In the past year, I haven’t had much time to really sort out my thoughts. Perhaps I just didn’t take the time. I also noticed that my way of thinking has been jumbled lately. My sentences don’t make much sense. I’m easily angered… not angered, more aggravated. But I’m sitting here in the airport with nothing but time… and I need to write this out.

In the past year, I lost a friend… a neighbor whom I grew to adore. She was older, but my boys respected her. She tutored them. And we could confide in each other. She was an alcoholic. I took a week-long vacation. Towards the end of my vacation, she called me constantly. It annoyed me, so I didn’t pick up. Next thing I hear, she passed away from alcohol poisoning. I felt responsible for not being there at her point of desperation. I was annoyed while she tried to reach out. Sincere folks tried to tell me not to feel responsible.  But I know if I had the chance to talk to her now, she would probably tell me I should have answered the phone.  I miss her laugh.  She had an incredible laugh.  My teenagers loved her dry sense of humor.  I loved her sincere heart.

Since then, I tried to stay in contact with those around me. Priorities shifted to people first, then tasks. I visited my best friend in Atlanta. It worked out so conveniently because I often had to travel there for work. So, I got to see her regularly. She was not just a regular person. She had a big personality, so friendly and outgoing. She would tell people exactly what she thought… about anything. She didn’t sugar coat – but the way she said things, drew people towards her. She was opposite of shy, quiet me. I was proud to call her my best friend. She had some medical issues, but nothing serious. But, one day, her fiancé called to say she needed me. She was sick and recovering from surgery. That same day I flew up to surprise her. I took care of her that night and morning. We talked a little. She hugged my baby. We talked about her baby. And then I flew back home. We didn’t know that a few weeks later, she’d be gone. I told her I’d see her in a few weeks. But I didn’t. She had cancer. And the cancer spread faster than I could fly back up to see her. It’s been 5 months. And I still cry. I can’t think of a day when I don’t think of her or hear her singing my name. Or when a song comes on we used to sing in the hallways of Kennedy High School. My heart hurts as I desperately relive all our memories in my head, so I’ll never forget. Sometimes I have dreams and she’s right there. I hug her, feel her arm. And it’s like she’s really here. Then I wake up feeling revived. Then a couple days pass…. And today I’m back to missing her.

Some people never say “good bye”. They always say “see you later”. That’s what I said to my 2 friends. I told my neighbor, “See you in a week“. I told my best friend, “See you in a few weeks”. But my heart hurts I wished I could have said goodbye. I wished I could have told them how much they meant to me. I wish I could have hugged them one more time.


It’s been so long since I’ve written.  And I’ve wanted to write often, but kept getting distracted.  I’m particular about the way I write.  Proof-reading several times until it’s just the way I like it.  But today I feel like I just have to write…. so forgive me, in advance, for any grammatical or formatting errors.

I lost my best friend.

A couple months ago, I lost her.  She passed last month, but she was in the hospital for about a month before that.  It came all of a sudden, she just gave birth to a baby boy.  We were so excited about raising our little ones together.  They were going to be as close as we were.  She lived in another state, but were only an 8-hr drive away (1-hr plane ride).

Then, one night, I had this terrible dream.  It was just me calling her – everyday.  Picking up the phone, saying hello, then hanging up. I didn’t know why… but the next day, her fiance called me and said she had cancer. I felt like this…. “Ok. she has cancer, it can be beat. I’ll see her soon and we’ll get through it” Then everyday, I stayed in touch her fiance. Waiting patiently… then texting her everyday… “I love you” “I love you”… By then, she was not coherent. The cancer spread so rapidly.

I’m just writing the air today…. wishing she could read this.. I miss her SO much. And I’m SO angry and sad, confused, lonely, heartbroken. I can’t cry… it’s been over a month.. I want to scream like a little child with a tantrum, “give me back my friend!!!!!!!!!!” But I can’t. I want to send this post, write her a letter, email, text her and just pretend it didn’t happen. I want to be OK with just waiting the rest of my life for her to respond… instead of telling myself she can’t.  I want to tape record my brain – remembering how she sings my name…  but there isn’t technology made for that, yet… right?

Then there’s her little baby. And I worry for him. Because I’m afraid he won’t be raised to remember his mommy.  For reasons I can’t type out…. I’m SO angry about this. My friend was SO full of character and LIFE, her baby needs to know this.

