A difficult time

As a mother, my job is to take care of what is possible and trust God with the impossible ~ Ruth Bell Graham

My dearest E.,

My joy after having played with you extensively last night was short-lived when it was time to take you up to bed. You were rather docile at first, allowing me to take you upstairs. You twirled a strand of my hair around your little fingers as I walked up, carrying you against my left hip and clutching a big bottle of milk and another smaller one of warm water in my right hand. When we walked into our bedroom, your mouth formed into a perfect little 'O' and you said, "Whoo...." You always say that when we go up to bed. Sometimes, it's a happy whoo...sometimes, it's not, when you're still full of energy and want to play, but have been hindered by your mother, who insists that you must go to bed by 10 p.m.

You settled on my bed and through sheer laziness, refused to hold your own bottle. I lay beside you, brushing the tiny baby hairs off your forehead as you fed. You drank 4 ozs of milk, a big disappointment to me because your grandfather told me you refused to have any milk throughout the day. You ranted and raved angrily when I tried to give you more, and with one quick, sweeping motion of your hand, you knocked the bottle off my hand and a slow steady stream of milk trickled onto the bedsheets.

What a mess that was. And what a nightmare just beginning.

I could do nothing right. You howled, cried, threw tantrums, screamed. I could not lay you down onto our bed even before you would start crying. You wriggled, twisted, flailed your arms, kicked out at me everytime I picked you up and held you against me to soothe you. When you finally allowed me to lie you down in my arms beside me, I patted your little bum, all the while shushing-shushing you into quietness. Mommy's here. Mommy loves you. There's nothing to be afraid of. Tell me what's wrong, pumpkin. Mommy's here.

You continued crying. Sat up in bed and wrung your hands. Pulled at your hair and ears angrily. Tossed your pacifier away. Refused to let me hold you. Screamed until your face scrunched up and turned red.

I maintained my semblance of calm and dignity, all the while ignoring your tantrums. Left you in your crib. You screamed murder and I had to pick you up again in 2 minutes: it damned near broke my heart to hear you suffering that way. Wriggled yourself out of my arms, sat on the bed. I lay back on my pillow, tired, exhausted, at a loss about what next to do. Closed my eyes... and felt your hand stroking my cheek, your head pressed against my neck. You sobbed quietly, still stroking my face, rubbed your nose against mine. I thought you had reached a state of calmness then as my heart melted, and I kissed you tenderly.

The calm didn't last for too long.... You acted up soon again. My head was pounding, not only because I was tired, but because I was distressed. Checked your temperature: no fever. Checked your tummy for wind: nada, but I gave you a tummy rub anyway and tried to feed you some gripe water, which you refused. Took you downstairs finally, and let you play with your toys for 5 minutes. Brought you back up. More screaming and tantrums. You finally fell asleep from the sheer tiredness.

You woke up again at 2.00 a.m. and the same thing happened. The crying, the screaming. Your father and I argued. I felt sorry for you, because I didn't know what was wrong. I felt helpless. When you were finally settling down about 3.30 a.m., you pressed your body against me, sobbing quietly, clinging to my t-shirt. I stroked the top of your head, tears running down my face.

I'm so sorry, sweet pea. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more for you. My heart bled buckets last night just hearing you cry. All I can offer is my love and comfort- I could not find anything else to do for you, short of taking you to the hospital to see what was wrong.

I sighed in relief when you finally fell asleep and I quietly put you into your crib. My thoughts wandered aimless then as I lay in bed, watching the light from the street lamp outside cast shadows on the curtains. Your father breathed noisily, but you were quiet, sleeping peacefully at last.

With one final surge of mixed emotions, I began to cry again. I don't know why, sweet pea. I cried more when I stepped near your crib to look at you. By 5.00 a.m., I was still awake although tired. I blew you a kiss. I love you.

Heck it. I went in to the office at 5.30 a.m. I haven't slept a wink. I suspect today is going to be rather awful for me.

Shoes, shoes, shoes

One, two, buckle my shoe.... ~ traditional nursery rhyme

My dearest E.,

Methinks you have developed a thing for shoes, just like your mother. Last night, I proudly took out the two new pairs of shoes I had bought for you. You have rather long feet for an almost-14 month old. You wear a size 4, which is the average size for a 2-year old baby... You must get the long feet from your father.

Your current favourite pair is a cute, red pair of Mary-Janes, with little silk rosebuds. I bought it for you just a week before your birthday, and you've already outgrown then. What a pity. Notwithstanding, you still love it. You like to pick them up and wave them around. Sometimes, I have to restrain you from trying to put the garter strap into your mouth!

Last night, though, I laid out all your shoes for you in the living room, including your new ones. You stared at them, fascinated. And I laughed when you stuck your legs straight out in front of you and tried to force your little feet into them. I helped you into a pair, and you kept looking down at the velcro fasteners. When I had finally put them on, I helped you to your feet and you grinned at me, showing me your 4 very cute little teeth. And you stomped your feet on the spot, all the while chuckling, as if someone were tickling you- you were so happy! Left, right, left, right.

