Happy birthday Nicholas, my precious teeny-weeny gift!

“Wow, look at that belly of yours, I think you’re carrying a baby jumbo!” my best friend said as she teased my bulged stomach.

At nine months pregnant,  I looked like a bloated penguin or an inflated balloon. I could not see my own feet anymore and everyday, it was a struggle to walk or breathe.

I was on the verge of busting. Nicholas finally came to ease my burden on August 12th.

“Are you ready to breastfeed your baby?” the nurse asked me as soon as I opened my eyes after a grueling labor that eventually ended with an emergency Caesarian.

“Yes, bring him to me quick,” I was very eager to meet him after going through so much pain the previous night.

And boy, was I truly shocked! He was not the baby jumbo all of us had anticipated. He does not have chubby cheeks or fat little limbs. He was, well, simply a mass of bones and muscles, a little bit bigger than a month-old pup.

For a moment, I could not comprehend this at all or believe my eyes. What had happened to my baby, I thought sadly.

Did I hang posters of chubby babies in my bedroom wall? Yes, I have done that from day one when I found out I was pregnant.

Did I get good prenatal care? Yes, I went to see one of the best gynecologist in town.

Did I eat correctly? Yes, I ate well-balanced diets religiously every day.

Did I get enough rest? Yes, I slept like a hog on most days.

So why was the baby in my arms so teeny-weeny? What went wrong?

Disappointment overwhelmed my head for a brief second but maternal love emerged stronger. From the pure exhaustion and excruciating pain after a difficult labor sprang a very deep love for this little helpless being. Instinctively, I wrapped him closer, tighter and lovingly in my tired arms. In my eyes, this was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen.

Nicholas’ birth, understandably, did not generate any excitement or enthusiasm among our relatives or friends. No one was keen on such a skinny fellow. He does not have rosy chubby cheeks for anyone to pinch. He was not a plump baby you would love to feast your eyes on. In short, no one bother to give him a second glance, other than his dotting father or my supportive parents. They were always on my side, through thick and thin.

It was rather difficult to get a babysitter who is willing to take him in when it was time for me to go back to work. “No, no, no, taking care of such a skinny baby will spoil my professional reputation as a babysitter, other parents might think I am not efficient!” one of them said this straight into my face. I was aghast. What an ignorant woman!

I have to search high and low, begged on my knees, literally, before one of them finally relented. She told me it was not because she fancied my baby but she was in desperate need of the money I offered her.

Wherever we went, Nicholas never failed to attract hostile and curious stares from strangers on the streets, the shopping malls or even at the eating stalls. They all looked at him as if he was an alien from another planet, all because he was smaller than other babies and skinnier than the rest.

Being a first time mother, I was so very naive and these stares from strangers really got unto my nerves. I was terribly uncomfortable and could get upset easily when I saw people looking at us like that. I was dying to know why my baby was so small and skinny, so unlike other babies. He seems to grow so slowly despite me breastfeeding and giving him all the best we could possibly gave. What’s wrong with him, I kept asking myself this question and I was so desperate to find out. Soon, it became an obsession for me and it consumed my entire sanity.

Needless to say, I took him to all the pediatrics in town. Blood and urine tests were done on him so many times but no doctor could give me an answer. All they could ever tell me was three words I feared the most – “failure to thrive.” Yes, those were the three words I hated the most in his early years. And it was driving me crazy.

At home, I fed him with the best foods and supplements and also got him to sleep and sleep but still, he took his own sweet time to grow. Gaining a kg would catapult me to the moon but these gains came so painfully slow. And the hostile and curious stares followed us for years and years to come.

One day, we were having fish ball noodles in Pudu area when several middle-aged ladies sitting at the next table could not bear with their curiosities anymore. One of them finally got up, came over to our table and asked, not out of concern but with a tinge of contempt, “What’s wrong with your son?” I was truly floored down but I found the grace and strength to answer her cheerfully, “There’s nothing wrong with him, anyway, thanks for your concern.” She could not speak another word and withdrew back to her table hastily.

Really, it was no fun being a mom to a very skinny boy who does not seems to grow. I always cried when I looked at him. I always worried for his well-being. Why can’t these busy bodies leave us alone in peace? I hated all these stares and intrusions– they were so cold, so cruel, so contemptuous, and so in-compassionate. These mothers and grandmothers just could not stop being so hard on us both. I began to hate going out and chose to stay at home as much as possible.

When it was time for Nicholas to go to school, some mothers frowned at him when they found out he was sitting and playing together with their children. They used to give him disapproval stares and would pull their children away. The world was definitely not friendly or kind to a small and skinny child, that’s what I found out and had experienced.

Today, fifth-teen years later, I could sit down and write this because I have gotten over my miseries. I am above all these now. It no longer hurt or scare me. I have finally learn to accept our fates and destinies – Nicholas’ and mine. People can stare at him all they wanted and yet, it doesn’t bother me one bit. Being born small and skinny was not a sin or crime. I was so petite myself, so how can I give birth to a bouncy and chubby baby? Now I realized how stupid and naive I was then, how easily people can made me upset. Someone said you need to be stupid first to be wise later and I think it’s true.

Despite a head shorter and a size smaller than other boys his age, Nicholas grew up at long last, very healthy and normal in every sense and have plenty of school buddies now.

I think he was a little gift for me. A gift does not always have to come in big size, does it? Small and petite ones are just as precious and special. Yes, Nicholas will always be a little gift I will cherish in my heart. My little baby boy may be small and tiny but he has amazing talents and big dreams and for this, I am most grateful.

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