open letter

“Open Letter”

Thanksgiving 2013

 

Dearest Lily and Lucas,

Thank you.  Thank you for changing my life.

The last person I thanked for that very same thing was your father.

Let me tell you something about your father.  He wished for you – he wished for you long before I knew what to wish for.  I wanted to feel settled and secure.  To be ready.  To not only be ready for you, but ready for my life to take another turn.

I didn’t know then how much of a turn it would be, how long and windy that road would become, how rough and staggering the bumps that would surface.  Years of meeting with specialists, infertility testing, hormone treatments, endless blood work and ultrasounds, three procedures, and an IVF cycle – our last resort – built us a tough exterior.  Because the thing about not knowing is that there’s always another route to take, another step in the process.  And as frustrating as that was, we weren’t giving up until we had exhausted every avenue – tried, trusted, fought, sacrificed.  We told ourselves it would be worth it in the end.  Every tear, all the heartache, the stress and pressure, the gripping fear, the ultimate test of our patience.  It would all pay off.

And it did.  It so did, because we found out about you.  Two heartbeats, an extraordinary blessing.  I’ll admit it was a little intimidating, knowing we’d have you both at once.  But I considered it an actual miracle, in every sense of the word.

Every morning, I woke up thanking God for giving me you.  Every night, I sat quietly rubbing my belly to let you know I was there, grateful to have you inside me.  I kept track of your progress, how much you were growing, what you resembled.  A lentil seed… a grape… an orange… a bell pepper… a banana.  Each week, I’d send your daddy updates comprised of little pictures I’d create based on the size I believed you were.  From month one and on, we’d take a picture displaying the appropriate month’s number on my belly.  Oh, the joy… the joy was evident.  We’d often talk to you both, and daddy would kiss my growing belly to show you how much you were already so loved.

Whenever I heard the sound of your heartbeats, strong and sure, I was relieved.  I wanted to do everything I could to keep you healthy and nourished, to give you life.  I wanted to find a way to thank you for being the answer to our prayers.

Lily, to mommy’s surprise, you were the first to make an appearance.  Although I knew your chances were slim, I felt like my heart stopped when you were born and unmoving.  But then you shocked me again – by taking a breath – and there it was, a bubble of hope.  And here’s the thing about hope – it clutches hard and clings on.  I didn’t want to believe it were possible that you wouldn’t survive, didn’t truly hear those words until you were in my arms, so small and beautiful and still that my heart really broke in two.

Lucas, our strong boy.  You held on for three more days, against the odds, despite my body’s protests.  I was fighting for you, and you let me know you were putting up a fight too.  But then it was your turn to meet us, and you took your time.  Hearing you cry, watching you breathe, listening to your heart gradually drift away… It was overwhelming.  Overwhelming because you were ours, the likeness indisputable, your tenacity in your features.  You hung on for over an hour and then you were gone.  Gone from our world, but never in our hearts.

There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of you, and there will never be a day that will go by that you aren’t a part of.  We hoped and dreamed for you, and had even bigger hopes and dreams for you.  If I had a regret, it would be that we didn’t have the chance to give you what you deserved.

But through it all, you did give us something.  A purposeful life.  Perspective.  Different hopes and dreams.

You showed us that the bonds of family and friendship can survive anything.  That we can come together.  That no one is left behind.  That my mom could finagle herself into my cloud of desperation and sorrow and pull me right out of it, in her own way, coming to my rescue even when I didn’t want to be saved.  That my dad could give you each beautiful and meaningful Chinese names, finding a way to express his grief.  That my in-laws could stay to play card games to help us avoid another night of feeling utterly and totally alone.  That my sisters could bear food and movies and comfort to get me through physically and mentally.  That my sister-in-law could bring trees to plant in your memory.  That my brother-in-law could cry with us.  That Nan could lead the family in a prayer, honoring you.  That my best friend could sit with me quietly, passing the time.  That your daddy and I would be showered with cards and flowers and gift baskets from various aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends far and wide – offering support, or a shoulder, or simply a listening ear.  That people, these people, love and care for us – just as we love and care for you.

So this Thanksgiving, I thank you.  I thank you for making me a mother.  I thank you for showing me what an incredible father your daddy is, and reinforcing that he is the only man that can make me whole.  I thank you for giving me strength.  I thank you for watching over us, for giving me hope again for a future that will always include you.  And most of all, I thank you for finding a way to love us back through those around us, even after you’re gone.

With love always,

Mommy

 

 

The last image of our twins, facing one another...

only a few hours prior to Lily's unexpected birth.

supported

i'll be the first to admit that i'm not very fond of calling IT/IS support.  often i feel that rather than going through the hassle of being on hold, waiting for a ticket to be generated, getting stuck with a bored/annoyed/way-too-busy analyst, then basically sticking by the phone expecting a call back is not my idea of fun.  actually, waiting in general is not particularly fun.

