“如果我们能把死去的人召唤回来，那是多么邪恶的一件事！她不是对着我，却对着那牧师说，我在神里得以平安。她微微一笑，却不是对着我，然后转身归回那永生的泉源。How wicked it woule be, if we could, to call the dead back! She said not to me but to the chaplain,"I am at peace with God." She smiled, but not at me. Poi si tornò all' eterna fontana."
《唧唧如晤》C.S.路易斯著
A Grief Observed, C.S Lewis.
If I could, would I not rather call this child back? This little baby of mine.
Come back, my sweet baby. Come back.
Let me feel the warmth of your skin. Let me stroke your tender face. Let me cradle you in my arms. Let me see the sparkle in your eyes when you smile.
Let me.
Let me be a mother.
That is my will.
But your Father, and also my Father, He has a different will.
His will for you, is to be loved, by a greater love I cannot possibly have the capacity to have given you.
His will for you, is not to have to walk and toil in this broken world.
His will for you, is not to have to be broken and tainted by sin.
His will for you, is not to have to not know Him for a single day.
His will for you, is to know no sin, no sorrow, no pain, no struggling, no darkness, no fear.
His will for you, is to be perfect, from the beginning to the end.
His will for you, is perfect, my child. Perfect.
My will is only out of my fleshly desire and selfishness.
Though I know His arms are a much much better place for you to be, oh, how foolish am I to even try to compare, yet I know my heart's desire is for you to be in my arms.
Yet may His will be done. May His will be done. Even if it means brokenness in this body. But what isn't broken, in this world, my love?
Thus even though I mourn the fact that, you are a child that has never seen light in this world, yet I rejoice that, you, my child, is with the eternal Light.
It is well with my soul.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Lamentation of A Lost Unborn Child
Two weeks ago I was thinking to write up some silly poems about morning sickness, that how something my brain wants badly doesn't necessary agreed by my nose. Something my nose says OK doesn't necessary make it through my mouth or my tongue. And even if I ignored all those three super-picky-and-just-being-a-pain body parts, and pushed whatever edible through my mouth, if my stomach didn't agree, it would still come out and go straight into the toilet.
I don't know how two weeks later I am writing about grieve. I don't know how I get here.
I don't know how two weeks ago I was still planning for this new life, and two weeks later I am planning how to say good bye to the life which is already gone. (and I had not the chance to tell him/her I love him/her).
I don't know how I went from throwing up because of the morning sickness but encouraging myself it should pass and I would have a baby to hold and kiss in my arms, to throwing up because of morning sickness but I can only tell myself it will not last long because the baby is now dead, and my body will realize it sooner or later.
I don't know how I went from expecting to feel the life moving in me to now I am expecting cramps and pain.
I don't know how I went from knowing there would be contraction and pain waiting but with it would come a baby crying and kicking his/her legs, but now the contraction and pain my waiting will only bring forth a dead child that is not completely formed yet.
I do not know how we went from trying to name a child, with hope; and now we are trying to name a child, with sorrow.
I don't know how I get here. This is not where I want to be, Lord.
Have I not cried those words to Him again and again the past week?
This is not where I want to be. This road of brokenness is paved with my sorrow and tears. This is not the road I want to travel on, my Father.
But it is as clear as it can be that this is where He wants me to be. This is the road He wants me to trudge on. Yet it is not only paved with my brokenness, my sorrow and tears, but His brokenness, His sorrow and tears as well. This much I know.
Has he not been merciful to me to take the pain away from me?
It was the longest week in my life. Of waiting. Of weeping. Of hoping yet being fearful of hoping at the same time. The night prior to Monday was the longest night. Will the daybreak ever come, Father? Will the sun ever come out again? Will rest eventually come to my weary soul? Are you here, my Father? Will you give me peace and strength and rest? He lifted His protection over my pain that night. The tears that I thought I had finished shedding came pouring out. Pain of losing my child. Pain of losing part of me, my flesh and blood. I should have known He was preparing me, for what was coming Monday. Oh would Monday ever come? Came it still. I tried to stay in bed as long as possible that morning. I did not know how I would make it to the 2.30 appointment. I felt like someone who was waiting for her announcement of fate. Would it be life? Or would it be death? I watched the clock. It kept ticking. I had never felt the passing of time with such intensity. I heard every second ticking away, tick tock, tick tock; I willed it to go faster, I could not bear it no more. I felt like I was suspending in the air, not knowing I was going to crash downward, or being lifted upward. With every breathe I breathed, I cried to God silently, strength, Father, peace, Father.
