Oh! What a difference a few weeks makes! Oscar has reached his first age milestone – he's now three months old. People had been telling me and assuring me that things would get easier – his crying would reduce, he would start to giggle and laugh as well as smile, his sleeping would increase and that we would finally start to get something back from him in the way of interaction.
In my darkest moments, I really did curse these well meaning busybodies (for that is how I saw them, and saw myself reflected as a simple failure, unable to cope with the pressure of a newborn baby), but, over the past week, it is as if the muddy clouds have been blown away, to reveal a sunny, happy baby who is intent on charming his little way into our hearts.
A few mornings ago whilst changing his nappy in the dawn light, I suddenly realised with a bittersweet pang that I am completely, wholeheartedly and utterly besotted and in love with this baby. My baby. Everything about him makes me happy.
Here are 10 things I love about my baby:
I love the way he stretches his whole body, with all of his being, his legs straightened and taut, his fists clenched and his arms held strong above his head when I unzip his sleeping bag in the morning.
I love his little infectious giggle when I blow a raspberry on his soft little tummy.
I love the back of his head, especially when he holds it up when I place him on his tummy on the play mat. The way he looks around and moves his neck reminds me a bit of E.T.
I love that in the morning, after his first feed in our bed, he hums and aaahs and almost sings a little tune to the world, like an ode to how much he loves being alive, right here, right now.
I love the way he wriggles excitedly when I take off his nappy and playsuit, delighted to be naked and feel the air on his skin.
I love how he rubs his eyes with both fists when he's getting tired, and yawns, his mouth wide and gums exposed, and then closes it again, tight, like a trap.
I love the way he suddenly grins, as wide as his whole face for exactly one second, the very moment he falls asleep.
I love the way he ducks his head, his huffing and puffing becoming more frantic when he is about to latch on to breastfeed. And his deep sigh of relief and comfort when he reaches his target.
And yes, I even love him when he cries, more than ever, because all I want to do is hold him, and comfort him, and make him stop sobbing and giggle again.
This, I know, is a biological imperative – he is of course designed to be loveable, especially to be loved by me. But I don't care. I can finally see what all the fuss is about and I love him for being the one to show me.
Catch up on previous weeks of Big Mouth for Mummy here.