To My Only Child

Hey there Noey-Bear,

Mummy wanted to write you one last letter — a letter to you as our only child — before Mei-Mei arrives and our family changes forever. So drama, I know, but it is true. From here on after, you will have to share your parents and it will be all you’ll ever know, to have Mei-Mei by your side. But your Papa and I will remember the days when you were our only baby, and let me tell you: they’ve been special.

You, you are special.

You were the one who turned your father and I into a Papa and Mummy, and in the process changed us from the persons we were. If you’d known your Papa before, tongue-tied and looking awkward with kids, you’d never imagine he’d be the person that he is today, who excitedly peeps into strollers of strangers to catch a glimpse of a sleeping baby, and who engages random toddlers whom he meets at the doctor’s clinic. You changed us even as you changed our lives.

These 2.5 years watching you grow and growing along with you have been challenging and rewarding as we see you becoming your own person, and at the same time, see so much of ourselves in you as well. That’s the beauty of God’s creation. Thank you for daily showing me that.

You already know that things will be different when Mei-Mei joins us. Even at your tender age, you are quite perceptive. While you’ve willing bought into the idea of being a Gor-Gor and would proudly declare that you would “teach Mei-Mei things”, you have been resistant to the idea of Mei-Mei from the start. I’m not sure why. I’ve never once used Mei-Mei or the pregnancy as a reason not to do things with you or cast Mei-Mei’s impending arrival as something negative for you. The only conclusion I’ve come to is that your grandparents must somehow have said something. I remember they once told me that they told you that you would have to pass your bathtub along to Mei-Mei and you weren’t too happy with the idea, though you eventually agreed. At that point I told them NOT to say things that would give you the impression that Mei-Mei would be taking things away from you but maybe the impression formed then?

Whatever the case, you have continued to be rather negative about Mei-Mei.

“Hug Mei-Mei,” I’d say. “Hug Mummy!” you’d declare in reply.

You have also continued with your somewhat unflattering your descriptions of Mei-Mei and the alarming things you want to do to her.

“Mei-Mei is a dragon and she will blow out fire!” you would say. And “smash Mei-Mei into the ceiling” and “ding Mei-Mei into the light” comments have graduated into “light Mei-Mei like a candle” and various other scary things. Lest anyone thinks you don’t understand what you’re saying, you certainly do, for when I suggest doing the same things to you, you would immediately look very worried and say “Dowan! Pain pain!”. Sigh, my dear boy, what are we going to do about you?

These comments have eased off in recent weeks, thankfully, and I believe that you will learn to love Mei-Mei when she’s here, because you really are a very loving little boy by nature. I’ve seen you with little Zoe, and you are always gentle with her, and happy to give her a hug or kiss, though Zoe doesn’t always appreciate it! Recently, as they get more pronounced, I’ve also let you feel Mei-Mei’s bumps and kicks and you’ve found them entertaining. You especially like it when Mei-Mei hiccups — the regular little kicks send you into peals of laughter. I’m hoping they help you connect with your soon-to-be sibling more before she makes her big appearance.

Till then, it will continue to be hard for both you and I. As I’ve grown ever bigger and heavier, I’ve found myself unable to bring you out much at all on my own, and I’ve missed that very much. One of the privileges of working only on alternate days is that I used to be able to bring you out on spur of the moment outings on weekdays for some Mummy-Noey time. Often we don’t do anything too spectacular — a supermarket run, a jaunt along the Singapore River after dropping Papa off at work, a walk in the park, or going out for a mid-morning snack. You seem to enjoy yourself no matter where we go.

These have had to stop.

It’s now rather difficult for me to pick you up and carry you when you refuse to move in a certain direction, and near impossible for me to run after you. So your Daddy has made me promise not to bring you out without help. Truth is, it is rather difficult for me to haul myself along anywhere these days, so we’ve mostly been house-bound. You get your regular outdoor activity with your Papa, your Kong Kong and your Nai Nai when they come round so I don’t think you’re missing out too much, but I miss going out with you myself a lot.

We’ll resume some Mummy-Noey outing time in future. It might be a while before we are able to step out on our own, just you and I, but it will happen, I promise.

In the meantime, there’s nothing stopping us from having our Mummy-Noey time at home. You do get a bit frustrated that Mummy can’t run around with you like before. We’ve been doing a lot of puzzles, drawing and reading instead, up to the point where it gets impossible for me to get on the floor with you. But mostly you’ve been a good sport about it. You’ve shared your trains and cars with me and we’ve shared plenty of laughs just messing about with your toys and things.

I can’t tell you for sure what it’ll be like once Mei-Mei is here. It’ll be different. At first it might be difficult, but eventually, I think you’re going to like it. And like her. Hey, we didn’t know what we were getting into when we had you but I think that worked out really well!

Well, no matter what, I want you to know that we will always love you. We always have, before we even knew it or knew you. And we always will.

Big hugs,
Mummy Bear