 

but once in awhile i realize that i have to suck it up, because let's face it, i don't know everything.  and sometimes i really need a specialist to help me troubleshoot and fix my issue, especially when it's related to allowing me to work.

 

which brings me to tonight.  i had had issues remoting into my work computer this morning, figuring that once i went into work and rebooted, that it would solve my problem.  not so.  after restarting several times, i decided to call it in, considering i'm on-call for the holiday and need to be able to access my applications.

 

as it's thanksgiving eve, i figured that IS would be swamped.  i even went as far as assuming the person i'd get on the other end of the line might be rushed, or bothered, or maybe not exactly in the mood to speak to anyone.

 

i was wrong, so wrong, on all accounts.

 

the person that picked up assured me that he'd get me in, even though i was clearly skeptical.  he was patient while waiting for my laptop to reboot, filling in the silence with talk of college and sports.  he asked whether i'd noticed recent updates, explained that windows had recently pushed IE11 which had been causing problems for people remoting in.  he walked me through the steps to change my settings, giving vivid descriptions ("do you see the little blue alien with 2 dots over his head?"), all the while answering my questions about what these details meant in terms that i would understand.  afterwards, he made sure i was in before asking if there was anything else i needed, and ended the call by wishing me a happy turkey day.

 

overall, the call was maybe 15 minutes but it left me smiling and satisfied.

 

in customer service terms, this is expected.  in IS support terms, at least in my experience, this was exceptional.  he didn't pawn off my problem as insignificant.  he didn't make me feel silly or stupid asking questions.  and because of what he showed me, i was able to troubleshoot on my own when i received errors signing in to blog just now.  he'd passed that knowledge on to me, and had done it cheerfully.  it was clear to me that this person likes what he does.

 

over the weekend, my dentist taught me a saying in chinese about the importance of truly enjoying your work, because liking what you do is more important than any amount of money that you could make.  the saying went something like this:

 

"bu pa zwen da sau; dwo pa zo da zau."

 

it's roughly translated to mean, "don't be afraid of earning less; be more afraid of leaving early" (or in other words, dying early).

 

i couldn't argue with that logic.  i took my first job after college knowing i'd be grossly underpaid but deciding that the knowledge was what i'd gain.  and that would serve me in the end.  looking back, it had.  it's invigorating to think about.  and i hope that it shows, too.

a bone to pick

i've been determined recently to batch cook on sundays to cover our meals (lunch and dinner) for the whole week.  last sunday, amongst other things, i baked up 8 salmon fillets that were really quite delicious, if i do say so myself.

 

that is, until i unwillingly swallowed a fish bone during lunch today and it got stuck in my throat.

 

i can't remember the last time that had happened, but definitely remember how irritating it feels.

 

after attempting to clear my throat, cough it up, swallow repeatedly, and even stick my finger down as far as i could get it without gagging (okay, maybe some gagging), i did what i normally do in any interesting predicament.

 

i googled it.

 

the search for fish bone stuck in throat yielded a bunch of insightful home remedies.  here are some of my favorites (from www.home-remedies-for-you.com):

 

• Fill your mouth with as many marshmallows as you can, but make sure that you can chew them easily. Marshmallows normally have a thick and spongy texture and they become sticky, when you chew on them. Chew the marshmallows just a bit, so that they are sticky and can be swallowed without choking. Swallowing the big, sticky lump of marshmallows should take the fish bone down. Once the marshmallow clears your esophagus, check if the bone is still stuck in your throat. If necessary, you can repeat this exercise with another mouthful of marshmallows. Drink big gulps of water between each time you swallow.
• Apply a thick layer of peanut butter to a large piece of bread and chew on it. Swallow the bread while it is still a bit sticky. Instead of peanut butter on bread, you can also chew on a mouthful of nuts like peanuts, almonds, walnuts and pecans before swallowing them. Even after being well-chewed, these nuts remain coarse in texture and their roughness may loosen the fishbone. Wash all the nuts down your throat with big sips of water before trying again. 
• Boil a few olives in a glass of cool water and drink the juice slowly, while it is still hot. This remedy usually softens the bone and causes it to slide down the throat within a couple of minutes. Alternately, try to drink a few sips of warm olive oil, as it will have a soothing effect on the minor cuts in your throat, caused by the fish bone. 
• Bite off a large piece of banana and just hold it in your mouth for a minute or two, so that it gets moistened. Swallow the entire chunk, without chewing it at all. You may need to have a large drink of water to swallow the banana more easily.

