Three months.

Posted by Heather on June 3, 2011 · 2 Comments 

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You’re 3-months-old today, little one. Three months! And in those three months, we’ve grown so much together, you and I. You’ve taught me tenderness and patience. You’ve given me meaning and a deep new confidence. Shown me I can be both grounded and light.  How strange and unexpected that you would come into the world and teach me how to feel free.

Since March, you’ve gained 4 pounds. Developed a very strong neck. And strong legs – even at your first week check-up the nurses commented on how strong your legs were! (The better to kick me with when you’re impatient to eat.) Your little face and wrinkley little fingers have plumped out. You look less like a little bird. You’ve gotten so much bigger in 3 months – you’re still a very lean little baby, but starting to look like the little boy you will grow into.

Particularly your eyes. From the day you were born, people said you look like a thinker. Earnest eyes, a steady gaze. Looking at you up close, I sometimes forget that you’re just a baby.

About 6 weeks ago you started smiling. And now you smile a lot. You’re a very happy baby. I was so jealous when I saw you smile at your dad for the first time. But now I get smiles every day. And your silent, hysterical baby laugh – you think the world is just a riot. It is. Don’t forget that sentiment.

Just now you dozed off laying next to me on the couch, but woke yourself up  giggling in your sleep.

In the last week or so you’ve taken a particular interest in verbal communication. You make utterances like “gah!” and I repeat your “word” back to you, with different enunciations (gah? gaAhh…). You love this. So much fun. I’m validating your “language.” You giggle and kick your little legs and spew out ever more complex strings of jibberish for me to repeat back to you.

Over the course of the last 3 months, we’ve established some little routines:

In the morning sometimes we sing along to the lullabye station I’ve created for you on Pandora. Our favorites are You Are My Sunshine, Rainbow Connection, Here Comes the Sun, and of course, anything by the Beatles.

And sometimes we go to baby yoga on Sundays. You seem to enjoy that. Lots of other babies to look at. Sun salutation is fun. Not a tremendous workout for me, but it’s a fun activity for us to do together.

You love going for walks.  We’ve been taking walks together with the dog since you were a week old, curled up in the sling. At first the motion conked you out and you slept while we walked. But lately you’re staying awake, eyes wide, neck outstretched watching the world above you, trees and shadows and sun and barking dogs. Lots of barking dogs.

Of course, you’re also happy just sitting outside in your bouncy chair. Watching us in the garden, listening to the birds and the wind rustling the bamboo. It’s good to love the outdoors. I’ve always found it soothing too.

You and the cats don’t have much of a relationship, but you’ve developed a good rapport with the dog. You tolerate getting your face and head licked again and again – it’s because you taste like milk, you know. You’re not really so keen on it, but you endure it quietly. A lesser baby would howl. But not you. You’re a good-natured kid. You really only howl when you’re hungry or wet. The rest you take in stride.

Today you managed to grip your pacifier and direct it back into your mouth. You were very proud of yourself. You looked up at me with a big grin: look what I can do!

We’ve also established a bedtime ritual. A few weeks ago we started putting you to sleep in your own room. So around 7:30 or 8 we nestle down in the rocking chair and nurse. Sometimes I read aloud to you from the New Yorker. You aren’t particularly interested in the stories about the açaí fad or the situation in Syria, but the cadence of a well-written New Yorker story makes for good out-loud reading, and I know the little language receptors in your brain are going crazy right about now. You usually doze off nursing, and I wake you carrying you to your crib. And then I say, “Is it swaddle time?” And you get excited and smiley in anticipation. You love your swaddle.

You’re getting pretty good at sleeping through the night. Almost. You still like for your dad to feed you around 2 and again at 4. But otherwise you sleep pretty soundly. I can’t resist going to your room during the night and standing silently over the crib watching you sleep. I love the way you splay your little legs out like a baby frog. And when you wake up in the morning, you’re full of smiles, a happy, happy baby.

Is it odd to say that your mastery of being a baby impresses me? You are supremely good at everything that being a baby requires. (Save for “tummy time,” which is a little frustrating for you.) I marvel at your little baby confidence, and wonder what’s the chance that you might carry that ease of being with you through life? I’ll do my best, little one, to fan your confidence and self-esteem so that you might walk surer and lighter through the world than I have.

The 3-month marker is bittersweet for me. I’ve loved this open, structureless time so, so much. But now our time together is about to change. I’ll be going back to work next week. But you’re lucky, because you’ll get to spend your days home with your dad. And your dad is fun. And you and me, we’ll just change our pattern to morning and evening rituals: we’ll go for two walks a day, morning and evening, and we’ll have deep, meaningful conversations in jibberish, and then before bed we’ll read the New Yorker together. Or Vanity Fair. Or, when you start understanding the words I’m reading, one of the fun children’s books waiting for you in your bookcase. And then I’ll wake you up early in the morning, so we have lots of time before work, and we’ll sit together in the french doors and greet the day together.

Isn’t it sweet, being a baby? It certainly has been for me.

Happy three-month birthday, little bird!

Filed under 2011