Category Archives: family

When Kaia saw her mama on TV

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Yesterday when I left to get to the CBS studio in time for our live segment on AFSP, Kaia was just finishing up her Saturday morning gymnastics class. So Chris took her home and of course, he got the antenna set up with the TV to see if they could watch me on CBS New York live. Kaia got quite the surprise when she saw her mama on TV. Chris got a few videos and photos of Kaia watching me on the live segment. She kept pointing and poking at me when I was on the screen. Her fingers followed where I went. And she kept saying over and over, “Hi, Mummy! Hi, Mummy!” when she’d see me on the TV.

I know Kaia doesn’t know what her mama does for work or for volunteering quite yet; she’s still a bit young. But I do hope that she looks back at these photos and videos one day and is proud of what her mama did to honor her jiujiu’s life. When Chris’s photos and videos had synced in Google Photos of my being on TV and Kaia watching and touching me on the screen, my heart melted to see how excited my sweet baby was to see her mummy on the live TV. It was so heart warming for me. In some ways, it almost made me more proud to see her reaction than to see myself on the TV!

Having a child is a lot of work. Having a toddler is beyond tough with endless ups and downs. But these “ups” make it all so, so worth it, and they are what I live for.

CBS New York Live – AFSP NYC Walk

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At 9:55 sharp, I checked into CBS’s studio just 3.5 blocks away. And at 10:25am, we filmed for five minutes – no cuts, all live. And this was how it turned out. It was a good thing the AFSP ED asked me to prepare a “why” statement a few days in advance because that statement ended up being what I mentally referenced when I was on the stage speaking.

After checking in at the front desk of CBS News, an assistant escorted us up an elevator and through a maze of long, seemingly endless wide hallways with exposed wires of endless colors. It really felt like those “behind the scenes” shots where you see performers go down long hallways before getting on stage. After what seemed like ages, we finally got to a “waiting room” where there was a lit up sign that said “ON AIR.” Signs everywhere said to keep our voices down. The producer came out to briefly introduce himself, told us that the hosts would ask us these several questions (never shared with us ahead of time, but hey, this is live TV!), and then asked which of us would answer what question. He said everything was already behind schedule, apologized for his brevity and the fact that everything felt rushed, and then got each of our lapel mics set up on us. He tested the mics and made sure they looked good on us without having wiring exposed oddly (my dress was particularly annoying, for some reason…), and then said he’d be back in about two minutes to get us.

Just minutes later, we were escorted onto the stage, where we met Doug and Jenna, the news hosts. They warmly greeted us, and we ran through how to pronounce our names, confirmed our AFSP titles/positions, who was going to answer which questions, and then clarified which camera (of the FIVE) there were to look at, or who to look at when. Our co-chair Scott answered questions about who and what AFSP is, I answered questions about why I joined AFSP and why I continue to support and fundraise for it, as well as how to get involved. It all went by so fast that before we knew it, Jenna and Scott were already in the out-tro view, where they were discussing how to seek help if you need it. Once the director yelled “CUT!”, they thanked us for coming on and commended us for being so vulnerable in sharing our stories and wanting to help others. For news casters, I really felt both of them seemed genuine, warm, and kind, which wasn’t really how I imagined anyone regularly on TV being with regular everyday people like us.

The entire experience was so frantic, fast-paced, and tight, with pretty much zero notice of anything that was about to happen. I know I would never do well in TV production, much less live TV production. But even though it went by so quickly, it was a pretty fun and interesting experience to see how live news is filmed at a major broadcasting station like CBS. I felt really honored and privileged to have this experience as a Walk committee member, volunteer, and fundraiser; it’s not like I have a real leadership role at the NYC Chapter for AFSP, so I realize it was a rare opportunity for me to represent them and share my personal story; they definitely instilled their trust in me in this way. It felt really good to be open about losing Ed in a very open and public way, and the conversation we had live, though very brief, felt very conversational and natural, the way I’d have it if someone were to ask me about my involvement with AFSP or how Ed passed. Even though he’s no longer physically here, he still lives on through me and all that I do. And I will never stop sharing his story and how much I love and care for him, even long, long after his death. I don’t want Ed to have died in vain. I want his life and story to live on.

“It’s really amazing that you both do this,” Jenna said, as she walked us off the stage. “I hope this doesn’t sound trite, but I think your brother and your friends (Scott’s friends he lost to suicide) are looking down on you and feel so proud of the work you are doing and how you are choosing to honor their lives.”

