After the 2020 pandemic year when the AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan walk was cancelled (well, it was “virtual”), AFSP restarted their OOTD walks this year, and the Manhattan one was located again at Pier 16 downtown. I actually raised more money this year than I did last year, which I wasn’t sure about since this is the eighth year I’ve done this, and sometimes people get donation fatigue, but this year I did decently well. The walk had a pretty good turnout for the crowd, larger than I had imagined, but it was less involved: they ran out of t-shirts by the time I arrived, so they said they’d be mailing me one. A lot of the previous booths that were set up weren’t there this time. No snacks or drinks were provided, either, but I didn’t really miss that anyway. It’s always one of those sad but empowering events every year for me. It’s sad to see how many people have lost loved ones from all walks of life at these events, but it’s at the same time inspiring to see people who actually care and want to make a difference for people suffering today and in the future.

It’s been eight years since I lost Ed. Every year that passes, I get farther and farther away from remembering what he was like, what his voice sounded like, what his being was about. But I still try hard to remember. This event seemed different for me personally though, because at this event, little Pookie Bear came along, too, snuggled up inside my womb. This year, she walked for her uncle’s honor and memory. And next year, I hope she will be able to come, too, in her stroller that her dad will push, to continue Uncle Ed’s legacy in her life.

I’m currently in the process of creating a baby registry, as I’ve been told by many people that regardless of the situation, people are going to want to give me and my baby gifts, so I might as well make it easier for them by curating things I actually want. The last thing I want to be doing postpartum is going to stores and returning things, or going to the post office to mail back returns for refunds/store credit. As I’ve started this process, I’ve also been grateful for some of the things others are willing to regift or hand me down that their babies have outgrown. I have zero problem stretching the use out of an item as long as it’s in decent condition, even though my mother immediately scoffed at anything that was even worn once or used at all (“it needs to be new! You don’t know how dirty it could be!”).

One friend has offered to give me her bassinet that her baby is currently using since her baby has almost outgrown it already. My cousin has offered to give me a brand-new, still sealed play mat since he was gifted two more than he actually needed. There are also buy-nothing and mom groups in Manhattan where moms are eager to pay it forward by giving away lightly used clothes or other toys.

Our usual cadence of going to Costco is about once per quarter since I started using my dad’s membership, but given our move last month, it didn’t really make sense to go in June or July of this year, so we decided to wait until this month. Chris decided to rent a Zip Car and take us to the Edison, New Jersey, location, which is obviously a very heavily Indian area, which means that the local Costco would cater to its local clientele. And that it surely did: walking through the aisles, you could see the South Asian influence with multiple varieties of 10-20 lb. pack lentils, different types of basmati rices, instant dal, paneer, and even a decent selection of Indian teas.

We weren’t sure if we’d be coming back to Costco again this year, especially with my due date in December (who knows how mobile I will be come November, as if all goes well, I will likely be waddling around and unable to be of much help with anything!), so we stocked up on a lot of things we probably wouldn’t normally get as much of. Instead of getting one 6-pack of Harmless Harvest coconut water, we picked up two. I got a large bottle of avocado oil even though I’m only half-way through my current one. We also stocked up quite a bit on chicken, beef, lamb, shrimp, and fish, which will likely be more than enough to carry us through the beginning of 2022 (and, which has definitely made our freezer space quite snug and full!).

We also noticed that baby wipes and diapers were on mega sale, so Chris insisted we buy these. Even though I’m already into week 23 of pregnancy, I still feel a bit uneasy about buying things so far ahead of baby’s arrival, but I figured… I can’t live my life in fear, and I have to remind myself that to date, everything has gone well, so we need to start “nesting” and preparing for the little one’s arrival. So that took up a LOT of cart space for us, too.

It was probably our fullest Costco shopping cart yet. Although we did pick up a huge bottle of avo oil for a friend, it was also our biggest Costco spend to date, at just over $500. And of course, we ended the Costco visit with a 100% berry smoothie.

 Today, I woke up at my parents’ house and looked out the window. Another dreary, disgustingly grey day in the Richmond District here in San Francisco greeted me outside. If I had to wake up to this every single day as my place of residence, I would likely get seasonal depression and have to seek treatment… or, just MOVE. Not seeing the sun or blue skies every single day is so depressing, especially in a time of year that is supposed to be summer.

Yesterday, when I arrived back in the Richmond District, while it was sunny and warm downtown, it was more overcast as the car drove further out into the Richmond. The temperature drop was notable, but it was still a comfortable 66 degrees once I got out here. When I got into the house, my mom complained about how hot it was. “It’s so hot and humid here!” she cried. “I can barely take it!”

I had no idea what she was complaining about. If she thinks 66 F is hot, she seriously is so out of touch with reality that her comment warranted zero response.

