Oliver is 3 months old today. According to Boots and Tesco parenting club stuff I got in the post this week, that means he’s not a newborn anymore. Well, he’s certainly very different from that teeny mewling thing we brought home from the hospital 13 weeks ago!
This month, he started to laugh (at the beginning of the month), particulary for me. In fact, he can’t stop smiling, which apparently is hilarious for the both of us, plus helps me get through the day. He’s so insistent on standing or sitting and staring at things with the widest eyes, with our faces, Piper and the colour red being the current favourites. He doesn’t know what Piper is yet, but he knows she is around and he’s trying to figure it out. He also started going for about 6.5 or 7 hour stretches through the night most nights, which is fantastic. Except of course when sleeping in a hotel room but I forgive him for that.
On Tuesday, he got weighed at baby clinic after his second set of immunizations, and he’s up to 14 pounds. And I’m not in trouble for that like I thought I would be. My health visitor happened to be hosting the clinic and it was really nice to catch up with her as she hadn’t seen us since about 6 weeks or something.
She was pleasantly surprised to hear that I was still combination feeding him, as I don’t think either of us thought that I would still be breastfeeding at all this far along. I think I gradually came to terms with it, though never enjoying it – the combination works because it means that when he’s hungry I don’t have to be around (someone else can do it) or I don’t have to breastfeed him in public, yet he’s still getting the benefits of the breastmilk. I’m always slightly paranoid, however, that it’s just going to run out one of these days as I clearly don’t have buckets of the stuff in reserve, and he’s going longer between feeds (particularly at night), but it’ll be okay when it does happen as he has had a good start.