I do hope that is true. I really hope so.

AFSP featured on CBS News Live – preparation

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About a month ago, the executive director of AFSP NYC asked if I’d be interested in representing AFSP in the media, so I agreed to it. She said it would include things like TV, newspaper, and magazine interviews. Given that the Manhattan walk is just over a week away, we’re trying to get the word out about the walk more, and we were able to get a segment on CBS News Live because Cindy Hsu from CBS is on AFSP’s board. Two of our co-chairs were not available for the recording timing, so our director asked the third co-chair plus me to represent. I’ve never had any experience being on TV, much less live TV, but I figured it would be a good experience. I’d learn something and get exposed to a world I know pretty much nothing about. In preparation for the media coverage bit, our ED asked me to prepare a “Why I walk and participate in AFSP” statement. She said it would be particularly powerful coming from me because I have now been fundraising for AFSP for 12 years now. So, with some thinking and assistance from ChatGPT to tighten my messaging, I came up with this:

My name is Yvonne Wong, and I’m proud to serve on the AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan Walk Committee as a volunteer and fundraiser. This year marks my 12th Out of the Darkness NYC Walk to fight suicide and save lives. Each year, I walk in honor of my big brother Ed, who I lost to suicide in July 2013 after a long struggle with depression and anxiety.

Living 3,000 miles away in New York while Ed was in San Francisco, I often felt helpless and unsure where to turn for support. When he went missing and was suddenly gone, I was overwhelmed by guilt, anger, and grief. I couldn’t understand why he had to die, or why our community hadn’t taken his suffering seriously. In searching for answers, I found AFSP, one of the few organizations that openly addresses suicide—not just mental health in vague terms—and creates spaces for honest conversations, connection, and healing. 

Since then, I’ve shared Ed’s story openly, year after year, through fundraising and community events. What started as a small gesture to honor his memory has grown into something that has felt transformative for me. People—friends, colleagues, and even complete strangers—have reached out to share their own experiences of loss and struggle; many of them confided in me and said I was the very first person they’d opened up to about their losses and struggles. Through AFSP, I found a community of understanding, hope, and connection. I can’t bring my brother back, but I can help ensure that others know they are not alone. AFSP has given me a way to heal and to help build a world where fewer families experience this kind of loss.

Questions about mother’s milk, boobies, and what kind of milk comes out of a mother’s breasts

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In the last few weeks, Kaia has been thinking a lot about babies eating, feeding on mother’s breasts, and what she ate when she herself was a baby. This was all prompted last month when Chris’s cousin was visiting with her four-month-old baby, who is breastfed via her mother’s breasts. After an initially difficult road learning to feed, this little baby feeds on the boob like there’s no tomorrow. When she eats, Chris’s cousin said, everyone can hear her sucking and slurping away!

When the baby would feed, occasionally Kaia would come over and watch. Other times, she’d watch from a nice distance and comment to Chris or me that the “baby is eating.” Since then, she’s had all kinds of questions about how she ate when she was a baby.

“MAMA! When I was a baby, did I eat from your boobie?” Kaia asked.

“Sort of,” I responded honestly. “Sometimes you ate from mama’s boobies, and most other times you had mama’s milk out of a bottle because mama had to pump milk for you… because you had a weak suck!”

“I had milk from your boobies here?” Pookster replied, pointing at my breasts. “My mama’s big boobies!”

“Yes, you had milk from my boobies here,” I said back, smiling.

“Mama! Can I have some milk now?” Kaia said eagerly. And then without even waiting, she tried to pull down my shirt, get into my breast, and chew my nipple. Luckily, I had fast reflexes and prevented this from happening. And then alas, a tantrum erupted.

“I WANT BOOBIE MILK!” she yelled, demanding that she get breast milk that instant. I told her that there was no more boobie milk, that the boobie milk was there only when she was a baby. And now that she’s a big girl, her mama is all dried up (yes, really).

And just yesterday, she started caressing my chest while we were lying down before bedtime, and she asked, “Mama! Your boobies had milk when I was a baby? Was it cow or oat milk?”

I cracked up at this. “Kaia! It’s mama’s breast milk. It’s mama’s milk, mommy’s milk, mumma’s milk just for Kaia! No cow, no oat! Mama milk!” I responded, laughing.

