Ed turns 43

This may be the first time I’ve been in San Francisco for Ed’s birthday since he passed, and how funny it is that this time when I am in town for his birthday, Kaia is now here with us. Coming back to San Francisco and leaving have never really been easy for me… pretty much since forever. When Ed was around, I always felt guilt that I was leaving him in the abusive environment of my parents. I always wanted to support him more, but never knew how to. Then, he died. I always have lots of conflicting thoughts and feelings around coming and being home– mostly because of Ed and how he should be here but isn’t; my parents’ mental health; the hoarding and clutter and dilapidated state their home is in. To me, the house is cursed. I still occasionally fantasize about burning it down. But I realize it resembles hell to me only downstairs. As soon as you are on the third floor where my aunt and her roommate live, it actually feels warmer both temperature-wise and in terms of its ambiance. It feels brighter; there is more light. She actually decorates and maintains her home so that it feels pleasant to be in.

In my parents’ home, it does not feel welcoming at all. It feels dark, desolate, and there is literally a cold draft running through the house that you can feel if you are walking barefoot. It comes from the sunroom. The level of clutter and hoarding always seems a little worse every time I come home. In my mind, there are a few times when it’s gotten heightened: the first time I really noticed it was my first visit home a year after I graduated from college; every subsequent visit there has been more accumulation of junk. And it really skyrocketed after Ed died. It’s almost like to make up for Ed’s presence, my dad started hoarding more things and having most surfaces of the house that are meant for sitting… not sittable, if that’s even a word (it doesn’t look like a word). The breakfast table seats have perpetually been covered in food stuff, cans, and appliances. My mom said that my bed and Ed’s are always covered with piles of paper and other random things when I am not there. The physical clutter always makes me feel more stressed and annoyed every time I am there. And when I say even the slightest thing about it to my mom, she gets mad and tells me I am causing trouble and to just stop talking about it.

I always hoped that as my parents aged that they would finally do things to enjoy life and be more comfortable: renovate the kitchen and have it be easier to use instead of having all these random tables and stools everywhere with paper bags and old newspapers everywhere; create fixtures in the bathroom that would make it easier to bathe and shower in; actually make use of all the space they have in their house, which actually is a LOT of space for two people. But instead, they do nothing and seem to only make it more uncomfortable as time goes on. The amount of time my parents spend separating out compost and trash is completely insane. My hope is based in just that: hope. It’s not rooted in anything they’ve ever indicated they wanted. I really don’t know what they are doing with their lives. I wonder what Ed thinks looking down at all this, wondering what the hell our parents are doing. I have no idea what they live for. My mom loves to talk about how depressed she is, but she doesn’t do anything to help herself, and this was even before Ed died, so it’s not just because of that.

I wish our parents the best. I really do. I just wish they’d learn to stop and enjoy life and all the privileges they had instead of picking fights about stupid, senseless things. It probably won’t happen, but I still wish it would.

I wonder if Ed were still alive today if he’d still be at home. It would be an even worse hell in many ways if he was still living there with them, likely getting tortured alive. My mom was never going to be at peace with Ed, alive or dead, as awful as it sounds.

Happy 43rd birthday, Ed. I am happy you are free from the hell that is that house on 20th avenue and that you are enjoying yourself truly, somewhere out there. You are free… free from all the pain, suffering, torture of that miserable house. You are free. But our parents are not and likely will never be.

“Nom nom nom”

“You are so obsessed with your baby,” my nanny said to me a couple weeks after she started with us. She had yet to learn this then, but my road to having Kaia was not an easy one, or one I take for granted at all. Every time I look at her, I still can’t believe she’s here, even after over eight months have passed. I still have a “Road to Emmie” folder of all my needles, hazardous waste box, embryo transfer, and ultrasound photos on my phone to remind me of that trying journey. I still can’t believe I had a healthy, complication-free pregnancy, and a relatively easy and smooth birth and recovery. Every day since, I give my thanks every night and tell her how grateful I am that she is here and that I have her. She is truly the greatest gift of my life. Every day, I feel lucky to have her.