You bounced a little and jumped on the spot too- all the while very careful to keep a firm grip on my hands. How adorable that was! It was as if you were testing the tensile strength of the shoes, scrutinizing every little stitch, contemplating the comfort on your feet. And then- you insisted on walking: from the living room to the kitchen, to the study room, to the wash area, and back through the kitchen to the living room again.... And you smiled a huge smile of approval at me, as if to say, "Yes, these will do....!" And continued to play with your shoes.

What a marvellous show you put on for your Mommy! I am so proud of you, my beautiful baby girl... By the way, you sure do have quite a number of pairs of shoes for a baby...

Words of wisdom

My dearest E.,

I came across these wise words on the Internet (unfortunately, I do not know the author, or I'd give tribute to him/her for such prolific and thoughtful thinking) and I want to share them with you:-

Watch your thoughts, for they become words.

Watch your words, for they become actions.

Watch your actions, for they become habits.

Watch your habits, for they become character.

Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.

Thinking about you

What we think, we become ~ Buddha

My dearest E.,

I just thought of you. I have been sitting at my work desk, dreaming the past half hour away, waiting to come home and see you. Because I miss you, and can't wait to fold you into my arms and escape into nothingness. You and me together.

I just wanted to let you know this.

Butterfly kisses

Always kiss your children goodnight, even if they're already asleep. ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

My dearest E.,

I kiss you each and every night before you go to bed. I kiss you early in the morning when you wake up and smile at me. I kiss you when I drop you off at your grandparents' house for the day. I kiss you when you squeal in happiness to see at the end of a long, tired day. I kiss you when you lie beside me and play with my hair. I want to kiss you all the time, hold you close to me and forever be entangled in your sweetness. And when you kiss me back, soft and wet on my cheek, my heart is suffused with immeasurable joy and happiness.

Think of my kisses as little hopes and wishes to guide you through your day. Take each kiss of mine and bury them deep within your heart. Blow those kisses on those around you to make their day a little more cheery, happier or sunny. Spread those kisses as you spread your love to others around you.

Here are the words to a beautiful song that your father and I both love. It's called "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle. Isn't this apt? You make us feel the way Bob's little girl does to him.

Butterfly kisses

There's two things I know for sure:

She was sent here from Heaven and she's Daddy's little girl

As I drop to my knees by her bed at night

She talks to Jesus and I close my eyes and

I thank God for all the joy in my life

Oh, but most of all

For butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer

Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair

"Walk beside the pony, Daddy. It's my first ride".

"I know the cake looks funny, Daddy, but I sure tried".

In all that I've done wrong, I must've done something right

To deserve a hug every morning

And butterfly kisses at night.

Sweet sixteen today

She's looking like her Mama a little more everyday

One part woman, the other part girl

To perfume and make-up from ribbons and curls

Trying her wings out in a great big world

But I remember

Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer

Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair

"You know how much I love you, Daddy, but if you don't mind,

I'm only gonna kiss you on the cheek this time".

With all that I've done wrong, I must've done something right

To deserve her love every morning

And butterfly kisses at night.

All the precious time

Like the wind, the years go by

Precious butterfly

Spread your wings and fly.

She'll change her name today

She'll make a promise and I'll give her away

Standing in the bride-room, just staring at her

She asked me what I'm thinking, and I said

"I'm not sure- I just feel like I'm losing my baby girl".

She leaned over, gave me butterfly kisses with her Mama there

Sticking little flowers all up in her hair

"Walk me down the aisle, Daddy- it's just about time".

"Does my wedding gown look pretty, Daddy? Daddy, don't cry!"

Oh, with all that I've done wrong, I must've done something right

To deserve our love every morning and butterfly kisses

I couldn't ask God for more, man, this is what love is.

I know I gotta let her go, but I'll always remember

Every hug in the morning and butterfly kisses.

Baby steps

One small step can change your life ~ Robert Maurer, from "The Kaizen Way"

My dearest E.,

You took your first few baby steps yesterday. You were unafraid, unabashed, confident and grinning from ear to ear. Of course, you could already walk before- but you always preferred to cling on to my hand, or a piece of household furniture. Sometimes, you would only stand in your crib or on some soft surface where the risk of injuring yourself due to a fall would be minimized (you're so careful and smart that way!). Over the weekend, you enjoyed putting on your new Bubble Gummers shoes and taking them off, and begging me in your cooing way, to hold your hands so that you could walk around the house and try those new shoes out. They made squeaky noises as you walked, and you laughed with each step you took. You walk pretty damn fast for a baby, and I had to move quite quickly to keep up with you, too!

