With a baby on the way, it was not so difficult to convince grandpa then eventually grandma to get married. The news though shocking to my parents but was not entirely unwelcome. They thought it would make me more responsible and mature. Her grandparents seemed happy but worried though.

I’m not sure. All I know is that I love the both of them, Sandara and our baby.

After the wedding, we stayed at my grandparents. I was working full-time for grandpa getting ready to take on the business. Sandara was busy getting doted over by my grandmother and mother when she would come to visit. They were dishing out motherhood tips and giving advice on food to eat and vitamins to drink. Her grandparents would also visit to check on her.

At night when it’s just the two of us, I’d rest my head over her growing belly, waiting for the baby to move and  whisper how much I love him/her and his/her mother  and that I couldn’t wait to meet him/her.

Sandara seems touched by this although she always seemed to be stressed. I could tell by her sighs and how her eyes would cloud over when we talk about the baby but I figured it must be the anxiety of her first pregnancy. After all, we would be first time parents.

It wasn’t until in her 6^th month of pregnancy when her ultrasound results showed that we were having a girl that things started to unravel.

I could just picture our baby like a little Sandara and I was all smiles while we were on the way home when I noticed that she was too quiet. She hasn’t spoken a word since we’ve been to the doctor. I looked at her and she was silently crying.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Aren’t you happy we have a daughter?” I asked.

“What if I’m not a good mother? What if our baby hates me?” she asked.

I don’t know if her hormones are making her emotional or if she was actually serious but I did my best to reassure her.

“Our baby would never hate you. She’s part me and I love you. And she’s part you, which is good and beautiful. I know you’ll be a good mother to her because she’s part me and you love me and you’ll never let anything harm her. And she’s part you so you will love her more than your life.”

“That just worries me more.” she said.

“Which part?” I asked perplexed.

“That she has a part of me.” she said.

I thought she was just being silly. “I’m sure she has the best of you and me” I said.

We were patiently waiting until it was time. Sandara seemed about ready to pop and each day her contractions are becoming frequent.

The baby’s room was ready in hues of pink and yellow but we were still undecided on her name. We were trying to pick out names in a baby book when Dara announced that her water broke.

I collected our stuff as calmly as I could and headed for the hospital. We were attended to right away and she was whisked to the delivery room. After what seemed like 6 hours of nervous pacing outside with my parents and grandparents and her grandparents, the doctor came out and told us we could see her and the baby.

My first sight of them brought me bliss. She was nursing our baby bundled in a pink blanket. Our little angel looked exactly as I pictured her, a miniature Sandara.

I never felt more blessed than at that time. So I thought maybe I owed the moon.

I was cut from my reverie when I heard someone calling me.

“Papa!” Luna was calling me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Look what I found by the lake this afternoon.” She said showing me an algae covered object.

I took the object from her and peeled off the algae. It was a gold ring. Even without looking at the inscription, I knew who it belonged to.

 “Papa, who is Sandara and why do you heart her?” My daughter asked.

“She was someone very special to Papa” I replied.

“More special than Mama?” she asked again with a frown on her face.

“Both are equally special to me” I said to appease my daughter.

“If both are special to you then can I meet Sandara?” she asked again.

“Maybe someday” I said.

“Okay, so why was Sandara special?” she asked again, continuing our earlier conversation.

“Because she was pretty just like you.” I said.

“How about my Mama, can I meet her too? Is she pretty?”

This is the first time my daughter asked about her mother. Ever since she was 3 months old she has grown under the care of my mother and grandma.

“Other kids in my class tease me saying I have no Mama. I want to meet her. Please, please?” she pleaded.

“I’m sorry baby. But you do receive her letters and cards right?” I said.

“But it’s not the same as having her around.” She said forlornly.

“Not at the moment, but in time, when she’s ready” I assured my daughter.

“When is that?” she asked not contented with my answer.

“Soon.”