“But if it’s not cow or oat, then what is it?” Kaia said back, clearly very confused. All she has known during her speaking life is cow or oat milk. And even though she’s had soy milk (fresh) and maybe some almond milk, those types don’t really mean anything to her.

And these are the toddler conversations I love and hope to remember always.

World Suicide Prevention Day

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Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. The international theme of World Suicide Prevention Day (WSPD) on 10 September 2025 is ‘Changing the Narrative on Suicide.’ Suicide is a serious global public health issue, with over 700,000 lives lost each year. Its impact extends far beyond the individual, deeply affecting families, communities, and societies at large.This year’s theme calls on people, communities, organizations, and government to foster open, honest conversations about suicide. By initiating these vital conversations, we can break down barriers, raise awareness, and create better cultures of understanding and support.

This is the 12th year that I’ll be participating in the AFSP Out of the Darkness Walk in New York City and fundraising to help stop suicide. It’s also been a painful year for donations. The donations have been slower to come in. When you’ve been doing the same fundraiser tirelessly year after year for over a decade, people get fatigued by hearing your story. They are naturally less enthusiastic to support you. Their time is limited, and with inflation and tariffs, their dollars don’t go as far as they once did. Hustling this fundraiser, for those reasons, is always awkward. But I keep doing this because I don’t know how else to keep Ed’s memory alive. As each year passes, it’s like his memory becomes more and more distant to me. The other night when I was thinking about him, I realized I had to think for much longer just to remember the sound of his voice. And that made me realize he hasn’t visited me in my dreams in ages for me to hear him speak. I wonder when he will come pay me a visit again. It’s been far too long.

These are the days I think of him even more: his birthday, his date of death, Thanksgiving and Christmas (because he always loved those holidays), and now World Suicide Prevention Day. I hope all this fundraising is doing some good, if even just a little. Sometimes, it’s hard to see what I am really trying to achieve by doing all this. But alas, I keep going.

Phone calls from PoPo and GongGong

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Since we got back from San Francisco, my mom has been calling occasionally to see how Kaia is adjusting to preschool and being back in New York. Given that Kaia is turning four in just a few months, she’s definitely far more aware of her surroundings and what’s being said around her now than she was one year ago. When people call, she always asks who it is. And now, she’s been requesting that we call PoPo and GongGong. She wants to “see” them via the video chat, but she doesn’t quite understand (or accept) that they refuse to do video calls with us, and that with them, it will always be voice-only.

The other day, my mom called, and Kaia asked if it was PoPo (she could probably recognize her voice through my phone) and asked if she could talk to her. She started waving and saying hi to PoPo. When PoPo asked her if she enjoyed San Francisco, Kaia responded, “Yes.” When PoPo said to Kaia, “Kaia, I love you!” Kaia even responded with, “I love you, too.” Even though I obviously have a complicated relationship with my parents, this still made me feel really happy inside to hear them communicating back and forth like this over the phone. I smiled at Kaia talking to her PoPo and then started laughing when Kaia replied “No!” when PoPo asked if she could come to New York and visit her.

Right after we got off with my mom, out of nowhere, my dad called. My dad hasn’t called me in three years since that difficult email exchange we had in August 2022, when he lashed out at me over something completely innocuous and lost his temper in a big way. He asked if Kaia was there, and then he actually asked to talk to her! I put my dad on speaker phone, and he asked Kaia how school was, if she was going home, and then called her a “good girl.” Kaia kept yelling excitedly, “GongGong! GongGong!” Then, he turned back to me and said it was time to go, and to take care. Then, we said bye and hung up.

I don’t think I will ever have an uncomplicated, 100 percent peaceful relationship with my parents where we fully understand or even accept each other. But after all that’s happened in our life together, I know deep in my soul that they tried the best that they could… even if their best was not always great with Ed or me. I know they love me and want what’s best for me. At the end of the day, I have an infinitely better and more privileged life than they could have ever even imagined for themselves. And a lot of it is because of them and what they’ve given me. And well, even if our relationship continues to be complicated, annoying, and absolutely infuriating, I do want them to have a relationship with Kaia, their only grandchild, and I want Kaia to know them and love them. So, these brief little phone exchanges have had a weird way of almost feeling like bits of healing for me.

I hope Ed is able to see all of this and smile down at us. I only wish he could also interact with Kaia directly in the flesh now.

