Why I told people my baby was difficult and why I stopped

Boy, did I have this coming. Baby Felix plays super-sweet for everyone then screams in my face when no one is around. Still, I don't call him difficult. I learned that lesson with Amos, as I shared in this post originally published on Salt + Nectar a few months after Amos was born. 

At first, you just want sympathy. Your baby is being difficult and you just want to talk about how hard of a time you are having. It starts innocently enough. Then, you realize you're sharing more stories about the stress your baby brings, instead of the joy.

Sometimes I wonder if Amos ever had a chance. Griffin was such a good baby that I convinced myself there was no way I could get that lucky twice. Nicholas tried to remind me that Griffin wasn't always a walk in the park but, for some reason, I only have rosy memories of him cooing and never crying.

So, when Amos and I got off to a rough start, I just knew all my worst fears had been confirmed. He was going to be my difficult child. He seemed to squirm more than Griffin. He wouldn't really let you hold him. He spit up all the time and screamed his head off in the car (still does that, actually). And I told anyone who would listen about our trials and tribulations.

But then I noticed he started to get a bit of a reputation.

All of a sudden other people started seeing him as difficult and that stopped me dead in my tracks. I wanted people to listen to me, but it never occurred to me that it would affect how they saw my precious boy.

It broke my heart that people didn't see this wonderful creature, especially as his little personality just started developing. And it made me miserable that I might have been the cause of their preconceived notions. After all, nobody wants assumptions made about their child, especially negative ones.

I wanted everyone to think Amos was the most amazing baby to ever walk the planet Earth because, despite my bitching, that's how I feel.

But the truth is I can't blame others for something I was doing myself. I had decided that my second child was going to be difficult so difficulty was all I saw.

Well, no longer. Amos deserves to write his own story, not have me write it for him. He might scream his head off in his car seat, but he also sleeps through the night. At the slightest smile, he gets the biggest sweetest baby grin you've ever seen in your life.

And he laughs! Oh, does he laugh.

I won't say I'll never complain again. I'll have difficult days. We all do.

But no more difficult children. I don't have any of those.