Apart from the morning sickness, the pregnancy had been progressing well. I was putting on the right amount of weight, I was healthier than I’d ever been in my life. My face, eyes, teeth, skin. There was a sheen to everything. Like how some film directors used to put Vaseline on the camera lens to soften the image. It felt like that. Omar kept saying that I looked luminous.

I was constantly active; the nesting instinct had kicked in and one night I managed to put together the cot entirely on my own, to Omar’s dismay.

Why didn’t you let me help you?

Because I wanted to do it. I couldn’t sleep and I needed to do something.

I couldn’t help myself. I folded and refolded baby clothes. I rearranged things in the dead of night. Baby wipes here, nappy cream there. Diapers in the corner. I sat in that nursery for hours, imagining the baby in my arms. I had bought a stack of CDs: music that resembled the human heartbeat, music with the gentlest of drums and flutes, whales’ song, Andean pipes, new age Celtic harp, Gregorian chants. I bought them all.

A girl. A baby girl.

We had not thought of a name. She was due in three weeks, and every day my belly grew and grew. The books always said that the last weeks were the worst, and that one had to “rest, stay free from stress, enjoy the last moments of your pregnancy.” I could no longer see my toes. My belly protruded outwards and upwards like a melon, hard and ripe. The baby was now pressing down on my bladder and I would sometimes have preferred to simply stay in the bathroom instead of waddling in and out every fifteen minutes. One night I used an entire roll of toilet paper.

Women stopped me on the street, in the malls. Asians have a morbid fascination with pregnant women, unabashed in giving thoughts or opinions.

Wah, your stomach so high, must be a boy. Got name ah?

So low, must be due soon, huh? Must be girl lah.

Twins ah? So big!

I waddled. I could no longer walk straight. The extra weight had added pressure on my lower spine and I had to resort to acupuncture to ease the pain. I stopped spending time in front of the computer, I stopped using the microwave, I rarely used my handphone. I wanted the baby to be clear of all kinds of rays and radio waves. I read all kinds of do’s and don’ts. I wanted the perfect birth. I wanted the perfect baby.