But yesterday, you made me and your father squeal loudly in delight. And begging for more! You stood on your own, holding a toy in one hand, examining your books on your little book shelf with your other hand. As I came down the stairs with a fresh change of clothes for you, you squealed loudly and started jumping on the spot- and most amazingly, you began to walk towards me. 7 solid baby steps. Your father and I leapt with glee and you continued to grin and laugh.

There is something about you, my sweet pea. When you set your mind to something, you get it done. I'm glad that you've learned to develop this very positive attitude. In life, we must always first take baby steps to achieve a larger goal. Life is a constant process of changing and learning-and with all that we do and seek to achieve in our lives, we take small baby steps, that will later shape us to take bigger steps towards achieving that particular goal.

As I watched you walking towards me, your arms outstretched, I see your future spread out before you. And the sun shining down on you-it's oh-so-bright and merry. Highly confident and sure of yourself, you took those baby steps to reach me. They are small now, but they will grow bigger, just like you, too...and soon you will be able to walk about quickly, run like the wind on your chubby legs...

It's funny, sweet pea. I've wanted to see you walk on your own for such a long time, and when I finally saw you walking yesterday, suddenly, I became selfish and wished otherwise. Your baby steps served to show me that you were growing into a young girl, determined and thoughtful: that you'd finally decided to walk for us, because you were finally sure about yourself. One day, you will walk away from your parents, walk down that aisle to be married to someone, to lead your own life and to have a little baby who will bring you as much joy as you have brought us.

I both look forward to and dread that day- but I also know that I cannot hinder your steps in life. That you must be allowed to grow to your full potential.

And I will always be here for you, holding your hand throughout, my heart open, my love for you on my sleeve, ready to pull you up if you ever fall down.

Missing You

Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart ~ Kay Knudsen

My dearest E.,

I've been extremely bogged down with work of late. It's the year-end frenzy, when companies want to close their accounts for their financial year, where deals are sought to be sealed, when people want to take a breather from the rigidities of daily working life and spend time with family and close friends during Christmas season. I have been working late every night, and don't get to spend as much time with you as I'd like to.

On Wednesday night, I was still at the office at 9.45 p.m., with no end in sight of the work I needed to finish by Thursday morning. I called my mother for a breather and she kindly offered to have you spend the night with them. We spoke on the phone a short while then, you and I, E. It was fun, and hearing your lilting voice cheered me up tremendously. You made little cooing sounds, as usual, and went on a frenzy of "words", "speaking" so much to your Mummy on the phone that my heart melted. I was, at least, comforted in knowing that your grandparents would take super good care of you. They are, after all, the only few people in this world I'd trust completely to take care of you.

By 11.30 p.m., I'd given up trying to complete all my work by the morning. Tired, hungry and exhausted, I wanted to just have a piping hot meal, a warm shower and my comfortable bed. And there was a terrible aching feeling inside me, that I wasn't able to place initially. I thought I was just tired out. Then the realisation hit me that I missed you. Tremendously.

Somehow, silence and emptiness greeted me when I came home. I mournfully surveyed your little blow-up swimming pool in the living room, your toy baskets in the corner, your jumbo Barney plush toy sitting by the piano. Images of you playing in the living room flashed before me. I heard your happy laugh ringing in my ears. I felt your warm arms close lovingly around my neck, your soft hair poking up my nostrils as you lay your head on my chest (You have such thick, lovely hair, sweet pea). I suddenly wanted to cry. The aching in my heart grew worse as I trudged upstairs slowly, dragging my feet.

I put my things down and meticulously removed my office clothes, changing into my towel to take a shower. Stood by your crib and looked into it for a long while, picturing you lying there with your chubby legs hugging your bolster, your repose peaceful and quiet, as you suckled on your Winnie the Pooh pacifier and twirled the corners of your blanket. I smoothed my hand over your silk quilt and "My Little Princess" comforter, folded your soft fleece blanket, fluffed your pillow and chased away the mosquitoes (if there were, indeed, any), doing as I do every night before you go to bed. I picked up your bolster and held it close to me, breathing in your sweet baby-scent. It was as if you were there with me, your lingering scent filling my nostrils.

I showered and allowed the water to run down my head, my face in warm rivulets. Standing there in the shower, I realised that I was crying. My heart ached ever more.

I went to bed rather depressed, but was comforted by your father's presence. I confessed to him how much I missed you, and he said that he did as well. We both snuggled close together, whispering in soft tones about your loveliness in general, and reminisced about how much youve changed our lives for the better.

I don't think I could stand to have you being away from us again- even for a night, sweet pea. My heart pains too much to have to do that and not have you beside me. That room in my heart which you fill with your wonderful presence was left empty for those long, 18 hours. I don't think anyone else would be capable of filling that void you left that night.

When we finally saw you the next evening, your smile of happiness at seeing us, coupled with your rush into my arms, made my world complete. Once more, the flowers started blooming again.... And the sun began to shine onto my dark world again.