Do you have any babies?

"Where IS the damn bus??" My fidgety classmate (who has a five-month old baby) exclaimed in exasperation as we waited at the bus stop after our evening class that ends at 9:30 pm.

"Patience, my dear, patience. What's the big rush?" I was very amused at her jumpy behaviour.

'Well, I just get very restless after class. Can't wait to get home to go see how my baby is doing, and what's generally happening." She confided. "You'll know when you have a baby." She smiled.

And suddenly it struck me. I do have a baby! My blog is my baby! I can't wait to get home after class/work to see how it's doing, and what's generally happening. And I am fiercely protective of it.

What is a baby really? A cute, precious, helpless little bundle that you have to take care of, that you have to watch over, so adorable that you just can't help hugging and kissing it.

Don't we all have babies that are not our babies? Haven't we all felt that immense sense of affection (that almost chokes us at times) for certain people, certain things? It may not be as deep as a real mother's love for her baby, but it's as close as single people can get to having their own baby. All of us have this basic maternal instinct (yes, even the guys do, though they may not like to admit it) for certain people in our lives. Your best friend, your friend's baby, your nephew, your niece, even your elder sibling (I know mine is!) could be your baby. In fact, there are at least three people on this blog itself whom I can call my babies because every time I think of them, I am filled with immense affection and the compelling need to protect them from whatever troubles them.

We all feel like that for certain people, don't we? When I first joined my company, a colleague of mine used to tell me, "I don't know why but I have this urge to 'baby' you, take care of you, make sure you're doing okay, check on you now and then." Now it's another matter that the advice this 'mother' gave me ("Get out of here as fast as you can. Publishing doesn't pay well and it's a high-stress, high-responsibility job.") is something this bratty baby never listened to. (In December I complete three years in the company.)

And then there are the things that are our babies. Things we're possessive about, things we are proud of, things that make our hearts go all warm and fuzzy. I feel like that about my magazine. It's my baby. Every time I go to 7-11 or a bookstore, I look out for it, and my heart fills with pride when I see it. And if it's hidden behind some bimbotic glossy magazine, I make it a point to pull it out and move it to the front. My baby should be visible. How dare the bimbo magazine try to cover my baby with its fat ass?!

Actually, for an editor, every book is a baby. Two years ago, I embarked on my biggest project at work. Working on a school textbook package with the Ministry of Education is no joke. In my company, the editor is the project manager and does everything from conceptualisation to editing to author-management to scheduling to budgeting and more. (So all those who think that all an editor does is sit at her desk and correct typos and grammatical errors all day, boy, you should never apply for a job in my company!) Such projects are incredibly exhausting, and often last 1-2 years, from the time we do the market research, finding authors, deciding the style and look, editing, artwork, photography, layout, reviews, to the submission of the book to the ministry, to getting the approval and to finally printing it, there's no end to the processes that an editor has to initiate and stay involved in, all the way. Like a friend said to me today, it is really about creating something out of nothing. It is therefore no surprise that most editors call their books their babies.

And so, this year in July, when my first textbook was launched, every time I looked at it sitting pretty, I'd melt and go "Awww... my baby!" I'm sure my co-editor Banana, and each of the designers who worked on it, felt the same. My editorial manager came along, picked up a copy of the book and remarked, "Your book is beautiful, Sayesha. You must be so proud. Your first baby, isn't it?"

'Yes, my first baby. Thank you. Am very proud of it." I said as I cradled my precious book in my hands.

"Next year's going to be very hectic for the textbook market. So are you looking forward to your next baby?" She asked.

I gave her a look of horror.

"Errr... can I adopt a one-child policy?" I asked. I don't think she was very amused. But I had a point. Creating the baby had been very hard work. This book had sapped quite a bit of my energy and creativity out of me, and all I needed was a break to just sit back and admire this book and watch it 'grow up' and tell myself proudly, "I was part of the team that made this beautiful book happen."

My other babies? Frodo and fat chick, of course!

Look around you, you will find so many babies of yours. Apart from the people in your life who're absolutely precious, it could even be your cricket bat, your soft toy, your X-box, your F1 steering wheel, your ipod, the piece of software you wrote. Anything.

So? Do you have any babies?