Category Archives: Love

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.

The little train playground and the power of Kaia’s memory

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After a morning of roof time, a flu vaccine, and puddle jumper in the pool “swimming,” Kaia ate lunch, and I asked if she wanted to go to the little train playground in Riverside Park. She said she did, so I gathered her things and brought her to the playground. When we got there, she immediately asked if her friend Camille would be there. I was stunned; she played with a little friend named Camille in early June, which was the last time we came to this playground. I befriended her mom, and we exchanged numbers to potentially arrange future play dates.

I texted Camille’s mom to see if they were in the area, but unfortunately, her baby was napping. So she said they wouldn’t be able to come out until 4:30-5, which was the time I was planning to leave to get dinner ready. I told Kaia that she wouldn’t be able to see Camille today, and though she was sad, she moved onto other play structures. Because of Camille’s mom’s message, we went down closer to Pier I to see what kid festivities there were, and lucky for Kaia, there were two bouncy slides and a bouncy castle waiting for her! Nothing gets her more excited than bouncy structures! When I found out that it was free entry and not a private event (just to be sure), she immediately took off her sandals, handed them to me, and got in line for the castle. She ended up spending more time on the bouncy slide since it didn’t have a time limit like the castle. It was a far more eventful afternoon for Kaia at Riverside Park than I had originally imagined!

I was happy to let Kaia take part in all the kid fun, but I think what really shocked me was the power of her memory at such a young age. We’re already halfway through September, yet she still remembered the name of a kid she met and played with just once over three months ago at this same playground. Every time I hear people talk about toddlers as though they’re unintelligent, babbling, nonsensical beings, I always feel a bit defensive inside because I know exactly how quickly they learn and absorb new things, and how intelligent they really are — all by observing and interacting with my own Kaia Pookie.

Cooking for my new mama friend in Staten Island

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When my best friend told me she was pregnant earlier this year, I told her that after she gave birth, I would come over to cook for her. She expressed interest in all the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) foods, the Chinese postpartum confinement meals, and I immediately got excited, thinking that I could come cook these things for her. When I gave birth and was recovering, I didn’t have anyone come cook for me. At that time, there was another COVID outbreak. My mom didn’t want to travel, and my aunt apologized to me multiple times for not being there to take care of me and cook for me, even though she’s not even my mother and not even my blood-related aunt. What my aunt did do, which I am still grateful for to this day, is she went out and bought and labeled all the ingredients for the Chinese chicken wine soup (ji jiu tang) she would have made for me. She bought the ingredients in quantities so large that I’d just run out of most of them just recently. She sent me instructions for how to make the soup. And since then I’ve made it a number of times and love it; it doesn’t even matter if you’re recovering from childbirth or not, but the soup itself is so soothing and comforting. It’s like a Chinese hug in a bowl. As I made this soup numerous times, I thought to myself — I’d love to make these types of dishes for a postpartum friend so that they can also have a hug in multiple bowls.

So, after taking a regular subway train, an express bus (for the first time ever — and I also just learned it’s not covered by my OMNY card; I had to pay $7 extra just to board this damn bus!), and then a quick $15 Uber ride, I was at my friend’s house in Staten Island. I had prepped a number of things leading up to this day to streamline cooking at her place. In her kitchen, I quickly made myself at home and made these dishes: multigrain congee (purple long grain rice, brown long grain jasmine, white short grain, and yellow mung beans, sweetened with a hint of rock sugar and flavored with a touch of ginger), pork rib and fig soup, braised “eggs hugging tofu” (jidan bao doufu), dang shen herbal tea, and hawthorn berry, longan, and cinnamon herbal tea. Yesterday night, I made stir-fried water spinach/morning glory/ong choy/kong xin cai with shrimp paste and packed it in a glassware. I also made a batch of lactation cookies with galactagogues; after my own breastfeeding journey, I honestly don’t believe in “galactagogues,” but who is going to say no to cookies?! I used the same recipe I used for myself that has oats, flaxseed, butter, coconut oil, and 70 percent Valrhona chocolate feves; this time I didn’t have brewer’s yeast, but I did throw in a handful of sliced almonds for extra protein. In Chinatown, I also picked up some “spongies,” or “paper wrapped sponge cakes” for her since I know she likes them.

It was a pain in the ass to get to her house in Staten Island to say the least. Her fiance had the stomach flu, so he wasn’t able to pick me up or drop me off at the ferry. I ended up having to take the express bus (on a tight schedule) and two Ubers (more money than I would have liked) to get there. I was also carrying quite a load of things on my back. So by the end of the day, I was pretty tired, and my shoulders were sore and tight from the weight I carried. All of that was annoying, but in the end, I didn’t mind it because it meant I got to cook for my friend. And I find meaning in helping her, in cooking for her, in nourishing her, and in making sure she feels loved and supported. There is meaning and purpose in doing all that to me. And while most people would never do something like this for a friend, even a close one, or someone who was not blood related, I think that most people in general want to do the easiest, laziest thing just to have more time for themselves to do things that are completely and utterly meaningless. It is so easy to send a baby gift, to attend a baby shower (it’s a party where you get free food!), to even send a DoorDash gift card or pay for someone else’s food delivery. All of the above acts, other than attending a shower, can be achieved in minutes and with just a few clicks of a keyboard or taps on your smartphone. What is not easy is traveling to your friend, who lives over 1.5 hours away from you by public transport, cleaning her kitchen, making her several home-cooked dishes and teas that you know she will like and savor, and cleaning all that up so she doesn’t have a mess left behind.

