To my firstborn (25 months)

Dear Aidan,

I am sitting here typing this to you while 32 weeks pregnant with your younger sibling. And it’s a rather bittersweet feeling. Because, as I was telling Papa, we are having so much fun as a family of three, that I feel slightly guilty for changing your world completely.

Oh, I know that you probably won’t remember the years that you spent with just the two of us. You won’t remember just how we would sit on the floor, building towers and trains of bricks with you. You won’t remember how we read Where We Go and Out in the Sun with you every night before bedtime. You won’t remember standing in your learning tower, stirring your yogurt in the kitchen with me. You won’t remember lying with me on the sofa in the evenings, listening to your favourite songs (currently Coldplay’s Viva La Vida, live version, “uncle song with clapping,” you say) while your hand gently sits on my big belly. You won’t remember curling up next to me as you fall asleep, your hand reaching back to hold mine.

Right now, you are the sweetest, sweetest boy in the world. You look up to me as we walk and say “hold mama hand” in your adorable voice. And you kiss and hug us so lovingly and generously. You insist on kissing the baby everyday.

Just the other night, we were out way past your bedtime for the Electric Run. You were sitting in your stroller in that sticky, suffocating heat, quietly absorbing the atmosphere. From time to time, you would call out for mama to seek reassurance.

Meanwhile, mama was feeling miserable. We had been standing for almost an hour just to get to the starting line, and I was irritated by the hot temperature and the crowd. My calves were in spasms, my back was aching, I was this close to losing my temper. And we haven’t even started the 5km walk yet.

I stood by your stroller, bent forward to relieve the ache in my lower back. Tears sprung into my eyes. I felt like a total failure for being a party pooper when everyone else around me was in such high spirits. I just wanted to go home.

And then suddenly, I heard your little voice pipe up, “Mama? Mama?”

I turned to look at you and you were staring at me with those big eyes. You reached out and patted me on the arm. And in that instant, I wanted to cry.

I wish I can encapsulate every moment that we spend with you and you alone. The process of watching you grow up is so magical and beautiful that I wish time wouldn’t move so fast.

But time is indeed flying by. In a blink of an eye, I am 32 weeks pregnant and, as mama’s colleague reminded me today, we could become a family of four in a month’s time. Especially if your little brother or sister has your propensity for arriving into our world ahead of schedule.

When I was waiting for you to join us, I wasn’t afraid. I was ready to face whatever challenges parenthood would bring us. But now, I find myself worried and slightly anxious. Because this time, the change would not only affect us but also you.

I hope that if you ever read this as an adult, know that we love you very much and all we ever want is the best for you. I hope that you will grow to love your sibling and to rely on one another. I hope that you will realise just how important you are to us, as our firstborn and the one who made us parents.

Remember that no matter what, you will always be loved. No matter what.

Love you to the moon and back,
Mama

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