milestones

If you want to feel like your little girl is a lot less little, simply put her in a crib.

We made the transition from Edith sleeping in a cosleeper next to our bed to sleeping in a crib in the nursery rather suddenly last week. I was changing the sheet in her cosleeper when I noticed mold on one side of the mattress.

That was the end of that. We’ve had rough luck with mold here in Portland: We moved out of our last house when I was in the second trimester after we set out a few mold test kits and watched a colorful and varied array of specimens grow. Mold just wasn’t something we wanted to mess around with.

So that night, we got ready to put Edith down in the crib that had, up to that point, been just a landing pad for stuffed animals and laundered onesies that needed to be put away.

I didn’t feel ready. The decision to change her sleeping routine felt forced upon us. I had slept with her within an arm’s reach of me since she was born, and a whole room’s distance felt very far.

So that first night, Eric and I blew up the air mattress and slept in the nursery next to the crib. (I know. It sounds ridiculous. But still.)

Edie did great: She woke up at her usual time, and I nursed her in the rocking chair. She was unfazed.

The second night we slept in our own bed. I got up fewer than a hundred times to check on her, so I count it as a success.

Since then, the nursery bedtime process has become routine. She even naps in her crib—at least sometimes.

Edith is napping in the crib as I type this. When I sneak into the nursery to peek at her, she looks so much older than the newborn photos we have stuck to the fridge. She’s even busting out of the swaddle sacks we have. At the same time, she is a tiny bundled caterpillar in the wide expanse of mattress.

Unlike some parents I hear, I don’t want Edith to freeze at any stage. She’s growing, and that’s a marvelous thing to witness. As she reaches new milestones, I’m grateful to be here with her, in awe of this small—but getting bigger—wonder.

The other day I was cleaning the kitchen and came across photos I printed when Edith was just a week old. I put two of them up on the fridge—one of her sleeping in just a diaper, showing off the scab of her umbilical cord, and the other of her biting Eric’s nose when she was hungry. I look at them now whenever I open the freezer and marvel at how much our baby has changed.

Yesterday Edith turned three months old—a quarter of a year.

The last month has been a fun one for her development. Last week we had a play date with other mama-baby duos from our mom’s group. She spent most of the afternoon sleeping (a rarity) but must have been inspired by the other babies, most of whom are older. That night, Edith rolled over again and again during tummy time. She rolls in stages: first her top half slumps over, then her hips and legs follow.

Since then, she rolls at will. The freedom and control seem to have changed her antipathy toward tummy time. She’s also interested in the toys hanging from her play mat and—occasionally—in the mirror. Every so often she’ll look at herself and smile.

The best new development this month was Edith’s first laugh. When I change her diaper, we spend a few minutes hanging out while she’s on her back. This is the time she’s most talkative these days, and I love her cooing and gurgling. Her sounds crack me up, and I swoon for her grins. All my laughter must have seemed funny to her because she laughed, too! I haven’t heard a giggle since, but I can’t wait to make her laugh again and again.

Edie is now moving—rolling, perhaps?—toward new changes. She still loves to face out and look at the world. I’m learning that is her personality: She seems to want to meet new experiences head-on. I can only imagine she’ll encounter her next milestones with a smile—and maybe even a laugh.

Now that Edith is two months old, I think of her as a big girl. The changes that have happened in the last month sure seem to make it that way: She’s vastly different than 30 days ago.

I vividly recall when the midwife placed Edith Mae, purple and screaming, on my chest immediately after her birth. How big and scary the world must have been. She was accustomed to her cozy, warm home inside me for 40 weeks; so much space, light and sound surely felt alien.

Now Edie wants to explore her surroundings. When we took a family walk the other night, she began to scream when Eric put her in the carrier. As soon as he took her out and held her, though, she quieted. She spent the next 20 minutes staring at the trees, the sky and the pattern of light filtering through the leaves.

At home it’s much the same. About a week ago, she changed from a happy baby as long as she was being held to screaming unless she was carried face-out. And the view isn’t enough; the scenery must constantly change. I probably walk miles by pacing our two-bedroom apartment every day. And if that fails, I just take her out on the balcony. I don’t know if it’s the fresh air or the sound of cars going by, but this child loves the outdoors.

As she grows up and wants to take in the world, she spends much less time cuddled on my chest. I know it’s silly, but I miss her frog-legged snuggles with her head tucked just below my chin. So when she does fall asleep that way, I savor it. I don’t get any work done, but I’m past caring. (Usually.) Her head is the perfect distance for kissing, and I take advantage of that, too.