My nanny is right, though: I am obsessed with her. Even the littlest things she does I tend to marvel at. Here’s a funny example: I never really quite understood where “nom nom nom” came from when people would write or text that about food they found delicious. People oftentimes call tasty food “noms” or “nomz” on social media. I’m pretty sure there are endless variations of hashtags around “noms.” Then, out of nowhere, while Kaia is eating different solid foods, I literally hear her say’ “nom nom nom nom” between bites and while chewing and digesting her food. I was like, THAT IS IT! That’s where “noms” comes from!! My baby loves her noms!!

Poor with money, rich with love

My nanny is a happy person. When we have moments together when I am cooking or pumping or preparing Kaia’s solids or breast milk, she likes to tell me about how she is still so in love with her husband, who she has been with since high school (she’s 59 and he’s 60 now, so that’s a LONG time), how they still keep the flame going by doing little cute things for each other. She tells me how much she loves her children, her grandson, how close she is to her daughter. She loves to share stories of her sister who lives in Florida and how when they visit and stay with each other, they steal each others’ clothes, jewelry, and handbags, and the other has no idea it’s happened until they’ve already flown off. Then they squabble about it and laugh it off until the next visit. She told me about the time when she and her husband finally bought their own home in Mount Vernon, how dilapidated and unlivable the inside of the house was when they first moved in. But after three months of repairs and renovation with her handyman uncle’s help, the inside of their home is like new and feels comfortable, like a real “home sweet home.” They love to host family and friends at their home often, and she says there is nothing better in life than family.

“We may not have much money,” she says to me often, “but we have so much love in our family. And that’s better than all of Jeff Bezos’s money.”

On the one hand, there’s my nanny, who lives paycheck to paycheck who enjoys life, loves and values her family, and has functional, loving relationships with her family. She has a beautiful, comfortable home that she loves and is proud to bring everyone into. On the other hand, there’s my parents, who have no money concerns at all and could easily live lavishly until they died at age 120, but they are miserable, constantly seeking fault with everyone else, hate their relatives, and willingly choose to live in a dilapidated, cluttered, dirty home, a place where they hate having guests of any kind.

I thought about this for a while today. It really does not have to be an “either / or” situation, but in this case, it is. I’m happy for our nanny. I’m not happy for my parents… not in the least bit.

Tiny foodie baby embraces fish and goes “nom nom nom”

Today, Kaia had salmon for the first time. After seeing how well she did with sardines all week, I wasn’t surprised to see her embrace her steamed salmon with garlic and black pepper. She clearly loves to self feed; the spoon feeding doesn’t always seem to work with her, and she very much prefers to be in control of what goes into her mouth. Sometimes, she gets a bit too aggressive with her big bites, though, and she ends up gagging and spitting the food out. I always wonder what she is thinking when she’s presented new foods and deciding what to eat and how much, if she actually understands what I mean when I am doing exaggerated modeling of chewing and big bites, and telling her to “chew, chew, chew!”

When I started using social media years ago, I always thought it was a bit comical when I’d read about people talking about or making the “nom nom nom” sound while eating something they enjoyed. But then I realized in the last few weekends while feeding Kaia… that it actually sounds like she makes that exact same sound. She goes between “mmmmm” and “maaa maa maaa” as well as “num num num” over and over again while eating something she seemingly enjoys.

So, did “nom nom nom” actually originate from baby sounds while eating?

When your nanny misses you

I figured that my nanny would have been really excited to hear that I’d be away most of yesterday because it would mean I would be completely out of her hair. She wouldn’t have to worry about my lurking around and observing her. She could do what she pleased in the apartment without any watchful eye. But apparently, she told me she wasn’t actually that happy that I was away and missed me. My nanny MISSED me. She must be nuts! She’s the exact opposite of any nanny who posts on the Reddit nanny group!

I asked her today if she enjoyed her freedom with my being away. And she responded, “You know, you’d be surprised. Kaia isn’t the only one who missed you. I missed you, too! I was wondering how your day was going, how your meeting went, and thinking of the things I would have said to you if you were here. So I actually wasn’t happy you were gone. I’ve gotten used to working with mom in the house!”

