Two years ago, I was doing the final check on the bag I had packed for the hospital stay. I told Baby Megan MaMa will see her in a few days’ time. I was calm and composed. I knew what was coming and I was fully prepared for the birth.
What I was not prepared for was the the journey Megan has taken me along the path of parenthood so far. This little baby, who defied the advice from the experts and books, slept exceptionally well on her stomach from 2 weeks old. The baby who cried from 12 to 3am every night for almost the whole first month.
The gal who is fiercely independent, and insists on feeding herself messily rather than seek help. The gal who could put on her own clothes (loosely interpreted) at 23 months, and could hold a crayon and colour reasonably well.
The gal who until now, cannot hold a proper conversation and has difficulty comprehending us on many occasions. But this little gal makes up by being able to read facial expressions and body language well, and knows how to offer hugs and kisses when we’re angry, or sad. This little gal who says “Peas” and “Xie Xie” most of the time, who greets me “MaMa Dao” (good morning) every morning, and says “MaMa, MumMum” at mealtimes.
She drives me crazy with her messy and greedy eating habits. She screams and shouts, and throws fierce tantrums. She sprawls on the floor when she doesn’t get her way, but is quick to catch up when we walk away. She walks on tip toes, and I have to remind her to walk properly every 10 seconds.
Despite everything, this lithe, prancing little dynamo is my darling gal, and I love her to bits. She is the final anchor in my family, and she guides my heart home every day.
Happy sweet Two Megan! From Mummy, with lots of love.