Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Your birthday is coming!

"Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time" ~ Jean Paul Richter

My dearest E.,

It is now August, and I am very excited, because your birthday draws nearer (it is in October), and I can't wait to start planning for a little party for you!

We threw a big party last year when you turned 1, with much fanfare, expense and with many guests. How long ago that seemed-you were so much smaller and you could barely walk. This year, for your 2nd birthday, your father and I have decided on a small, intimate affair: a party at our home, with home-made decorations and food: yes, I will cook and prepare a scrumptious meal for your guests!

When you come to my age, birthdays are no longer a big deal: age is just a number. But when you are a child, make the most of your birthdays and parties, because it will be the most wonderful times you will remember when you are an adult.

Miss you like hell

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell" ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

My dearest E.,

I am a weakling, I know I am. I am also a crybaby. Last week on Wednesday, your father had fallen ill with exhaustion . The task of caring for him, of course, fell on me. I was also exhausted because of the lack of sleep, and the decision was made for you to stay over with your grandparents to enable us to recuperate.

I don't have to tell you how terrible I felt that night. Your father and I decided to have a quick dinner outside, and as I sat at the booth there after we had ordered our food, and your father had gone to use the gents', I took out my mobile phone and watched videos of you on it. And felt tears pooling in my eyes when I looked at you. Those lively, carefree, sweet pictures of you. And felt that huge void in my heart. The tears came, faster and faster, I hadn't enough tissues to wipe the streaks that crossed my face.

I wanted to cry and bawl out loud, but I didn't. I continued watching my favourite video of you, dancing to my rendition of London Bridge and Baa Baa Black Sheep, and the tears continued to fall silently into my lap. Your father came back from the gents' and thought something terrible had happened.

And indeed, it was terrible for me, sweetie, to know that when I went to bed that night, you would not be lying beside me, and I would have no one to sing The Sound of Music to.

That pain of missing you filled me throughout the night, I barely slept, and the next day, and finally, when I laid eyes on you on Wednesday evening, my world was complete again.

Today, you have left to go to Port Dickson with your grandparents. I know that I will feel that terrible void again when I go home, so I intend to busy myself and go to the gym with your godmother and Uncle Calvin. I try not to think of your empty bed, with your sweet baby smell lingering in our room. I try not to think of your arms around my neck as you hug and kiss me good night.

You will have a wonderful time in Port Dickson, I know you will. But it doesn't help that I feel this way, and I'm glad, though, that you have no way of knowing now how I truly feel when we are apart. Because mothers are supposed to be strong role models for their children. And I certainly do not want to fail you and be a weak role model, simply because I hate being apart from my beloved daughter.