We get attached to those we spend time with, and I suppose that also applies to hired help and how they feel about their bosses. I guess I’m not so awful to have as a “mom boss” after all. 😀

“Khana Khaya”

I was on a casual Zoom call with my team this afternoon to welcome a new colleague who joined our team. But I realize that most of us hadn’t really been on a call anytime recently to discuss non-work things. So an Indian colleague of mine asked me if the reason we named our daughter Kaia was for the Hindi phrase. I asked her, what Hindi phrase? And she said “khana khaya,” which is a way of greeting someone in Hindi to ask “Have you eaten yet?” So, she said to me, “khaya” in Hindi means “has eaten.”

I cracked up and could not stop smiling. WHAT? A version of the name we chose for our daughter actually means “to eat”??? How did we not know this? Or rather, how did Chris’s mother, who is fluent in Hindi, never tell us this? I was completely mind boggled by all of this new knowledge. This colleague totally made my day.

I hope my sweet baby Kaia grows up to be a voracious eater who explores and embraces all cultures’ foods.

Nine years later.

Dear Ed,

It’s the 9-year anniversary of when you bid farewell to this earthly world and left all of us. I can’t believe this much time has passed since I last heard your voice, since the last time I saw your face… your sad face. Some days, it feels like an eternity since I last saw you. Other days, it feels like just yesterday.

This time last year, I was pregnant with your little niece. And now, she’s over seven months old, thriving more than I ever could have imagined. She’s crawling, rolling, eating solid food, babbling and laughing. Sometimes, I see you when I look at her face. Sometimes, I imagine what your reaction would be to hear that she was born healthy and safe. I imagine what it would have been like to have you meet her in person for the first time, knowing she’s your little niece, your little sister’s baby. And these thoughts crush me. I try not to think about it too much because it gets me emotional and teary, and since she was born, almost everything makes me want to cry. I guess Kaia’s birth has made me even more in touch with my feelings, especially the sad and happy ones. I wish you could meet her and be a part of her earthly life.

I hope to raise her to be curious, thoughtful, empathetic, generous, and kind. I hope to share stories of you with her so that you will still be a part of her life, even if she will never meet you in person. I’m not sure if she will be able to have the privilege of having a sibling as I did with you, which makes me sad because I know I benefited so much from having you as my sibling in my life. Occasionally, I still have moments when I feel extremely lonely knowing you’re gone, knowing I have no living siblings. I don’t know if Kaia will feel that way if she has no siblings. But I think about the future, about our parents slowly growing older and needing care and support. And though money isn’t an issue for them, someone will need to facilitate all of that. And that burden is on my shoulders… my shoulders alone. It would have been more easy to fathom if you were still here so that we could support each other and grow old through life together. But you’re gone.

My heart is heavy. Kaia’s birth and presence every day is a reminder to me of my own mortality. She reminds me how quickly time is passing. Every minute that passes is another minute closer to death. Every minute gone is another minute lost. Sometimes, I just want to freeze time. Sometimes, I just want to go back in time and see you again, say and do other things to and with you. But I can’t. I won’t be here forever, and one day I’ll join you wherever you are.

Did you ever ask… what is this all worth? Why am I still here? Why do I still want to be here? Or were you so deep in your pit that you just stopped asking questions because the hurt was too much? I get it. I get it. Recently, I’ve been asking myself what I’m doing with my own life, or if I’m making the right decisions, or if I’m doing the best I can for baby Kaia. She gives me a new purpose in life, though. I’ve never realized how happy I could be until she arrived. Now I understand what other mothers say when they say that they can see their hearts beating outside their chests. She’s my little heart.

I will do my best to take the very best care of her and to have your spirit live on through the both of us. You will always be a part of our lives, Ed. I love you forever. Kaia will love you, too.

Love,

Yvonne

Resemblances

Every day of Pookie Kaia’s life thus far, I have watched her gradually change and grow. Each day, her face has morphed just a little bit. Some days, she looks very East Asian. Other days, she looks more mixed. Some days, she seems fair skinned, and other days, she appears more brown. There have been many times I’ve looked at her and marveled over how much she looks like Chris. Other days, I smile to myself when I see how she has my exact same nose. Some days, her eyes look like mine, and other days, they look more like Chris’s. I also admire what Chris’s mum calls Kaia’s “Mona Lisa smile.” It’s a sort of half smile that makes you wonder what is going through her mind, and what she might have up her sleeve. It’s like she wants to keep us guessing.

