My daughter fits so beautifully in my life that sometimes I think I imagine her.
My daughter fits so beautifully in my life that sometimes I think I imagine her.
Her
innocent stare makes my heart glad and coaxes a smile from me, her
silky skin is a wonder to look at, and her bubbly baby talk is more
entertaining than any music I have ever heard.
I can run my hand through her soft hair all day. Her sweet baby smell outdoes the best-smelling perfume in the world.
What is more wondrous about my daughter is that tiny as she is, she is teaching me a lot.
My
daughter is teaching me to be a morning person. In my single days, I
was the 10-hours-a-night kind of girl — I loved my sleep. Now, I am the
ultimate early riser. Her wails at 4am every morning leave me with no
choice but to pick her up and save my eardrums.
My
daughter is teaching me to be practical. Nowadays, decisions about what
to wear are often based on how quickly I can breastfeed her when she
demands it. It is no longer a question of “Will I look good in this?”
My
daughter is teaching me how to multi-task. These days, I can breastfeed
while talking on phone and at the same time watch the news and eat my
supper, and also engage in baby talk, skills that I would never have
imagined I am capable of, and all at once for that matter.
My
daughter is teaching me to be an entertainer. When I am with her, I
find myself making funny faces, and generally trying to make her smile
or laugh because this is what always melts my heart. Churchill Live comedians have got nothing on me these days.
WISDOM FROM BABES
My
daughter is teaching me to be patient and to take things easy, for
example when she poops immediately after a diaper change. Or throws up
all over the top I planned to go to work in. Or wakes up just as I am
about to call it a night.
My daughter
is teaching me to be loving, more loving than I thought my heart was
capable of. Each time she traces the contours of my face with her
chubby, saliva-slippery fingers, each time she raises her arms to be
held, each time she screams (with what I hope is joy) when she sees me,
my heart expands.
My daughter is
teaching me to be grateful. Grateful for her health, her milestones,
each new day that she lives, each new sound that she makes, each new
expression that she learns, each gulp of milk that she takes, for every
little thing that she is made of, and for every opportunity I have of
being her mommy.
My daughter is
teaching me to be courageous. From withstanding labour pains (more like
screaming, cursing, scratching, biting, and sweating, really) to
listening to my heart break after her first jab — why do those needles
have to be so big?
My daughter is
also teaching me to learn to fear things I did not fear before, like the
possibility of dying without writing a will. Because of her, I have
been forced to think about the future and plan for it.
My
daughter is teaching me to be creative and see things from different
perspectives. To her, anything is a toy, including my dreadlocks, which
she pulls and tries to swing with. The utensils are also fair game, and
so I am learning to see things through her imaginative mind.
Who would have thought a baby capable of such wisdom?
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