At 12:49 a.m., Bean turned three months old. Back when the colic was its worst and I was shakiest, Karen had suggested I mark my calendar to note when the fourth trimester ends. It gave me something to look forward to — the magical date that readers, friends, and family all promised would change my life. The improvement happened, not necessarily in one day, but I’m not quibbling!

As I write this, my Petite Eclair is napping in her swing, grinning about something she’s dreaming. Milk? Mommy’s singing? Daddy’s silly faces? She is marvelous. Every day I see changes in her size, appearance, movement, and comprehension.

This weekend we hope to make the transition back to normal formula instead of the “liquid gold” that we’ve been using. We’re introducing the new formula in a 1:3 ratio with a progression of 2:2, then 3:1, and by Monday I hope it’s all plain ol’ formula and her tummy is content and pain-free. She still gets her Zantac twice a day, and this has made all the difference. About a month ago she started taking it willingly. She even smiles when we’re done.

Also, since my mother-in-law is here, I’ve been instituting one nap in her crib. She now has a sleep routine well-established at night. Daddy rocks her until she’s drowsy, places her in the crib, and she falls asleep herself. She sleeps in four-hour stretches, though the middle of the night span has increased to five hours. However, with me she still took all her naps in the swing. I needed someone else during the day to provide moral support during the crying. So here is how it has played out this week.

Tuesday: Bean hardly kept her eyes open while having a snack. I gently put her in the crib and her eyes flew open. I said sweet things and told her to have a good nap. I left the room. Wailing and gnashing of gums ensued. After 13 minutes, I went in to console her for five minutes. (This involves singing, rubbing the belly and head, and patting her leg while she remains in the crib.) She cried throughout this. After five minutes I said I loved her and to have a good nap. Woe and wrath continued. After 15 minutes, I went in for another five minutes of comforting, then left again. About five minutes after that, after the cries were interspersed with quiet moments, she fell asleep — for all of 20 minutes. However, that was success! When she woke, I retrieved her, and we went back to playing.

Wednesday: Bean had a little milk and was rocked; she was drowsy but awake when I put her down. After the usual good wishes, I left the room. She was silent for 15 minutes, and then realized, Hey, where’d Mommy go? I’m alone in here! Crying and protesting began. I did one cycle of waiting, then one of consoling, and mid-way in the second cycle of crying she fell asleep for 25 minutes.

Thursday: Bean fell asleep at the bottle. (We go to her room, where it’s quiet, to drink and rock a bit.) I oh-so-carefully laid her in the crib, and she stayed asleep. Her catnap lasted 35 minutes.

Friday: She was again drowsy at the bottle. I laid her down barely awake. She stirred slightly and began to cry. I left the room; the wait time for this day was 15 minutes before checking. About 30 seconds before I was going to go in, she fell quiet. I could hear breathing on the monitor. She was asleep! And she slept for 45 minutes.

We’re learning together.

I’m really glad my MIL is here, because I was tempted each day to scoop Bean out of the crib and just put her in the swing again. But getting her accustomed to a nap in her crib means she can safely sleep while I do tasks in other parts of the house. She needs to learn how to soothe herself as well. Her other two naps — early morning and late morning — still happen in the swing, and they tend to be 2-3 hours long. Eventually we’ll get there. Oh, one other funny note: at night, sometimes after she’s put in her crib, she starts moaning. It’s not protest crying. It’s a little whiny in tone; she does this for a number of minutes (usually while sucking on her fingers) until she falls asleep. I’ve decided it’s her When Harry Met Sally pre-sleep routine.

[Casablanca ends with “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”]
Harry: Mmm, best last line of a movie ever.
Sally: Hmm….
Harry: I’m definitely coming down with something. Probably a twenty-four hour tumor; they’re going around.
Sally: You don’t have a tumor.
Harry: How do you know?
Sally: If you’re so worried go see a doctor.
Harry: No, he’ll just tell me it’s nothing.
Sally: Will you be able to sleep?
Harry: If not I’ll be OK.
Sally: What will you do?
Harry: I’ll stay up moan. May be I should practice now. (moans….)
Sally: Goodnight Harry.
Harry: Goodnight.

(Both hang up the phone)

(Sally’s light is out)

(Harry keeps moaning… and eventually lights out)

I’ve been signing the word milk to her whenever she seems to be hungry. I say the word in a questioning voice with my eyebrows raised and make the sign. I do this several times and then get the bottle. I hold the bottle in one hand, make the sign with other, and ask the question: Milk? She watches my hand. She responds to the question by wriggling, kicking, and nearly panting. At some point around 6-9 months (or later, I don’t care) she might start making the sign herself to request milk. I’ll gradually introduce other signs over time.

Have I mentioned how adorable she is? And how beautifully, intricately marvelous? Happy third month, sweet Bean!