There are days when I have seen my baby self from my old photos… right on her face. And then, there are even the days when I see little tinges of Ed in her face. I always loved looking at Ed’s baby photos. He was always smiling and giggling… and looked so carefree. He didn’t have the weight of the world on him them. He didn’t quite comprehend criticism or self hate then. I suppose part of the reason I love his baby photos so much is that in the life I can remember sharing with him, I never remember ever seeing him that happy or carefree… ever. So the photos capture a moment in time when he was that carefree and happy. They capture something in him that I was never able to witness in person.

Tomorrow will mark nine years since Ed passed away. Nine years ago, I wasn’t anywhere near the mindset of having a baby anytime soon. And now, we have baby Kaia here with us. Though she has two uncles, only one of them is still living. I wonder to myself how I will incorporate Ed into her life so that she knows him.. even though she will never meet or know him. I don’t want to make her sad or think too much about mental illness or death. But I do want her to be aware of life vs. death, about the circle of life. I dislike how many western parents today shield their children from even knowing what death is. That just doesn’t sound healthy or realistic.

Even Kaia’s birth and mere presence in my life is a reminder to me of my own mortality, that I will not be here forever, that we will not be together forever. I just hope she always knows she is deeply loved and always has my support.

Baby goes to Flushing

Although we’d taken the baby to Queens a few times, we hadn’t yet gone to Flushing with her and did that today. Flushing is not necessarily the easiest place to take a stroller with its crowded streets and endless hustle and bustle, not to mention that most of the food spots barely have enough space for adults to sit and eat, but somehow, we made it work. We were able to get seats in places where you usually have to fight for seats. We sat in the New World Food Court to feed her and eat some Uighur kebabs and a samsa. We even managed to get through a torrential downpour where we got separated for about half an hour. I was waiting for fish dumplings that were being cooked to order, but I wanted to pick up my favorite soy milk and pork-cabbage bao at the same time. So I walked a block away to get the milk and bao and ended up getting stuck there due to the flooding. Chris and the baby found shelter inside a random nearby apartment building, where the doorman offered to let them stand inside. When I reunited with them, Kaia couldn’t be phased by anything, and it was like business as usual for her.

We returned home earlier than expected to have our fish dumplings and bao and with a good assortment of Asian greens for me to eventually wash, cut, and cook. I’m looking forward to having our baby be an Asian greens connoisseur.

When handing down baby items brings sadness

A friend of mine is having a baby in a few weeks, and we offered to give our handed down bassinet to him and his wife since it’s still in great condition. Since Kaia has already transitioned into her crib as of mid-June, I told him that the bassinet would be ready to pick up anytime now. I had already washed the mattress pad cover and cleaned the bassinet after Chris took it apart. But because we’re used to the music attachment on the bassinet, we’ve still been using it at bedtime to put Kaia to sleep. Granted, it’s a bit redundant given we already have the Hatch sound machine playing soothing water sounds, but we partially just turn it on out of habit.

As I cleaned all the bassinet parts, I felt so sad to think that last night would be the last night we’d play the bassinet music for Kaia. We had many, many nights of playing this same music to soothe her to sleep, so there’s some nostalgia attached to this music maker and bassinet. This bassinet was the first place she slept in, the only bed she slept in outside of the hospital and one hotel for the first six months of her life. I obviously would be crazy to keep the music just to remember those bittersweet early days, and I know I have to give this away to hand off to my friend, but it still makes me sad and wistful. My baby is getting so big so quickly. She’s no longer a newborn. She’s a growing baby, and soon before I know it, she’ll be a toddler and then a little girl running around everywhere. The newborn phase was really hard, no doubt, but I can’t believe it’s already over.

So as ridiculous as it sounds, I was a little happy when my friend said he couldn’t come to pick up the bassinet today and would come on Friday instead. Well, I guess that’s at least three more nights of Kaia.. or well, myself, enjoying and reminiscing with this music.