To Stella, Three Months Old

Dear Stella,

I’m not really sure what other three month olds are like but whenever you do something new, like grab your rattle, shake it, and attempt to stick it in your mouth I feel pretty sure that you are the first person under two feet tall to perform such a feat.

Tomorrow you are officially three months old. I must confess that in the past 94 days I have been transformed. Not only from a selfish fuck into a mother but in little ways I never could have imagined. Who knew how much pleasure could be derived from staring for hours at a single object (that’s me staring at you not you staring at the tv which you would do if we let you watch it but we don’t because tv is bad, very bad) or that it was possible to wake up everyday before nine and not be a total grouch? I had no idea that getting you to giggle would make me feel like Isaac Newton watching the apple fall from that tree. When I blow raspberries on your bare stomach, you erupt in the most gleeful giggles. You have also been known to do this when you see the water running in the tub and know that it is bath time. Your father thinks we should just stop taking you out of the house and alternate between these two activities endlessly. I think you would be annoyed at us when all your friends are going to college and we are still running you back and forth between the changing table and the bathroom. On second thought, if we take up Dad's suggestion you will never have the opportunity to make friends and won't know what you are missing. That's a way we could make sure that you never up and leave us, a fear that grows in me with each passing day as I am forced to acknowledge how much you have already changed and how short this little life of ours actually is. Have I already known you for 94 whole days? I am filled with more love than I thought possible. I didn’t know my heart was this big. You truly are the most amazing creature I ever laid eyes on and I simply cannot believe that you are mine.

You are definitely in the oral stage. You’ve discovered how to suck your thumb and occasionally opt instead to suck your entire fist, or sometimes both of them. This is something to behold. And the drool, oh my, the drool. I didn’t know so much liquid could pour forth from such a little mouth. Maybe you are teething already. We don’t really know. Regardless, I don’t mind wiping your face ten thousand times an hour. And don’t worry, I won’t put an ugly bib on you and make you go outside. I’d rather change your shirt continuously than have you be anything short of a fashion icon.

Our breastfeeding relationship has evolved quite well and it constantly amazes me that you are able to survive on nothing but breastmilk. Apparently, though, it is working. You’ve already grown more than three inches and gained over five pounds. Lots of your little clothes don’t fit anymore even though it is hard for me to admit this and I have not yet taken them out of your room. Once or twice I have dressed you in something I know is too small just for the opportunity to see you in it one last time. I hope you weren't too uncomfortable. I think I'm already having a hard time accepting that you are growing up. But, indeed, you are the very essence of thriving. The first two weeks of breastfeeding were pretty much hell. The pain was so overwhelming I thought you were trying to bite my nipples off. But I was determined to stick it out and make it work even in those dark days when I thought no way will this ever feel anywhere near natural. But behold, here we are. Now I don’t even care (that much) that my boobs make Pamela Andersons look teeny. It is worth it and has become that amazing bonding thing you hear about. When you are eating you get very serious and concentrate really hard. It is quite a feeling to know that I am taking care of you and I am already anticipating how sad I’ll be when it is time to stop. I hope that you do not inherit my uncanny ability to worry about things that are far in the future and unavoidable.

I want to take a moment to thank you for being such a rockstar during your first experiences with air travel. I took you to Chicago for the weekend when you were two months old and then Dad and I took you to San Diego. It was very nice of you not to disturb the people sitting around us. Even though we had planned not to use a pacifier with you, I brought one along because I heard (from the internet) that it would be good for your ears if you sucked on something during the altitude changes. I have to give it up to whoever invented that little plastic device because the pacifier totally worked. So now we use it from time to time to shut you up, I mean soothe you. The truth is, you rarely need shutting up.

Dad and I are well-aware that we lucked out big time. Not only are you so cute that we could totally whore you out as a Baby Gap model and thus retire to our own island in the Carribbean next year but also if you look up yogababy in the dictionary, there is a picture of you. You are the calmest most content little girl. All new parents become obsessed with the sleep habits of their baby. Yours have been pretty damn good from the start. Now you are sleeping about ten hours generally waking only once about ¾ of the way through. You make lots of really cute sounds, grunts, whimpers, yelps, snorts. And you are totally talking now too. You've got the vowel sounds down like nobody's business.

You’ve been smiling since you were about six weeks old but it is only more recently that you really smile in response to someone. When I hear you rustling around in your bassinet at 7am, I peer over the edge of the bed and wait to catch your eye. When I do, you invariably flash the biggest, toothless grin. Now that is something to behold.














You seem very curious. Grandpa Paul loves to walk around with you and point out different things around the apartment. He says you are remarkably attentive. Yup, no doubt about it, you are very advanced for your age.

By the way, everyone says you look just like your father which, for the record, is fine by me.

Love,
Mommy

p.s. Usually before you start to cry, you give us a little advance warning. Here is some photographic evidence: