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

                                                                                                                                                

My First Literature Teacher

One of the things I will forever thank my mom for is how she exposed me, at a very young age, to the world of literature, or should I say, how she began to expose me to the world through literature. When my sister and I were little, she would have us rest in her arms before going to bed or during siesta time, to tell us the story of the monkey and the turtle, the rabbit and the turtle, and many other short stories.When I turned five, she would sometimes come home from running errands and surprise me with a storybook. The first one she got me was William Tell. She wouldn't just buy me books, she would read them to me. One of my favorites was Little Red Riding Hood. My mother is neither a professional teacher nor an actress, but she would read the lines with feelings (sound effects and all) that I easily transcended to many places, with different characters, learning different life lessons. One day, she bought me and my sister a volume of fairy tales that came with a tape and a book. We would read the book together while listening to the tape. Until now, the voice of Rapunzel's prince still rings in my mind: "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

So at a young age, I learned that heroes naturally co-exist with villains and that I should identify myself with the hero or heroine who will always pursue goodness and righteousness.

My mother does not read stories to me now that I am 25, but what my mother did to me when I was young indeed opened my mind to the big world, to different kinds of people, to unexpected events and to the knowledge that we have to be victorious in life. When I am going through something, I say to myself: "When this is over, I'll be stronger and wiser."

I am still a work in progress in terms of learning how to live life but now that literature has been a part of my life, the possibilities are endless.

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Thank you, Mama Carmen. You are the best Mom in the world! I love you...