might be an ancestral memory floating around in your system. And that's one of the big lessons I learned today when I decided I wouldn't give up. At that moment I was letting you know that not only would I not give up, but I would not give up on you.

I had you bundled up against my body, head and all covered, and I sang to you with my fluey voice. I sang Titanic "Go on and on" by Celine Dion, I sang a bunch of Boyz to Men acapellas and anything else that came to mind. I sang with a deep hum beneath your crying, from my chest so you could feel and hear the vibrations directly to your body. I sang till you finally noticed warm vibrations coming through and you had to stop crying to hear it. I sang till you allowed my body warmth to engulf you and your body surrendered. I sang till you realized it was safe. That you are held and you can ease whatever tension, discomfort, or trauma and rest.

So about colic babies... My theory is, once the basics like nappies, hunger, any physical discomfort, and illness are found to not be the issue... They just need to feel safe. That's all you needed from me, and I'll continue to be here to give it.

You just need to know that...

I love you.

Dad.