First day of Pre-K was what I expected: lots of “big feelings”

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Thursday was Kaia’s first official day of Pre-K, aka 4K, aka preschool. She’s attending the same school as she did 3K, so same commute down to Chinatown, same building, same set of faces. But this time, she’s in a different classroom with different teachers and maybe a few different students. The enrollment is pretty low right now: we were told there are only six kids in her class, three returning (so she has two familiar faces with her right now). The other three kids are TBD. On the first day of school, it was just the three kids from last year’s 3K class, so a tiny group.

I picked her up at around 5 as I always do. Kaia was pretty quiet. She walked and willingy held my hand, but as per usual, she didn’t really want to talk much. She demanded treats (she got two mandarins). And on the way home, I had this prediction in my head that she’d probably have a difficult evening. And I was exactly right.

Dinner was painful. She whined and whinged through the entire meal. She expressed she didn’t understand why some kids were no longer in her class or school anymore (some had left for other, closer schools; others were moving up to kindergarten at elementary schools). She didn’t know why she wasn’t in her same classroom with the same teachers as last year (different class, higher level up, so different teachers). We tried to explain to her, but to no avail. She cried and was really upset. Her shower wasn’t any better; she cried almost the whole way through it. Drying her off, applying lotion, and blow drying her hair felt like an Olympic feat. I was mentally exhausted by the end of it. Before it was time for Chris to read to her and put her to bed, I just held her for a little bit. My poor, sweet baby: she’s just so confused about all these things all at the same time.

I figured it would take time to adjust to all the changes. This is a lot to handle for her age — so many changes all at once, and so many big feelings for such little people. But that’s what getting older is all about: handling lots of change all the time and figuring out how to manage your emotions all at the same time. People my age and older are still trying to manage all that without losing their crap.

Kaia tries to invade our bed and bring all her faves with her

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Co-sleeping is a practice that is not embraced or encouraged in the West, but in the East, it’s quite common for parents to share their beds with their kids as old as 10 to 12 years old depending on the country and region. Kaia is like any other child: she wants to feel safe and loved, and she feels that way when she is close to her parents. So it’s been a mini struggle on and off since she turned 1 to get her to sleep in her own crib, then bed. She’s now sleeping on her own with a little fighting here and there, but for the most part, she sleeps almost the entire night in her own floor bed. Sometime between 5-7am, she will wander over to our bed. And along with her, she will drag her favorite stuffed animal(s) of the moment, a random book, a blanket, her waterproof blanket (that we keep under her in case she wets the bed).

Although I do want her to sleep on her own, I would be lying if I said that I did not think this was cute, or if I said I genuinely did not like it. It’s her way of showing that she needs us, that she wants to be close to us, and who can fault that in a young child of her age? When it’s between 6-7am, I always like it when she comes over with all her stuff, taps my back, face, or head, and says, “Mama! Mama! I wanna come!” And then I help her onto the bed, under our covers, and she gets in. Then, if I don’t wrap my arms around her, she demands, “Mama, cuddle! Cuddle!” And then I hold her, and she drifts off into a little sleep before it’s time to start our day.

“Keep her out of my bed,” Chris always warns before he falls asleep for the night. For the most part, we do. But sometimes, I don’t really mind it when she comes earlier than 6am. It’s a way to show she loves us and needs us. And I’ll savor these sweet moments as long as I can.

Scallion bun (cong you bao) in San Francisco is better than in New York

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Growing up, there are certain Cantonese bakery staples that would be on rotation at home. The most common ones were cha siu bao (Cantonese BBQ pork buns, both the baked and the steamed ones), nai huang bao (egg custard bao), lian rong bao (lotus seed bao) (my grandma’s favorite), occasionally ji wei bao (cocktail / coconut bun), and cong you bao (scallion bun). One of my dad’s absolute favorites was always the twisted scallion bao. There would be an ample sprinkling inside and out of chopped scallions/green onions, plus the bun would be rubbed generously with a lightly seasoned scallion oil. When made correctly, the bao itself was soft, pillowy, and nearly melt in your mouth tender and good. The best ones were like eating air; you had no idea how much you had inhaled until the whole damn twisted bun was gone.

I didn’t realize how good I had it getting Chinese bakery items through my grandma and parents growing up (plus the times when relatives would generously bring over the almost expected pink cardboard boxes of Chinese bakery items) until I moved out on my own – it was all trial and error by my own buying and tasting. When I was going to school in the Boston area, I had to figure out which bakeries were good on my own. The same was the case when I moved to New York. I had to rely on strangers’ reviews on Yelp and Google, plus the occasional word of mouth. Most were hit or miss. To this day, after 21 years of living on the East Coast, and 17 of them spent here in New York City, I can say with sadness that I still have not found a bakery that makes scallion buns as good as the ones I can find in San Francisco.

