We don't have a happy baby.
This isn't the sort of thing that you're meant to say, I'm well aware of that. And it's especially not the answer that people want to hear (particularly strangers) when they ask, "is she a good baby?"
That's a question that annoys me more than most other parenting related questions (yes, even more so than the classic, "is she self-soothing yet?" or the ever-so patronizing, "you've got mum wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"). What even is a good baby? One that doesn't have any needs to be met an inconvenient times? One that self-cleans like those fancy blenders? Anyway, I digress.
Our baby, well now toddler, has never been what you'd typically call a happy baby.
From day dot until she was 3-4 months old, she screamed inconsolably for hours every day. It took us three doctors until we finally found one that didn't brush us off and then diagnosed her with silent reflux. But that's a story for another day. Since then, however, she's definitely become a lot less screamy, but she's definitely never been happy-go-lucky.
Her default temperament has always been grizzly or fussy, or whatever other word you want to use. She is happy sometimes and these moments are so beautifully blissful, but they don't happen all too often. When we go out people comment on how "well behaved," (blergh, it makes me so uncomfortable that toddlers are expected to be little robots) she is, but really we know that her clinging to us and staring at them isn't an indication of "good behavior," but rather of her holding it all in until she feels safe.
She won't go to anyone willingly, aside from my husband or I. And of my husband and I, it's me who she wants 80% of the time. Being needed so relentlessly is something I wasn't prepared for.
At home, she's grizzly most of the time. And it's hard, a lot of the time. I wish I could stick earplugs in sometimes. And I wish I had quadruple the patience.
I literally can't make stand up or take one step or make breakfast or take a sock off the washing line without her crying and clinging to my legs. It makes getting things done really tricky, because I do have to get these things done otherwise none of us will have anything to eat or any clean clothes to wear. Very occasionally, she'll be occupied with drawing or something for two minutes and I'll marvel at how quickly I can hang up washing with two hands and no constant whining.
When I am fully present with her, it still doesn't seem to make her that happy. It kind of feels like I need to be carrying her, standing up, at all times, otherwise anything is subpar. And it's been this way for her whole life.
She's my first. My first teacher of this regard. She's not what my husband and I expected at all, but she's exactly what we needed. To challenge us. To help us grow. We were given the exact little person that we need to love.
My internet wanderings have taken me down a path of searching for other children like her, and their families too, and how they cope. There's a few different names for these special souls. Spirited children. Highly sensitive children. Orchid children. They all resonate with our daughter.
It's important to recognize though that the challenge isn't her temperament or her larger-than-life emotions, but rather my way of coping and responding to them. I want to be very clear that she isn't the problem here. The problem is that I'm human and trying to learn how to be her parent.
Although happy isn't a word I would use to describe her, just like most other highly sensitive kiddos, her personality really is wonderful. She's fiery, determined, and bold. She's extremely loving, attached, and sweet. She's also fiercely driven to learning how to do things for herself. She's empathetic and funny. She's larger-than-life, really.
Here's to growing into the best parent I can be for my unhappy, beautiful love.
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