This is all I can write for now. I have to go pick up my baby from daycare.

What’s In a Name?

I’m at the 20 week mark, almost halfway through this pregnancy. It’s amazing the emotional roller coaster that we go through as mothers from conception till now… I can’t wait until the day we get to see that amazing face looking back at us.

The big looming question is, how are we going to greet our little one when we see him?

My thoughts on names are not to be taken lightly.

I’ve been asked if we’ll be having a Junior. I understand people want their name to be passed down to generations. Boy or Girl, how can we name a person after man, who is imperfect? I’ve been asked if we’ll have a unique name (as some are doing nowadays). To each their own. But not mine. His name needs a meaning. We have a few more months to pray on this, and I’m open minded with one criteria: I want to dedicate him to the One who gave us this little miracle.

After all, this is the name he should be proud to have:

  • His name will be on every personalized sticker and keychain that his aunties will buy him from various vacation spots.
  • His name will be called when he eagerly raises his hand to participate in class.
  • When everyone cheers for him as he runs down the football field, or basketball court,

…..or takes a bow after a cello performance, or passes a level at the spelling bee.

  • He will be beaming when he sees his name on his first paycheck.
  • When he sees his name spelled out on his high school diploma… and college diploma.
  • Then there’s that very special day when he signs his name on the title of his first home.

God created us, every one of us living beings. Yet in Genesis 2:20, He let man name them.  What a responsibility we, as parents, have to choose something so special and significant for our next generation.  And I’m up for the challenge!

So, in the meantime, here’s a little picture of our baby boy, hiding after dancing the morning away… :)


I’ll Love You Forever

Ill Love You ForeverI was 17 and pregnant with my eldest son. Yep, I was a baby having a baby.  While I was pregnant, my ex-husband’s mother gave him this book, “I’ll Love You Forever.” Partly for her son, and partly for our new little one.  Back then, I was so bitter and emotionally bruised by my own upbringing that I didn’t quite understand the meaning of this book.  But, last week, my own son turned 17. 

Lord, oh, how the time has passed.

A couple nights ago, I could not sleep.  Thoughts ran through my mind about my 2 teenage boys:

Did I do a good job?

Did I do enough?

Did I give them enough?

Do they feel loved?

Do they know how much I love them?

Wishes…. Regrets…. Fears…

I wish I could give them more…

I wished I hadn’t made some of the decisions I made..

I hope they won’t have to struggle the way I did….

I hope they’ll always know I tried, even when I felt it was impossible. 

I hope they know I always tried to give them what I thought was best, sadly seeing sometimes it didn’t turn out that way.

I’m not even sure if these questions will ever be answered – or if I’d even want to know! But, as my eldest approaches his Junior year of high school, I’ll continue to reflect… I will undoubtedly love them forever….

Typecasting the Black Sheep

I feel like I’ve written this blog post before.  If I have, I apologize… or perhaps it’s a recurring circumstance in which I cannot escape. 

I’ve lived in Orlando for 15 years, born and raised in Seattle.  A long way from home.  What brought me here?  Well, I usually give 1 of 2 answers: To most, I give the generic “we had an awesome Disney World vacation and decided to stay” and for the chosen few (and you, my dear readers) I explain how I was a young mom who married her drug-dealing, illegal-alien, teenage-crush and needed a fresh new start.  In a nutshell.

Both stories are versions of the truth. The fact that I’ve moved across the county, away from family, a full support system, and stable life has defined me in ways I’d never dreamed of as an antsy teenager.  Never mind the daddy issues.  I will never deny that I am ‘one of them’.  But, there’s something to be said of the 15 years I’ve worked, sweated, strained, cried, and fought to get to where I am – a normal suburban mom.


Whenever, I visit home – Every time I visit Seattle.  I can’t escape my typecast: The Black Sheep

I try to see my family once a year, at first, it was OK.  I gave into my label.  I knew I made mistakes and work had to be done.  Of course, I was in my early twenties, so I was also very naive and yielding.

As years passed, I made steps in my career, got married, bought and built a stable home.  And today, 15 years later, my visit is still plagued with comments such as “your sister tells her sons not to end up like you” and “you’ve made so many bad choices, it’s impressive your boys are so good.”  To all of these remarks, I smile and nod.  I politely agree, “yes I don’t want them to end up like me.” Because, of course, that is how a good Asian daughter responds, right?

