The Gift of Life

Since I was a baby, life has been fragile.

I came into this world, weighing a mere 4 kg.
Crinkled, crumbled, old.

Not the bouncing, kicking, crying baby you expect.
Put me in your arms, you can probably weigh me with one palm.
"A kitten," my mum would recall.

In mid 60s Singapore, many babies like me could not survive month.
I was gasping, always gasping for breath.
Not enough oxygen.

No sooner than I was born, I was taken away from my mum's bedside.
Instead of maternal milk, I was fed by tubes.
Tubes and tubes of artificial air, enclosed by a transparent dome they call the incubator.

One month later, the town police rang the doorbell of my grandparents' house.
My parents thought all has finally come to a standstill.
Perhaps he has the death certificate.
My parents' heart sank..

What else could there be but bad news when a policeman knocked at your door?

Many other premature babies had been routed through this life to the next,
without a chance to utter the endearing sounds, "Mummy" and "Daddy"

To my parents' and relatives' surprise, I was still alive, waiting in the hospital to be taken home.

In the next few months, bottled milk became my staple.
The scrawny baby mistaken for a kitten has fattened up.

Life is fragile. But God has a purpose for my life.
He has kept me alive to tell of His wonderful gift of life.
His wonderful gift of life to me to treasure.
His wonderful gift of life to my parents not to abandon hope.

As a baby, I have struggled for live.
As an adult now, I am grateful for life.

Every breath I take is a reminder of God's first breath into man,
the gift of life that turns man from a lump of clay into a living soul.

Dearest God, thank you for years still counting...