Dear Tiny Human,
A couple of nights ago, your dad had his hand on my tummy and whispered something to you that made me want to cry.
You’re the only bright spark in my life that I am looking forward to.
He’s having a tough time, your dad, and it’s hard because I don’t know what I can do to help. But I know that we will get through this together, just as we always do.
But his words sparked off something in me. It made me realise just how much your arrival is being anticipated by people.
Both your dad and I have been wishing and hoping for your arrival for more than two years.
Your grandma has been praying for a grandchild for the past 10 years, so much so that she made it a point to announce loudly to every household that we visited over the Lunar New Year: “My little Dragon will be here next year, all of you had better prepare your red packets for him.”
Your grandpa just went through a tough surgery and your birth will undoubtedly bring him some cheer.
It scares me.
The pressure that’s on your little unborn shoulders is simply too much. You are just one child.
I should be happy that the family is rallying behind your arrival but sometimes, I want to protect you from the burden of being the only baby in the family. Everybody has expectations of you and I do hate it so sometimes. Also, I want to raise you to be a good, filial, kind, happy, independent child, not someone who is spoilt silly and constantly cooed over. I want to be the sort of mother who will let you find your own way and fall down, but I will be there to dust your knees and help you up, should you need me to. I don’t want anyone to be hovering around you 24/7, turning you into a timid, pampered little brat.
I don’t know how things will be like when you are born but I am hopeful that we will be able to strike a good balance. We will have the first four months of your birth to hit our stride and find our style. And then it’s a matter of communicating how we would like you to be brought up to your caregivers.
In the meantime, I am enjoying having you all by myself in my belly. I know that it’s a bit of a squeeze right now but hang in there, you will be exiting your watery home in no time. And then it’s going to be such a strange world that you will be experiencing! No food to be given to you intravenously; instead, a boob will be shoved into your face and you will need to learn to suckle for your survival. The temperature in your environment will not be regulated, your naked bits will be covered up by things called clothes and there will be lots and lots of people making funny faces at you and expecting you to respond.
It’s a whole new world, baby!
And your dad and I are looking forward to exploring it with you.