But, I just want to be normal – like I feel when I’m home – in Orlando.  I want my parents to hug and smile at me the way they do my sisters.  I don’t want them to have to question my decisions.  I want so badly for them to trust that I’m normal.  Despite the hard work, I’m here… Now.  I’m a normal suburban chic.  Just like my sisters.  Just like they intended to raise me.

9 Weeks (1st Trimester)

It’s been a few weeks since my last update.  I’m currently 8 weeks 6 days along with this prgnancy.  I’m so thankful to say I have graduated from my RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist) who has officially passed me along to an OBGYN!

So, here’s what’s happened after my Big Scare… I was on bed rest for a week, restricted to carrying less than 5 lbs (if anything at all), & pelvic rest.  Let me tell you about bed rest.  It is not the vacation it sounds like it should be!  The first day was fantastic: TV remote in hand, various snacks at bedside, comfy pillows behind my neck.  Second day was OK but, by third day, I had so much energy in me I wanted to get up and run around, but I couldn’t.  Here’s a pic of my belly at 7 wks:

ImageAfter the week of bed rest was over, I was still restricted to light activity, no heavy lifting, and pelvic rest…. my first day out of the house was a major experience. I cried and shook.  I was in so much fear that I would start bleeding again. But, little by little, I made it through the day.  Last Friday was my follow-up appointment.  Again, a nervous wreck, I sat there praying there would be a little bean in there.

Thankfully, we did see a growing, moving, lovely little one in there with a good strong heartbeat:

So last week was my first OBGYN appointment. It was kind of a funny feeling leaving my RE’s office because I’ve been seeing her faithfully for 3 years.  I felt like a lost puppy at my first OBGYN appt.  It’s a different office, different people…. everyone was nice.  They must have sensed my fear because I left there with so much information in hand. I was hoping for an ultrasound/update on the blood clot (Subchorionic Hemorrhage) that cause all the bleeding weeks ago. But I won’t have answers until my 12 week appointment. Guess I need to put a little trust in my new OBGYN that everything will be ok :)

So there’s my update. I hope for an uneventful next couple weeks until my next appointment!

The Big Scare (1st Trimester)

If you’re someone like me who’s been TTC (Trying to Conceive) for years (or even months), you know the desperate feeling of wanting that positive… Just one.  I got that positive a few weeks ago but having tried for so long, I still had my guard up.  I tested almost every morning and took a peek whenever I “went” to make sure there wasn’t any blood..

Yesterday I missed a morning dose of Crinone (progesterone).  I took it as soon as I got home from work (around 5pm) then took my regular 8pm dose.   I thought I was in the clear.

But, on my way to work this morning I felt that all too familiar feeling – the gush.  I got to work and there was no stopping it.  My pants were soaked.  2 large clots came out.  One was gunky white (looking back, I think it was the Crinone build up).  I was devastated.  I sat in my office bathroom for about 30 minutes crying to my nurse.  Then crying to my husband.  Finally calling my coworker to save me from humiliation.  She drove me home where I laid in bed as instructed.

My husband met me at home and we just sat there for 5 hours staring at the clock.. tick & tock….

I could still feel cramping off and on (like contractions).  I kept drinking water and waited till our 2pm appointment.  I started clearing out The Bump & What To Expect update emails from my inbox.  I started to uninstall the Pregnancy app from my phone. The contractions slowed and the bleeding turned to spotting.

We left for our appointment.  As we were driving, I kept praying that our doctor would be kind, sincere, & gentle when sharing the dreaded news.  I was relieved to see the lobby was empty when we got there.  I couldn’t break down in front of other hopeful-mom-patients.  The nurse called us back and I started sobbing, I couldn’t stop.  I sobbed while I told her what was going on, I cried when I undressed, I bawled when I laid on the cold bed.  The doctor came in and immediately said the nurse filled him in on my story.  He started the sonogram and immediately panned towards a little moving dot… a heartbeat.  A healthy 6-week-3-day-old growing baby with a heartbeat! (There was a small section of the sack that looked like it was separating – so the doctor doubled my progesterone)

I looked over and noticed my husband with a tear in his eye – the first time I’ve EVER seen him cry.

So, here we are:  On bed rest.  Light activity, limited to carrying 5lbs or less.  But we are still having a baby!

10289889_10152431231074679_4489361788655038711_nTHANKING GOD EVERY MINUTE!!!