My 29th; My 1st as a Mother
About a couple of hours before the midnight of my birthday, my baby caught herself a slight fever as a side-effect from the immunization jab she had earlier. And the hours then on saw me pacing about the room watching her every other minute with a broken heart. It was the first time she fell sick, and the first time my heart broke in that kind of way.
It was at 4am in between the bleary wakefulness that I realized how frequently she has gotten up this night as compared to the nights before. My eyes were tired, but my heart wasn't. As much as I'd love a good sleep, I wanted so much more to embrace her, to soothe her, to protect her, and to yank away all the discomfort that was bothering her. Somewhere in between this mighty need to protect my baby, I began to realize that this night was possibly a gift. No, I wasn't reveling in the idea of her being sick. Not the least bit. But I believed God gifted this night for me on my birthday, as a night to revel in the immense love I am able to feel as a mother. As an opportunity to mother my baby even further. As a glimpse of how much more this heart could love in the long and hard (yet unexplainably fulfilling) road of motherhood. The night was, unmistakably, a beautiful gift.
When daylight came, I stretched away in all corners of gratefulness as I felt my baby's temperature coming down and then saw her finally sleeping soundly. I was squinting in between the morning sunlight when I noticed something on my baby's changing table seeming quite foreign. Before my sleep-deprived mind could process it any further, I broke into tears.
Over possibly the past decade, I had dreamt of owning a fully-functioning typewriter for my poems. And if I had a choice, the typewriter would be in pastel pink. And over that past decade as well, telling myself that I had other priorities to spend on, I left the dream only as just that - a dream. And that was that. For a decade and not anymore.
There, sitting in front of my squinting eyes, was my dream coming true. A pastel pink typewriter that looked better than the one in my dreams. Because this one had an added extra - a beautiful typed message from my husband and my baby. And so the morning witnessed me breaking into tears.
If I thought the day had moved me beautifully enough, I thought wrong. It continued to greet me joyously with love. With the presence of the people I love most.
I spent the day with my husband, my baby, my beautiful parents and my sister who came all the way from Ipoh, a gorgeous momma-and-baby birthday cake they surprised me with, my mother's smile, and the loveliest breezy after-rain air embracing us.
But most of all, I spent the day with gratitude.
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