My Father Forbade Me from Taking My Daughter, Fearing That I’m Too Gentle with His Granddaughter

My father once forbade me to pick up my daughter, fearing I was too gentle with his granddaughter. Not long ago, she began to crawl, and each time I left the room, she would follow me eagerly, hoping to be swept into my arms. Her grandfather advised me not to spoil her, suggesting she would learn to stand on her own if she remained on the floor, left to her own devices. Yet, I could never bring myself to ignore her outstretched arms, and often found myself wondering whether I was being overprotective.

I recognise my tendency to be soft with herto comfort her when she cries, to shower her with affection and rarely admonish her. Perhaps I am making up for the tenderness and care I lacked as a child myself. My early years were spent in a children’s home after my mother passed away, and I never knew my birth parents. It was my cousins family who took me in when they learnt of my plight, offering me a new home under their roof.

In those days, things were far from easy, for my new father was a reserved man and my new mother laboured tirelessly to keep the household afloat, leaving little room for warmth or loving words. Though I knew, in my heart, that they cared, it seldom found expression. Thus, I began to spin my own tales, picturing a world where I was cherishedpraised and adored like a princess reigning over a realm of kindness.

As the years stretched on, I sought approval and affection from others, particularly in romance. I clung to the faintest sign of interest, remaining in a loveless courtship for five long years, afraid that I might never discover love elsewhere. My husband now is a considerate man, and while he knows something of my history, the greater part remains my own. Despite what the past has taught me, I can’t help but lavish my daughter with all the affection I can mustershe deserves every ounce of love I have to give, so unlike the childhood I once knew.