Nostalgia

A few months ago, though it feels like a lifetime now, my husband and I were debating why we actually wanted kids. Life as a DINK (Double Income, No Kids) couple was pretty peaceful. Why on earth were we inviting a hurricane into our sanctuary? To be honest, the sight of children doesn’t quite a spark joy for me. Their public meltdowns are mostly just a headache, and I’ve often caught myself unintentionally rolling my eyes at embarrassed parents struggling to contain their screaming toddlers. I never wanted to be "that person". Between being a chronically light sleeper and prone to migraines at the drop of a hat, the "baby lifestyle" felt like a direct threat. Fast forward to today, and the irony is not lost on me. I’m officially in my ninth month, groaning from pelvic pain every time I roll over in bed and frantically buying newborn essentials online. And no, this wasn’t an accident. It was a deliberate, fully planned decision fuelled by my husband’s deep-seated de...

People ask why I’m not "glowing". They ask, "How can you not be excited?" as if joy is a default setting I’ve simply forgotten to turn on. But the truth is: I have been an adult since my childhood, and I am simply out of breath now. ​I grew up grey before my time. In my house, I wasn’t protected; I was the protector. As the designated ‘understanding’ child, I spent my days acting as a mediator, navigating the volatile tantrums of parents who were as emotionally unavailable as immature (especially the mother). While other children were allowed to be messy, I was learning to read the air for unpredictability, catching family drama and chaos before it shattered. I didn't grow up; I just moved into a larger skin. Because I spent my childhood parenting my parents, starting a family doesn't feel like a beginning; it feels like the second shift of a job I’ve been doing for ages. ​The closer I get to my due date, the more I realise I am heading into a future without...