I met up with two of my best friends today, and to defrost, we went down to the South Bay and had Singaporean food at a restaurant with outdoor seating in Palo Alto. It felt so good to wear a light dress without a jacket and walk around without my teeth chattering. It also felt good to be away from the negativity of my family.

After lunch, we spent some time chatting and bantering at a nearby park, then went window shopping at the Stanford Shopping Center. One of my friends has an 8-month old at home, and so she was showing me all kinds of potential things to pick out for my baby: strollers, car seats, bedding, mattresses, cribs, bassinets. She was trying to be helpful, and while it was good to be able to see and touch these things in person while also getting advice from someone who actually has experience with this stuff, I could feel my head spinning. Why does picking out baby stuff have to be so complicated, I thought to myself. Why can’t someone else do all this for me? While we generally believe that having choices is the best, sometimes, there are just SO many choices to make, especially in the baby department, that the entire process becomes so exhausting. When our other friend suggested going into shops to look at purses and accessories, I could feel immediate relief. There’s no stress looking at handbags or earrings, especially when compared to picking out the right stroller or crib for your baby to ensure optimal safety.

To my dearest Ed,

It’s been eight years since you departed this life. This is the first year that, in the weeks leading up to your death anniversary, I did not feel a great anticipation of seeing you again. Every year up until this year, I’ve always gotten a sense that I would “see” you again, whether that was through my dreams or through some sign you’d send down to earth, letting me know that you were still out there watching over me. This year, I did not feel anything. Maybe it’s my subconscious’s way of expressing that I’ve finally and fully accepted that you truly are gone. Granted, I’ve never been in denial that you were gone. It’s more that I always got the feeling that your spirit was still nearby, especially while I’d be at home in San Francisco.

A lot has happened in the last year. My relationship with our parents is further strained. This country is even more torn apart than it already was. People are somehow still dying from COVID-19 because they don’t believe in science and refuse to get vaccinated. I went through IVF and finally got pregnant (lucky you, you will never be acquainted with the total hell and roller coaster that process is).

I’m still pregnant; every day I wake up, and every night I go to sleep at night, marveling at the fact that I got pregnant and am continuing to be pregnant. I can’t believe how lucky I am. Each night, I give thanks for what I have and what my body is carrying and nourishing. When I found out I was originally pregnant with twins, I got so excited. One of my first thoughts was of you and what your reaction would have been like. I imagined your face breaking out into a huge grin, marveling over the idea that you’d be an uncle to identical twin girls, in shock at the idea that this was actually real. I teared up thinking about the fact that you will never get to react. You always liked babies, and you especially liked little girls. I just thought it was another sign that it was meant to be. And when one of those twins’ hearts stopped beating, I was just shattered. I wondered if embryo baby angels go to heaven, and if they do go to heaven, do they get to meet people like you, who actually lived a real life on earth and have since departed? Do you know where the embryo baby angels go?

I always knew you’d be a great uncle, the kind of uncle who would always want to spend time with nieces and nephews, the one who would spoil them rotten with all the gifts they wanted, even if it was against my own wishes. It really breaks my heart that you will never meet this baby, this little human I am growing. You will never get to hold her, feed her, kiss her, spoil her. I will never know what it’s like to have my child meet her mama’s brother and have a relationship with him. The world robbed you of so much, and by default, it’s robbed me and my future child of so much, as well.

As this pregnancy has progressed, I’ve reflected a lot on our shared childhood and involuntarily had a lot of flashbacks of awful situations that happened between us and our parents. As we all know, no parent is perfect, but I am especially and painfully cognizant of the effect that they had on you. I want to take the good that they did and emulate it, but I especially want to take the bad that they did and learn to never repeat the same mistakes of the past. I don’t want to continue the cycle of dysfunction and tyranny. I want your little niece to feel supported and unconditionally loved. I think at the core, that’s what every parent wants; whether that is actually the result is a completely different story.

I hope you will look down on me and help give me the strength I need to be the best mama I can be. I will make sure to tell your little niece all about the great uncle she will never meet. You will still be a part of her life, even if you aren’t here on earth with us. Every day, I wonder if you are watching over us, giving us your blessings to continue with this pregnancy and ensure the baby is happy and healthy. I hope you are with whatever abilities you have; I need all the help and good vibes I can get — seriously.

I miss you. Every day, I think about you and miss you. I wish you could still be with us in a happier and healthier state than you were last in when you were here. The world still goes on, though, even when great individuals like you leave us. But I will never forget you. How could I possibly forget you? It still makes my heart ache thinking about all the sibling bonds that are out there, and how we no longer have one here in this world to actively continue. But I still feel you — just in a different way. I love you, Ed. I hope to see you again in my dreams soon since it’s been quite some time. So, when are you going to come again?

Love,

Yvonne