The big 3 months

By Published On: September 18th, 2013

We made it. I never doubted it for a second. […]

Three monthsWe made it. I never doubted it for a second. Sure, there were moments when I sobbed uncontrollably because I had only gotten three hours of interrupted sleep. And, yes, my baby’s fresh-from-the-hospital-colic-induced-screaming left me feeling as helpless as Billy Ray Cyrus watching Miley’s VMA performance. But, we made it—my husband and I made it to the big 3 MONTHS.
I expected a little more, I have to say. I mean, balloons and game show confetti did not magically drop from the ceiling like I had imagined at 4:43 a.m. while bouncing on the exercise ball. (Not for exercise so much, but more to calm my whining newborn.) The Parenting Fairy, the Tooth Fairy’s more adult cousin, once removed, did not leave me a massage coupon under my pillow as a reward. Little E’s three-month birthday quietly came and went as I stared at him and waited for something momentous to happen—just like I did when I was 5-years-old.
When I was five and my younger sister was about to celebrate her first birthday, I knew that she would suddenly sit up, talk, and cook me breakfast. I thought that this birthday milestone would turn her into my perfect playmate. The morning of her birthday, I walked into her room thinking I would see her sit up and hand me my Han Solo action figure ready to take on the Empire. But instead, she was lying in her bed sleeping like she had always done. Nothing had changed. I left her bedroom a sadder but wiser woman.
The five-year-old inside me continues to stare at my now infant son with suspicion. Where are my balloons? Where is all the confetti I was promised? I fell for the glitz believing that at three months I would be sleeping through the night, the bouncing would stop, and my son would come home and demand the car keys. I thought at three months EVERYTHING CHANGED?! That’s what the all the books say. (Well, the two I read, anyway.) How much longer do I have to wait?
Not much longer.
Everything has changed.
Later that day, when my husband was blowing on his stomach, Little E laughed for the first time.
And that’s way better than balloons and confetti.