My Sweet Babies,
A light gleams in the darkness, gentle, soft in the calmness of night. I am writing this under the tender glow of candle because I have this odd mindset that it is more in keeping with my poetic nature. Your dad is weird like that. I am hunched over my journal with a pen clutched in my hand; my brain is racked beyond words. It is a pleasant agony however thinking about the poetic phrases and chic clauses that would form this letter. For the first time in my life I am truly speechless. You see your daddy prides himself on being a connoisseur on words but right now those words that will hopefully capture your mother’s heart are seeping through my mind cracks. My heart is awfully overwhelmed by the reality that I, small me, will bring (via your mother) another being(S) into this blue globe. I cannot imagine the words that would welcome you home. Yes! Home in my arms, your tiny heads cradled against my chest.
I hope you guys will feel my heart beat as you read this letter? I can only hope you feel the harmonized cadence of our 3 hearts? I am in tears now quite literally as my pen scratches the surface of my journal. It has taken me almost a week to frame the words that I will read to you as you both are cradled sweetly in your cribs. You wonder how I know you will be twins, you wonder how I can be so certain that a woman I haven’t met will allow me put her through the pain of carrying two babies for half a year and three months. Maybe when you are a bit older I will share this secret just know this that as I write this letter I know that the two of you will be the best I could ever ask for. My eyes yearn to hold you in their gaze. I can only imagine that one of you will have my wife’s sapphire eyes, those blue gemstones laced with the luscious white of innocence while the other would have desert brown like mine.
Right now, at this very moment I am waiting for Ife (that is codename for mummy) to arrive. I am waiting for that deep sleep parole that will leave me minus one rib and plus one beautiful belle. I have expressed my thoughts in letters like this hoping that somehow your mother will take the hint and come home. Don’t worry it is all in God’s schedule. For surely the chicken shall arrive before the egg. God is fashioning a lady for us that will be a fruitful bough in our home. The kind of woman who knows the difference between satire and sarcasm, knows her onions about fashion and family and isn’t reluctant to slice onions in the kitchen. This is not a letter to my unborn wife so dearies we shall be patient and exercise big chill. Let me tell you what I imagine about the pregnancy, after all this is where you will make your first ever grand appearance as the superstars that you are.
Few experiences hold the promise of pain and pleasure and a vast vault of multifarious emotions as this. As I think about it I can almost feel your mum’s shockingly herculean grasp lock my hand in a chokehold. I will gladly lose my writing hand just to ensure that that day ends with the sharp, hair-splitting cry of two of God’s most beautiful girls (yes I want twin daughters). I can hear the doctor’s voice assuring me that everything will alright. Don’t tell your mum this but the hours of labor (which are to be expected after rounds of sweltering romance) are nothing compared to the joy that will be splashed on our faces. Upon seeing you two I will most likely burst out in a cackle that no doubt would arise because I want to maintain my manly poise and not shed a tear.
Tears will eventually flow like a rivulet from my eyes because I am just a sappy emotional person. My pastor says I love deeply and that is so true that when he said it I cried. I will wipe my tears with my hands and stare at mum with a smile. I will probably have to record that event as you will want to see the upward arching of my thick African lips from cheek to cheek. But don’t worry it is the same smile that will tinge our family pictures. It is the same one that will greet your school teachers as I drop you off in school. It is the same smile that I will no doubt see plastered on your faces when one of you brings home her prize for being best student in literature and the other is recognized globally for some major sciency stuff. Don’t worry I won’t push you too hard, neither will your mum but we will push you till you are pregnant with vision and ideas (not with kids o! or else)
But for now I will enjoy thinking about your sweet smiles, the touch of your impossibly soft skin and the feel your tiny heartbeats with our fingertips. The prospect of this reality overwhelms me. The possibility your lives presents causes excitement to trickle down my spine. Love and fear overwhelms me all at once. My heart is suddenly fuller than I ever knew possible, so full it feels like it can burst. Apparently, since both of you can’t come out at the same time due to design constraints in the female anatomy, one of you will have to be older than the other. It would be strange if you didn’t lord it over yourselves but I trust there will be no petty squabbles particularly over who I love more and most especially over a guy.
Let us talk about names. I don’t even know what to call you. Maybe I will let your mum decide. Maybe I will name you Praise and Worship. I kid! I kid! I don’t want you scarred for the rest of your life. We could go with Tomi and Tife or Ibukun and Ibidun. But I know you are strong, very strong and your names will reflect this. From the moment you squeezed my finger tightly in your palm, the intensity of your grip surprised me. It felt like you were telling me it was OK. I will love you as much as is humanly possible from day one and if I was to fast-forward to a year after you are born it would still feel exactly the same way. People who see you will wonder. Here are these two little people who can communicate in their own special way, hold their own bottles and sway to the beat of Lecrae and clap their hands as Hillsong plays in the background and wrestle for toys and even — walk! So far from the itsy-bitsy babies we brought home from the hospital.
Yes! I will love you. As we celebrate your first and twenty first birthdays, and as I walk both of you to the aisle preferably on different days though if you want a joint wedding the Lord is my shepherd and whatnot. Just don’t come home with a guy who doesn’t know the difference between Chronicles and Corinthians and who thinks that Titus is merely the name of a fish or that the Garden of Eden is a strip club in eastern Asia. You don’t have to marry a pastor or a member of the clergy but I want a manly man who can maneuver the stormy seas of life with the vessel of God’s word. I trust that God’s word will be your compass in every decision. We will go to church like there is no tomorrow and pray like our lives depend on it – after all they do.
Let me stop here… if I dare to go any further I might just destroy my laptop’s keyboard with tears…. salty, manly, tears…
I love you..
From Daddy Dami….