I think we really show the people in our lives we genuinely love and care for them when we do the things that are not easy, that actually require real thought, time, and effort. I was chatting with some colleagues about doing this for my friend this week, and they all commented and expressed how amazed they were that I’d do something like this; it’s odd to me because most of them know I love cooking, so it’s really not a strenuous effort on my part. I kind of shrugged. For me, as I stated above, this is meaningful. I want to spend time doing things that make me feel like I’m fulfilling a purpose and giving my life meaning. What do they spend time on that they find meaningful?

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’s first day of preschool, and reflections on my child’s developing humor

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Today is Kaia’s first official day of Pre-K, aka 4K, aka preschool, aka the year before official, formal schooling begins for her. We’ve been really fortunate to live in New York City in a time when Universal Pre-K (UPK) has not only been offered, but also because we were lucky enough to get a spot for both 3K and 4K, and at a Chinese immersion school that offers 3.5 fresh meals cooked onsite every day. While she dawdled with breakfast this morning, Kaia was eager to start the day and get into her promised first-day-of-school outfit: her much awaited Ms. Rachel dress, complete with a polka-dotted tutu that Chris got her months ago; I decided that today would be a good momentous occasion to finally let her wear it. Plus, it would likely fit her better at this point since we sized up. We took first-day-of-school photos with her updated letter board from birth, and Chris took her down to Chinatown for her first day in class with Ms. Vicky, her new teacher. Her new Chinese teacher is still to be confirmed.

It’s always a bit bittersweet, these milestone moments in her life. Every day is a gift watching her grow, develop, learn new things, find her likes and dislikes, and become her own person with her own unique personality and quirks. But every day that she gets older and reaches these moments, I know that she’s moving farther and farther away from me. Because that is ultimately the goal of “successful” parenting: getting your child to grow into an independent, self-sufficient adult who no longer “needs” you to survive. Every now and then, I go through old photos and videos on my phone or in our Google Photos, and I re-watch videos of her from a few months ago, a year, two years, three years ago.. even from the minute she was first born. It’s crazy to see how much she’s developed in every single way: her speech development, the clarity of her words in two (sometimes three – Cantonese!) languages; how her limbs have gotten so much longer, how the sweet baby fat on her cheeks, arms, legs, and all her joints has been slowly dissipating. I get nostalgic. Yes, those days were tougher, but my heart was always so full of love and a deep sense of gratitude that I was lucky enough to not only become a mother, but also become a mama to this very cheeky and sweet Kaia Pookie.

A friend of mine who has two kids told me that the one thing she regretted not doing more of with both kids was taking more videos. She says most people focus on photos because they’re easier (and they take less space!), but she said she always loved the sounds her babies made, and also being able to see how their sounds progressed into babble into words and then finally into sentences. So because of what she said, I probably still, to this day, take more videos than I should (if only Google Photos storage was free….) because I hate to think I could actually forget one of these cute or hilarious moments with my Kaia. Some of my absolute favorite videos of her are when she’s simply busting out laughing over something that I don’t quite understand, but because I just adore the sound of her laughter so much, I go along with it. There was a video when I kept encouraging her to “Biiiite. Chew, chew!” And she’d laugh hysterically every time I said “bite,” and then repeat it after me with her high-pitched laugh. Another video that I love is when I did a version of “peek-a-boo” and keep my back towards her. Holding her Habbi Habbi language wand, I’d jump up and say, Haaaabbiiiiiii, HABBI!” And when I’d say the second “Habbi,” I’d jump around to face her with the wand, and she’d crack up almost nonstop; she even slapped her hands together and on the bed multiple times.

I thought about Kaia’s early humor, her “peek-a-boo” excitement, her imitations, her “tricks” on us, and when she now tries to hide things in her one of her palms and wants us to guess which palm has the secret object, all while I was reading this place on “Why Are Kids So Funny?” in The New Yorker this week. The article mentions how babies often wait a month or two to smile, then a couple more to start laughing, “but once the humor gets going, it achieves what A.I. researchers might call a ‘fast takeoff.'” Human beings are distinctive for many reasons, but maybe “the speed with which children embrace humor suggests that it, too, is fundamental to human nature. We laugh, therefore we are.” Humor “allows human beings to find their way into their own humanity and into the human community.” I was reminded of just days ago when at dinner time, Kaia noticed that my mom calls my dad “Cal,” short for “Calvin.” When my mom calls him “Cal,” many people’s ears will register this as “cow” because of her accent, and so Kaia thought this was so funny that she started saying, “Cow, mooo! Cow, cow, go home, cow!” I am not quite sure where the “go home!” part came from, but the “Cal sounds like cow” connection cracked me up. And she said it so many times I lost count. My mom found this funny, while my dad didn’t quite get it and carried on as though he didn’t hear anything.

I love watching my child laugh and be funny, and trying to elicit our own smiles and laughter. I love watching her find her way into her own personality, her own humanity, and finding her way with the people around her. Watching her experience life and grow has definitely made me a better, more empathetic person. It’s honestly hard for me to even imagine life without this little cheeky bubba of mine. And with her, there is most definitely far more humor in my own life, our shared life.

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.