Today we found out that you’re a girl. My daughter. It brought tears of love to my eyes when your mom told me while we were at the hospital for your monthly check-up. What started as an ordinary day became one of the happiest days of my life. I can’t stop thinking about you, and who you will one day become. Nervous, yes. My heart races just thinking about you. But I’m not scared. I’m ready to be your father. I’ve never been more ready in my life. You’re the reason for me.
Your mom and I didn’t care whether you were a girl or boy. For your first five prenatal check-ups, we went to the government hospital. We had thought that the doctor was going to tell us your gender during our last visit, but she said the hospital doesn’t provide that information. It must be policy. On leaving, your mom said that she’d look for a specialist, but I told her there wasn’t a need because we’d probably find out your gender during the next check-up since it was always our intention to change to a private hospital around this time. I wasn’t certain. It was an educated guess. Honestly, I didn’t know where to go when your mom first knew she was pregnant. Your mom knew, fortunately. She made a plan, and wanted to save some money. No complaints here. It’s not that I didn’t care because I cared very much. I haven’t missed an appointment. It’s because this isn’t my home country, and things that may seem trivial in America are more confusing here. I did, however, choose the private hospital with your mom’s approval. That was the task she gave me from the beginning.
I didn’t expect to know your gender today. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind because I was happy either way. We arrived at the private hospital around 8:15AM, and we had to wait until 9:45AM for her to see the doctor because she didn’t have an appointment at no fault of our own. After not more than 15 minutes, your mom came back overly happy, sat next to me and asked whether I want to know if you’re a girl or boy. I said yes, of course. Your mom told me that she asked the doctor, and then the doctor replied, “Same as you.”
Your mom and I love each other very much. Although we’re not married yet, you’re not a surprise. We chose each other because we couldn’t be without each other, and actively planned to have a baby. We first knew about you in January after she had taken a pregnancy test that showed a faint line. Your mom and I were very happy, but nothing like today. I can’t see you, but I’ve felt you grow. What were first unrecognizable movements a few weeks ago have become pronounced thumps as you’ve become stronger. Now, I know you’re my daughter and soon we’ll get to meet. Your mom and I will wed soon, hopefully. It’s not a matter of commitment, the delay is because of COVID-19.
I want you to know about me when you’re an adult. I’ve always wanted to keep a journal, but I lacked the motivation, patience and rigor to write. Several times I tried, and several times I stopped. I think my past entries have been lost or deleted by accident. This is the only medium I’m aware of that can withstand time. My journal is my gift to you. And, if you, Mom and I are so lucky, your siblings as well.
Love, Dad
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