I often ask my husband if he thinks that Faith loves me.
It may seem like a strange question to ask, and rather peculiar that I should doubt my daughter’s affection for me, but I reckon that parents understand where I am coming from when I say that caring for a young child is, at times, akin to walking down a one-way street. I could smother Faith with kisses, and scoop her up in big bear hugs, but she doesn’t always reciprocate. Even though she spends most of her time with me, it is not uncommon for her to show more affection towards other people around her, people whom she sees less often. Say…when Faith sees someone whom she hasn’t met in a while, she would raise her eyebrows, widen her eyes and squeal with joy. But when she sees me, coming out of the loo for the ten thousandth time in her life, she would barely look up and if I am lucky, she would throw me a blank stare that says, ‘Oh. It’s you again’, then pick her favourite teddy up and go, ‘BEAR!!!!!’ like it is the most incredible thing she has ever laid eyes on. It appears that I am such a constant in her life, that…she may well be taking my presence for granted. Well, at least I thought so.
I had a hard time last week. I don’t want to go into details but something happened which made me very upset. My husband and Faith were right beside me, listening to me as I poured my heart out. And boy, DID I CRY LIKE A BABY.
The most wonderful thing happened. Faith, at all of 15 months old, picked up M’s hand and made sure that he rested it on my leg. Then, she rubbed my back for the longest time, just like how I comfort her when she feels upset or distressed, and gestured for her Papa to do the same.
Right there and then, I knew that I thought wrong.
Right there and then, I knew that my daughter loves me.
How much? I might ask.
Well…more than I will ever know. That, I am certain.