Marching On

"You have all these hopes and dreams for your first child. Everything's new and you want to do the best you can for the kid. You watch over what he eats, what he wears, what books he reads. But by the time baby number five comes along, you don't do all that anymore. Feed her, clothe her, send her to school, hope she turns out okay."
He turns to me with a small smile. "Kesian baby number five tu kan?"
"Yeah. Kesian."
I think she turned out okay afterall.

It's March and my baby is due in a couple of weeks. Did I mention I'm pregnant?

Yes, I am.

I try to not talk about my personal life here. Those details are not important to you, as a reader, it shouldn't have any relevance to what I write, so I omit them. "Never seen nor heard" as Du Maurier said. But I'm revealing this little tid bit of info now because I have a feeling this new development in my life will most definitely shape how I see things, the world, the news, the whatevers. It's going to be hard to not be affected, it's one hell of a change, and I feel I cannot help but view things differently now, thus my writing will be somewhat different.

One of my friends, upon hearing the news, said to me "I hope you won't turn into one of those mommy bloggers." I assured him that I won't. I have nothing against mommy bloggers, I like reading mommy blogs, they're cute and funny. It's not something I would do, personally. Much as I'd like to share with you the fact that my kid is the Saviour of the Universe AND Jazz Pianist Extraodinaire I know enough to keep that to myself and just silently gloat when it's proven true.

Also, I'm going to be busy for a while (obviously) and felt you guys needed to know why. If you're getting used to the fact that there's nothing worthwhile to read here, prepare for more of the same. Get your kicks elsewhere, kids.

I have to say I have mixed emotions about the baby's arrival. I want this to end already, but really so I won't make any more middle-of-the-night trips to the loo, an event which is almost always preceded by teeth-clenching dreams of my endless search for a bathroom only to find it doesn't work/all occupied/no water - all with gushing waterfalls nearby or floating on a boat in a blue green sea. But sometimes I just want the baby to stay there so I can feel the kicks and the rolls and the hiccups forever.

It's a bit scary, you know? Not just this feat you have to achive, this act of strength and endurance which is the equivalent of forcing a bowling ball out of a ketchup bottle. It's what comes next that's sorta scary too. You're gonna be responsible for this little thing and you can't return it back to the store. Can't hand the kid back to the parents either, because you're the parents! Tied to this human being forever and beyond, even in the afterlife.

It's like getting ready to meet someone you've only heard/read about. Like a celebrity or something. You anticipate, you have ideas and pictures and scenarios of what this person would be like, and you don't know if you're going to be surprisingly delighted or dreadfully disappointed. And whether this person will feel the same way about you.

We've bought all the baby furniture and clothes etc. Yet, sometimes I can't help but feel I'm tempting fate somewhat. I sometimes think this is not real, that God can't really be blessing me this way because nothing I've really really wanted badly ever came easy and I would one day come home from the hospital and know the crib will remain empty for another long while and we're going to have to start this process all over again. You can give me all the positive platitudes you want, but I've learned long ago not to keep high hopes and disappointments are always hiding in the bushes somewhere. Anything can happen, man.

So that's it. I'll be away for a while. Not sure when I'll be back, if ever. I might find myself with plenty of things to write about, I might not. Who knows?