3 months

Dear Jack, my little Goose,

Today you are 3 months old. I vacillate between feeling like there is just no way, these 90 days or so have flown by, and a distinct feeling like there almost was no life before you. Of course there was, and of course I remember it - but distantly, like a photograph that jogs a memory I didn't quite hold on to. There is no before and after, really. The fluidity is surprising. Maybe I was always your mama, and I just had to be born, too.

Enough about me. At three months, you are such a fun kid. You started laughing about two weeks ago and heaven help me if it isn't the most delightful thing. It's so spontaneous (though yes, I try to draw it out) and rumbles up from your belly. It's a little goofy, too. I kind of hope it stays that way. Your Dad laughs really loudly and it's one of my favorite things about him. You're a happy kid, most often content to take in your surroundings and be loved on. I hope this contentment stays with you, too.

Over the last month, you have grown a lot and started drooling. You love to blow spit bubbles and the neck of your onesie seems to be constantly drenched. You've figured those things attached to your arms are your hands and you like to clasp them together and try to eat them. In fact, you're a bit quieter now that you've always got some fingers or a knuckle in your mouth. You've also started grabbing your feet and I'm pretty sure they'll be in your mouth soon.

Your hair is fuzzy and sticks straight up like a buzzcut. Your eyes are brighter and brighter blue. Your smile is broad and encompasses your entire face. As your great-grandmother puts it, you "smile with your eyes." I may apologize one day for passing onto you my enormous cheeks, but for now they are the perfect little parentheses around your grin.

You're just plain delightful. See?



I'll end with an excerpt from the letter I wrote when you were a 3 month old fetus. When I read it now, it means so much more:

...most of the time I'm thinking about how much I love you and how I'll do anything to give you a good life - even though that means some sacrifices. But sacrifice is the wrong word - it implies that I'm letting go of something I love. There will be changes of many kinds, but we gain, in you, tomorrow. You beckon us into a new era, a rich one. We follow you there gladly.

Love,

Mama