The first three months of a baby’s life are often called the fourth trimester. As Eloise approaches three months of age, I now understand why. I knew she would need me close, but I had no idea how much I would also need her. Turns out sharing a body does not end quickly. However, with each passing day, little pieces of her independence (and mine) are beginning to shine through.
I can feel the fourth trimester closing.
Sure, she still needs me and I still need her, but she is beginning to look around, to turn her head and follow other people around the room. The colic has mysteriously disappeared in the last week and now I am able to put her to sleep around 9PM, leaving me with a couple hours untethered. Instead of the sleepy bundle, she is now alert and in search of external stimulation, babbling a mystical language I wish I could understand.
Our newborn has become a baby.
During my pregnancy and the early days of her life, I gobbled up literature on attachment parenting. I envisioned myself floating around the house with my sweet baby in a variety of baby carriers. I imagined harmonious co-sleeping. It all seemed so natural. But Eloise was not like the babies Dr. Sears describes. She demanded to be close but only tolerated her carriers for short stretches at specific times of day. She slept fitfully beside me but peacefully in her bedside bassinet for the majority of the night.
While strategic use of the carriers and a few hours of co-sleeping each morning have been integral to our first few months, they have not dominated our time together in the way I expected. Instead, she has mostly preferred to be directly in my arms, forcing me to get creative about housework and other tasks. At first I fought it, but then I settled into holding her much of the day, acutely aware of the fleeting time this would last.
Month three has heightened my awareness of time. She has transformed from a tiny newborn in premie jammies to a baby who suddenly fits her three-month clothes. There are only two more inches between her feet and the edge of the bassinet. She now throws her body forward and from side to side to show you where she wants to go. Her eyes watch movement with the kind of envy that tells you she cannot wait to run and dance everywhere she goes.
There are just so many little things I don’t want to forget. Like her smelly little hands from shoving them in her milky mouth all the time, or when her grandfather drove her around for thirty minutes so we could watch her auntie’s scene in a play, or how I finally discovered a way to safely sleep while holding her in my big blue chair. I want to tell her someday how her grandmother walked her through the Shasta forest, chanting like a monk because it was the only way to quiet her, and how her dog Odin would sleep with his body pressed up against the base of her basinet, ready to tell us when she stirred.
This month has sealed our bond. I loved her beyond words the moment I first saw her, but now I know her, too. Every time I put her down or let someone else take over, I marvel at her when she is in my arms again. My growing, changing daughter. Month three, while not always easy, has been powerful magic.
I had no idea bliss could be so simple.
This is such a brilliant way to log all of these memories so Eloise can read them one day :). Beautiful baby, beautifully written!
Thanks love, I’m excited for her to know how much we enjoyed her as a baby! 😀
She is just beautiful and I am so glad the colic has ended!! It’s going to be an amazing summer, my friend!!! Enjoy!
Thanks Melanie, I am so relieved! Wishing you an equally amazing summer!
Beautiful!!! As usual, you have gracefully captured a complex experience to share with all of us. So glad the colic has faded and that you are loving motherhood. Hope to see you and that gorgeous little one soon. 🙂
Thanks Melinda, hope to see you and your growing little dude too!! We’ll let you know if/when we make it to the bay.
Beautiful and this blog and wherever else you write down your thoughts and feelings will ensure that you never lose these memories. I love this: “Her eyes watch movement with the kind of envy that tells you she cannot wait to run and dance everywhere she goes.” I remember those moments as well with mine, even if it is almost 20 years later. Watching their eyes move and wondering what they’re thinking. I think you’re right — she’s thinking she can’t wait.
Makes me happy to hear you remember many of the same things twenty years later 😀
Oh, there are plenty of things I’ve forgotten, but there are still enough memories in there for me to remember the wonder and amazement of them when they were little.
It’s such an amazing time, enjoy every minute of it!
Thanks Jeffo, really trying to appreciate every little bit!