Dear Second-Born Son

 

Dear Second-Born Son,

         Let me assure you that I am not writing you this letter out of obligation. There was a time when I felt that you also deserve one because I wrote to your older brother when he was only a few months old so I knew I had to wait for the right moment. Now that you are two years old, I know I am not driven by guilt. I have so many things to say to you. I am very proud to say that your dad and I wanted you so bad. You are indeed an answered prayer. Because of you, I will always have respect for the discerning abilities of babies. I say that because I know you sense a lot by what you see, hear and feel by experiencing life with us - by seeing that someone else has come before you and is doing pretty well. He is alive and pretty happy. You most likely sense that you can be a little more reckless because I have done the figuring out before. Been here and done it. And your instinct is probably right - I am more relaxed this time. Even though most things are still a learning curve for me, I pretty much know how I want to take care of a baby and I am now able to stand by my choices. You don’t talk much but you probably know that you are safe and loved - that you could jump into the pool and your dad will always catch you, that you could fall a thousand more times and I will always kiss your booboo, or you could cry and I will go running and offer a hug even before I understand what’s going on. Forgive me for bringing up your older brother too much. His existence will always mean something about who you are. When we had him, he had our full attention. Not so much with you. You were born seeing that you are not the only child, that you are not the only one we love. Most of your brother’s things were brought brand new but you get the hand-me-downs. But these things don’t matter. In fact, things do not matter. The things that you cannot see are the ones that do. Someday you will know what I am talking about.

 Your birth says a lot about you. You came out less than 5 hours before we were going to force you to come out. In the future, you might take a lot of time, but you are still going to make it. That is my prayer for you. This world is broken and there are many cruel people out there. But we can still find beauty and awesomeness amidst the brokenness and good people still exist. I am hoping and praying that you will grow up to be one of them, and inspire others to do the same. I love you too much that it is tempting to think that you are my possession - but you really aren’t. First of all, you are God’s - and knowing that is comforting and terrifying at the same time - but that’s just the flesh and the spirit talking inside of me. I’m excited to share life with you and go beyond this poopy, drooly, messy, noisy stage of life. I am not complaining; I am just expectant. In the meantime, let me end this letter and get some sleep - for tomorrow, my human alarm clocks will start my day once again - will drain all my energy but will fill my love tank to overflowing.

 

With love,

Mommy

My First Letter to My Son

Dear Jhun,

I am writing you now because one day, things are going to change and it will seem like yesterday when you and I spent one of the craziest stages of our lives, as a new mom and a new baby. As I write, you are spending time with your dad. Yes, there is life outside mommy and I have to keep reminding myself that. Sometimes, I have to rationally tell myself that you are safe with him every time I have to back off so you can have your ‘men time’. He is ecstatic about having you in his life too. It also takes effort for me to trust friends who offer to hold you. Call me crazy but at times, images enter my mind, of them dropping you on the floor or letting you roll off the hill in your stroller, but I am still sane, so the images go away and I realize I’m not the only one who cares for you.

You are 7 weeks today. You survived probably the most crucial moments of your infant life – getting out of a tiny hole, leaving the comforts of your life in the womb and staying at the hospital a little bit longer because of jaundice and oh, don’t forget our struggle with your latch. I wouldn’t know which one was the most traumatic for you. Life is hard as a new mom but I’ll never know how hard it is for a newborn. I was heartbroken when you started refusing to breastfeed after experiencing the bottle. But I feel proud of you when I look at you now, happy as a clam with my milk and getting chubbier each day.

I haven’t had a decent sleep since you came and I don’t own my time anymore. I have become a 24/7 on-call caregiver and your rapid changes compel me to be flexible, to overlook chaos and forget stability – all these despite the lack of sleep and lack of experience. Yet, as my prize, I get to experience your smile, your funny attempts to express yourself through your coos and enjoy the scent of milk on your skin. I don’t know when I’ll have my next free time, but you are fed, clean, safe, sound and thriving – and I already feel more successful than Oprah. I pray multiple times each day for various seemingly petty reasons – that you would keep napping while I rush to have lunch or take a shower or that the snoring sound in your chest is not pneumonia. My prayers are not always for the small things, though, for I pray that you will live up to your name, Jhun David - be as loving and faithful like your grandfather Jun was and become a man after God’s own heart like King David in the Bible.

Your dad and perhaps, everyone else in the world think I have become a little crazy since I had you – worrying all the time and sometimes feeling responsible for every bug bite, every cold and every constipation that you go through as a baby. I got to tell you - my heart breaks a little every time you cry, every time you are trying hard to sleep but can’t because of stomach cramps or whenever I see a rash on your face. It is crazy but I think that’s what we call ‘love’. I haven’t experienced this kind before so it can be a little overwhelming. I am convinced that if I am not careful, this love could be dangerous to you at some point – if I express it in a way that would not give you room to grow and be the kind of man God has planned for you to be. Again, call me crazy but I am already picturing myself scolding you for refusing to make your bed, or for not doing your chores, or talking you out of an unhealthy relationship with a girl one day. If someday, you might break a woman’s heart, remember that mine was the first you broke. Yet, I want you to remember that I will always be there for you, no matter what.  

I am praying for you Jhun because even though I feel like I am your Wonder Woman, I know I cannot always shield you from the ugly sides of life. I pray that you will be a Superman to many people, by God’s grace and according to His will and purpose for your life. If one day, you might doubt your worth as a person, remember these days when God did not only express His love for you by compelling me and your dad to take care of you despite all the challenges, but projected His very being through your existence. You are worth my back pains, this drool on my shoulder, my aching breasts, these stretchmarks and these tired eyes. I got to go now, to check whether you didn’t roll over the bed and suffocated yourself.

Your crazy mom,

Jill

                                                                                                                                                

The Father's Heart

On a nephew’s birthday, I was in a room full of kids including my niece Theara. Theara left the room leaving me thinking someone will watch for her outside. Little did I know that she got inside their room. A couple of minutes later, commotion broke in the house. Theara had accidentally locked herself inside alone. We heard her frantically crying while telling her how to get out. My heart would skip a beat every time she led out a deep cry of frustration. I was so worried myself, all I could say was, “Don’t cry baby! It’s going to be okay!”

Then his dad came to the scene – my younger brother: concerned yet calm. He tried pushing the door so hard with his arms but it just made Theara cry all the more. She was screaming, “No! Stop it!”

My heart was crushed.

We tried breaking into the windows which seemed impossible. We thought of calling the carpenter neighbour who might just break the door knob.

Then just before we fell for more silly things like get a backhoe, his dad lowered himself and started speaking to her through the door – telling her he’s got a lollipop and she'd better get out of their soon to get it. All she needed to do was follow his instructions. My brother calmly told her two year old daughter to hover towards the lock, lift it and push it to the left.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Dad and daughter embraced – tears streaming down her cheeks.

And it dawned on me how powerful the words of a father are and how crucial it is to follow his instructions.

Looking at my brother’s effort, I knew he was the most desperate to get her daughter out.  He didn’t care about the door, his arms, the doorknob, the windows. Her freedom is everything to her.

Equally important is Theara’s part in breaking herself free. She wanted freedom and she knew her father was doing his best but she had a role to play – trust in him and follow every bit of his instructions. 


So it is in our relationship with God. It's when we trust in Him, surrender completely and listen to what He says that we have just set ourselves free.

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"If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:11)