 

as i didn't have any marshmallows, bread, peanut butter, or a banana on hand, i settled for the olive oil trick.  and since i didn't really have any of that either, i thought the closest thing was some of the hummus i had packed.  i mean, hummus is made with olive oil, right?  and so i subjected myself to swallowing some of the glop slowly.  to no avail.  should i add an "of course," here?

 

then i proceeded to gulp down a ton of water, which also had no effect.  that darn thing was really stuck in there.

 

so i looked up a couple more DIY remedies, resigned to try some at home, ridiculous as they sounded.  and you know what?  getting a good laugh in was probably the best remedy of all.  at least it kept my mind off the prickly feeling for awhile, until i realized i couldn't feel it anymore.

 

cured.

starting over

just heard this quote from an episode of criminal minds that really resonated with me:

“Sometimes the hardest part isn't letting go but rather learning to start over.”
― Nicole Sobon

an anniversary haiku

i wrote a haiku recently for a cousin (in-law)'s wedding, so this inspired me to write one for my wedding anniversary, which happens to be today.

 

anniversary

the sixth since our wedding day

still in love for life

 

ilu beb!  to many more celebrations and inspired poetry.

hoppy halloween

since i returned to work a few weeks ago, i noticed a couple of changes.  a new fax machine, a new copier.  a different shuttle bus.  and an elaborate spider web that spanned from a yellow parking pole to the key card machine which opened the gate to the parking lot.

okay, interesting.  interesting that it was still there the next day, and the next week, and had somehow survived the weather and all the employees who swiped into the lot everyday.  after awhile, it stopped bothering me as much, considering i didn’t see the creater of that piece of art, and i was super careful to skirt around the thing when i had to access the lot.  plus it was autumn, aka creepy spider season, so it had every right to be there.  right.

probably about a week ago, i noticed that most of the web had been destroyed.  it was kind of a shame, as i had sort of become accustomed to seeing it, and after all, it had been sort of festive.  october and all.  you know, halloween right around the corner...

so this morning, being one of those glum, rainy, yucky days, i rolled down the window reluctantly, not wanting to be splashed.  in the time it took me to get my ID badge and move towards the window, something appeared in my peripheral vision.  something big.  something suspended there.

forcing myself to look, it was a spider, and i would bet my bottom dollar that it was the spider, the one that had been MIA for weeks.  the thing was beige, and something about that au naturel shade makes my insides squirm.  within seconds my fingers groped for the window button, but to my horror, as my window went up and up, the thing was coming down, down, down, legs squirming, INSIDE my car.

“ohmygodohmygodOHMYGOD!” i yelped, as it closed in on me and i managed to park the car, unbuckle myself, and jump out of my seat onto the console.  i tried to blow it away from me, but that only made it drop towards my seat, which still partially held the bottom half of my body.  too close.  way too close.

i looked around for something, anything, that i could use to get this thing out of my car.  my eyes caught on a balled up tissue in the side pocket of my door.  summoning up some courage, i used the tissue to disconnect the spider from the web i couldn’t see, throwing the tissue over it, which landed on the floor between the door and my seat.

taking a breath, i let myself into the lot, trying not to look down as i found a spot and parked.  quickly.  my skin was crawling and i was pretty sure i could feel the thing creeping up my pant leg.  ick!

i picked up the tissue and studied it.  no mr. spidey.  grrrreat, so he was in the car somewhere.  i stuffed it back into the side pocket, grabbed my purse and lunch tote, and made a speedy exit.

in my car window, i scrutinized my reflection, making sure i didn’t have some beige blob on my person.  in the clear, i looked down at the floor of my car.  a starburst wrapper.  another tissue.  geez, when did i get so messy?  and you know what?  it didn’t help that the floor of my car was beige.

i almost walked away.  almost.  thought it would just die in my car and that would be the end of it.  out of sight, out of mind.  even closed the door and was about to lock it, then told myself that i’d have to drive home tonight, and what if it were still alive then?  under my seat?  and it would be dark then too, so i wouldn’t be able to see it crawl towards me...

a shiver went through me.

with a groan, i opened the door and stuffed my belongings on the front seat.  studied the ground.  where was it?  picked up the tissue again, and ack!, it was there.  okay, it wasn’t that big, maybe the size of a nickel.  or a dime.  but good, at least i found it.  i thought for a moment, seriously considered leaving the tissue next to my car, decided i really couldn’t litter, and tried to figure out a way to make it crawl onto the ground.  strapped for time (i couldn't be out here coaxing a damn spider all day, darnit), i rubbed it gently onto the ground.  it stood there, unharmed.  bright against the wet blacktop.  it dared not to move.  ha!  who was boss now?  i had boots on, and it wouldn’t take much for me to smash it to bits.

instead, i just picked up a leaf and covered it.  then grabbed my stuff, took a giant leap away from it, and locked my car.  phew.

hoppy, er, happy halloween.