I was reminded of this when I visited two excellent bakeries in San Francisco this last week. We visited Cherry Blossom Bakery on Clement Street in the Inner Richmond, then Good Mong Kok Bakery, one of my family’s staple SF Chinatown bakeries. Cherry Blossom Bakery has had rave reviews and been on my list a while, but I finally popped in while going to the nearby Kiss of Matcha for my reliable and favorite matcha latte. I chose the scallion bao, which was $2, and whe we brought it home, I realized it was truly perfect. It was exactly as I described above: pillowy and deceptively light, with a rich scallion flavor throughout. It must have been made with an excellent tangzhong, or milk bread base paste. Then a couple days later, we visited Good Mong Kok, which my family has been going to as long as I can remember. They are known for lines out the door and very typical Cantonese (read: yelling/barking and quick) service. I picked up one cha siu bao for Kaia, and one scallion bao for us. The scallion bun was very long and only $2. And it was also super pillowy, almost flaky at the edges, and unbelievably fluffy.

While digging into Good Mong Kok Bakery’s perfect cong you bao, I lamented why I still haven’t found this perfection in New York City across any of the endless Chinese bakeries I’ve visited. Even my most favorite Manhattan Chinatown bakeries don’t come close to this taste or texture. Or worse, they like to add extraneous toppings like sliced hot dog (ugh), Chinese sausage (unnecessary), or other meats. When you have a truly delicious and perfect scallion bun, it needs nothing else other than its perfect dough, scallion oil, and scallions.

Who knows – maybe next year when I come to San Francisco, I may just be desperate enough to buy a bunch in bulk and freeze them to bring back to New York with me…

The colander and pictures of JiuJiu around the house

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When we got back to my parents’ house last Friday evening, I saw that my mom had washed and begun cutting a bunch of yu choy. I told her to leave them there and that I’d cook them for us for Saturday dinner. I proceeded to cut the stalks and leaves the way I always do, then blanch in a pot of boiling water with a drizzle of oil, a few shakes of salt. After about a minute, I drained them in the largest stainless steel colander I could find in their kitchen. And even though I have three of my own stainless steel colanders in my kitchen back in New York, there was something about the construction of this deep, rounded colander, the size, quantity, and placement of all the little round holes, that made draining the yu choy almost instant. I watched the water speedily drain out, and there I was left with perfectly cooked yu choy, almost fully drained with a few shakes.

This colander is probably around 25 years old. I still remember it: Ed purchased this piece in the housing wares department at Stonestown Macy’s just shortly after he started working there. Once he began his job at Macy’s in the “domestics” (bedding) section, he basically went through the house to see what could be improved upon, and he chose this colander as one of the first things to buy for the kitchen. To this day, the colander is still in excellent condition, and it functions just as well as I remember it when it was brand new. Our parents’ kitchen still has a number of things Ed bought that they continue to use. Every time I see another one of those pieces, I feel a little more sad that he’s no longer with us. There’s even a set of Lenox Butterfly Meadow crystal flutes that are still sitting in their original box, unused, on a dining room shelf. They match the dessert plates and tea cups that Ed got me for my birthday in January 2012.

On Saturday morning, Kaia kept asking about the pictures on display in the dining room, so I took a lot of the framed photos and after dusting them off, I pointed to the faces and named the people for her. Some of them needed no naming: of course, she immediately recognized Chris’s face and mine, as well as both my parents’. With the younger baby photos, she did need some help. But after a few photos of Ed, she started picking up on him. And when I’d show her subsequent photos of Ed, within a second, she’d say it was her JiuJiu.

It’s hard to believe it’s been over 12 years since Ed died. It’s been 12 years of coming back to this house, knowing that he will never be here to greet me or see me ever again. And even though it’s been that long, I still have that feeling in the back of my mind he will just surprise me and show up. I say that every time I come home, but since Kaia has been around, it’s almost like I feel it even more deeply — maybe because it’s on behalf of both Kaia and me. He never knew what it was like to be an uncle, to have a niece as sweet and cheeky as Kaia Pookie. It’s not just about me anymore. I know he would love to meet her.

But it will never be.