Hormones are definitely having a party in Vivy land right now. I just spent the last 10 minutes crying.
Because as I tucked Daniel in to bed just now, I noticed how long he was. And how he looks like such a big boy now. And how it seemed like just yesterday we brought him home from the hospital after labour.
5 minutes ago
So I stayed with him a little while longer. And stroked his hair and smiled at him saying things like “I love you so much”, “You give me so much joy”, “I hope you grow up to be a wonderful man”, “I pray you are always protected from evil”, “I hope I will always be your favourite woman”, “I hope you never think your nanny as your mother”, you know… completely sane things you say to your son.
But really, when I was saying things about how I hope he grows up to be a good Muslim leader… I just started tearing. I felt a lump in my throat, like I really really want all my doa for my son to be heard by God. As much as I don’t want to spoil him, I also pray that whatever hardship God tests him with, he will be able to go through it with strength and ease. Whatever challenges that come his way, he will be able to whip them hard and rise even higher. If it’s true that a mother’s doa is golden, then I really hope God will make this doa Gold Grade AAAAA++.
Then, I couldn’t take it anymore so I went out of the room to the living room where Dean was watching a movie.
I stood in front of him, face scrunched up, tears falling down my cheeks.
Dean just laughed and switched off the TV.
“What’s wrong this time, baby?” He asked me, half concerned half laughing.
I pointed to Daniel in the room.
“Do you see how big your son has gotten now?” I asked, almost scolding Dean.
“Yes… and I really hope he will continue to get bigger and won’t just stop here,” Dean said calmly.
“HOW IS THAT COMFORTING ME?!!” I wailed.
Guys… I’ve lost it, guys. This pregnancy is making me wonky. I cry… because my son looked longer tonight than usual.
I seriously dread the day he graduates or his wedding day. I’m going to be that haggard woman in the corner with a box of tissue on her lap going, “Someone stop time, please. Too fast, he’s growing up too fast…”
Sorry in advance, Danny boy.