Being a baby once again was an unusual experience. But being a baby once again while having awareness of it was a truly surreal one. It really gave one time to contemplate and slow down.

I didn't have to do anything. Everything was done for me at my every beck and call. Well, at every cry and whine, but still. I felt great. Having your needs taken care of, having to do nothing, and having all the time to just stare into space was incredible. Nothing one could complain about. This was the life!

I would even go so far as to purposely excrete anywhere and everywhere. It was incredible to live knowing there was no judgement cast my way, or even if there was, it would be chalked up to me being a baby. This was true power! Power to literally poop anywhere and watch people clean it. I was getting drunk on this feeling.

But acting like a baby was both challenging and not. Challenging because adulting did that to you. It stripped you of your childishness. And not challenging because, let's be honest, men were entitled pieces of trash who always acted like babies.

It was only four months later when I spoke my first words in baby-ish. The disarmingly cute and charming but highly lethal language of the babies. And true to its nature, it worked. This was not the first time I spoke. It was the first time I said something legible. Before, it was all babbling. The first word I spoke was mother. My father had tried to get me to say father but I did not give him what he wanted.

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I would enjoy being a baby while I still could.

I had a feeling I would be getting company in the form of siblings soon. Why you ask?

One simple reason: my parents were 19 years old when they had me. And if there is anything I understand about these years, it's that people are usually hypersexual and hot to trot.

Plus, out here in front of forests, with tonnes of workload, lack of sufficient security and safety, and the absolute dearth of entertainment avenues, risk-taking behaviour spiked. It was what it was and I would have to handle it.

These thoughts were too heavy for my little baby brain. I should go out and poop more. That always calms me down. Nothing like an excellent relieving poop. You get light, both physically and mentally. Making space for more food. Delicious food was life.

Allaying poop, comforting food and soothing sleep, peppered with happy memories and a little humour, went a long way.

And I was so grateful I had that. Especially a loving family. I knew not many had it and how significant it was. One thing was for sure: I would never take them for granted. Having a loving and supportive family in place of a dysfunctional one was a boon. A boon I would not let go of.