On March 6, 1997, my wife’s waters broke unexpectedly and I frantically drove her to the hospital. Within hours, I found myself in the labour room witnessing the arrival of our son, Eu Gene (EG). After nine months of anxiety over the pregnancy’s age-related risks, we were instantly relieved to hear the kind doctor declaring a healthy baby.
Our only child was like a gift from god, coming after a 12-year wait. Contrary to a previous gynaecologist’s verdict of impossible conception, EG was miraculously and naturally conceived.
However, the person hired to look after mother and newborn for the confinement period did not show up. With no immediate alternative, I boldly took on the tasks of bathing and dressing EG, feeding him, changing his diapers as well as boiling ginger bath water for both mother and infant. With my limited cooking skills, I ventured to prepare traditional confinement food like rice-wine chicken and vinegar pork with lots of mature ginger and sesame oil, boiled red-dates water for drinking, and double-boiled herbal soups.
It was a gruelling round-the-clock schedule for the first two weeks. Thankfully, Mum recovered speedily and promptly enjoyed herself indulging her precious one. The intensity tapered off over the next few weeks, although new worries like lactose intolerance emerged.
Fast forward seven months later, Mum left home on overseas duty for 12 days in what felt like an eternity.
EG started crying incessantly, day and night, imposing a heavier toll on me. I must have walked a thousand miles cradling my distressed little one and stepping to every corner of the house, upstairs and downstairs. Astonishingly, after a couple of tormenting mother-deprived days, EG added cries of “mamma ... mamma ...” to his wails. I did not forget to capture many of those episodes with a voice recorder!
The stress from all these emotions and lack of rest caused my right thumb to become acutely stiff right down to its base. When Mum finally returned, the reunion was a tremendous relief for all of us. Recapping EG’s sorrows for Mamma brought tears of joy and satisfaction.
A further few weeks down the road, EG rewarded me by calling me Papa. Our lives were never the same again and we were guiltily EG-centred. What followed was an unending round of diapers, milk powder, thermos flask, thermometer, bibs, storyreading, toys, baby books and pram (though there was no need for pacifiers).
EG enjoyed riding with me on my old bike, with his feet resting in the front basket, and our pet mongrel scampering next to us, to the neighbourhood park. And for three years, I ferried him to and from a nearby kindergarten, with his hair softly tickling my chin and nose.
Papa continued sending EG to his primary school for six years, this time in a car.
Beginning last year, EG learnt to take the LRT to my former secondary school, with Papa helping to complete his journeys between home and the station.
During my month-long stints abroad over a two-year period when EG was between six and eight years old, the boy never failed to phone me every evening. It was also my duty to wait by the hostel reception counter for his calls. Upon my every return, he would jump into my arms, much to both our delight.
We visited zoos and bird parks, and went fishing, cycling and hiking. After watching me bathe our dog for a few years, EG graduated to take over the task.
I am privileged to have the chance to experience parenthood. EG has taught me to love and appreciate children, regardless of who they are. Bringing up children is a complex process. When faced with disciplinary issues, we are tempted to take the easier path by falling back on our authority, sometimes suppressing children’s natural instincts.
My 14 years of parenthood has its tribulations, joy, fun and laughter, and it is just part of a long voyage. I am looking forward to a few more decades of happy fatherhood. Now, it is about nurturing my son to follow his natural passions. Meanwhile, I salute parents out there who have successfully raised many fine children.
Fathers Figure invites fathers of any age and every stripe – rich dad, poor dad, single father, fun dad, tiger dad – to talk about their parenting experiences. E-mail your stories to star2@thestar.com.my with the subject header ‘Fathers Figure’, preferably between 600 and 800 words, with a photo attached. Published contributions in The Star's Star2 will be paid. So please include your full name, IC number, address and contact number.
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