A letter to little dude

On 5 April 2013, your sister joined our family. She arrived bewildered and helpless, a newborn who depended on me totally to be fed, clothed, changed and washed. To take care of her, my time spent with you decreased considerably.

I could sense that you were sad. The arrival of a new member of the family, coupled with your 'coming of age' as a toddler was tough on you. At two and a half years of age, the emotions you could feel far exceeded your ability to communicate them. I saw you first approach your newborn sister warily, wondering what this sleeping, red-faced thing was. You gave a disgusted look and turned away. I was worried. But in the first few weeks there were many people around to distract you from the baby and myself. Your father, grandparents, grand-aunt were among them.

I wanted to keep you company as much as I could, but I had to deal with postpartum pain, being seriously sleep deprived, and struggled to establish my breast-feeding relationship with your new sister. As soon as I could walk fairly painlessly I took you out of the house for some individual time with you, ignoring the fact that it was barely three weeks after I have given birth and all that I wanted was just to sleep.

You seemed to understand that there was a new addition to the family, and things have changed. You somehow knew that I still loved you, but I had to set aside time for that strange-looking little creature that was bundled up and put inside a cot. Slowly, but surely, you became comfortable around your sister. Pride welled up inside me the first time you picked up her handkerchief to help wipe away her drool. As time went by, you helped with the baby wipes, diaper disposal, picked up toys that your sister repeatedly dropped from the high-chair. We even began to bath her together. To me, you were a small toddler with a heart that was out-of-this-world.

It has been a rocky and bumpy journey. We were both navigating a path. I was the only one who could read the map and often got lost. And frustrated. But you were always forgiving, and gave me your brightest smile everyday (tantrums notwithstanding). You are the boy that hums and sings wherever you go.

You turn 3 tomorrow. I heard that after the terrible twos comes the traumatizing threes. Whatever. We will hold on together. And we will get through.

Happy birthday little dude!