Strength, Father.
Peace, Father.
I don't know how many times I have prayed for them. I had never prayed for them so desperately.
I knew there would be tears, either it would be tears of overjoyed, or tears of sorrow.
And those tears did come. They came silently this time. Like a gentle creek, tickling down my cheeks. Tears of sorrow.
The same ultrasound technician uttered the same words at the doctor's office.
I am sorry, still no heartbeat.
I don't remember the doctor said he is sorry this time. He came in and he was all business. He still called my name wrong. He still "encouraged" me to do a D&C. He actually laughed when I told him I needed prescription to help cope with my morning sickness which seemed to have gotten worse.
He actually laughed.
I was shocked to the core.
Though I was not weeping, but my heart was bleeding, over the loss of my child. Yet this man had the gut of laughing at my misery.
He said he could not understand why I would want to wait for my body to take the action while I am so miserable with my morning sickness. He doubted that I would last long, waiting. I told him coldly, we shall see.
He did not care to look at the rash I had on my thigh since I saw him last week that had turned into blisters and becoming painful.
When he laughed, I got all the answers I had last week, about whether he understands or cares.
He does not understand. And he simply does not care.
How can this man doing what he is doing, taking care of women's bodies while they are pregnant with lives, and helping the birth of a new life not care about lives?
How can a man's heart became so callous with coldness, and maybe just gain?
How can he looked me in the eyes and said in the end, we will go through this together, again, when he does not really care?
It is not the same with me, you see. It is not the same with me anymore, losing this child.
I wish it was as easy as you think. I wish I could get over this quick. I wish I do not have to lay in my bed, dark at night, and cried my heart out to my God.
I wish I don't have to feel like I am drowning in my own sorrow.
I wish my sorrow would not come when I least expecting it. Sometime while I was eating, not even thinking about the baby, yet a sob came out, and it all came tumbling out. The tears. The sorrow.
I wish I would not lose it when my children only doing what a 2 and a half year old toddler will do, pushing their own limits and their mothers' limit, yet this mother lost it over morning cereal thrown deliberately all over the floor for laughter. This mother lost it and cried and screamed at the child's face and punished her. This mother beat her chest and bang the table and wanted to hurt herself. This mother wanted to run away. This mother screamed at the top of her lungs at her fearful children, do you know how hard is this? Do you know I am having a hard time? Do you know I can't do this? This mother was actually screaming at God. This mother did and said the things that she told herself she would not do them to her children. And the pain and fear in her children's eyes hurt her more and broke her heart more. This mother was shocked and ashamed.
Where did it all come from? The sorrow and bitterness came, you see. They came without notice. They came without being wanted. They came and they stayed.
I wish it was easy as I always thought. I wish I could be stronger. I wish I could tell you I will be fine soon. But there is no woman that I have talked to, that said this will not hurt. None. Zero. It hurts us women, when we lose an unborn child. It hurts, it brings sorrow.
I wish I didn't have to write this. I wish I didn't have to, I really do.
I thought of keeping this journal of pain, of sorrow, of depression, to myself. Away from public eyes. Where there will not be any judgment. Where I will be protected and not felt exposed. Not raw. Not naked.
Yet when I think of many that do not understand what I am, or other women are going through, my heart hurts. When I think of those who find themselves unexpectedly, travelling down on the same path I am trudging on, with fear and tears and confusion (how can this hurt so much), I know I have to write this. I have to write this for myself, I have to write this for those who wants to know how I am feeling, I have to write this for those who can't believe what they are experiencing and they are not sure is it normal or they are simply going out of their mind.
I want to tell them, yes, there will be pain, but He will take it away. He has taken my pain away. I no longer feel it. That part of my emotion is numbed. He has given me mercy.
Yes, there will be sorrow. I still have the sorrow. I do not know how long it will last. But I believe He will heal my sorrow too. I believe out of my sorrow, out of this broken heart, He will resurrect something beautiful out of it. I don't know what it is yet. I am still waiting. I can only hang on tight to Him at this time and wait.
Yes, there will be emptiness. There is this big big hole in my heart gaping at me. All the time. I can feel it. But I believe He will, and only He can fill that hole up.
Right now, I can only pray, and wait for Him.
With sorrow.
With emptiness.
With tears.
But not without hope.
Not without hope, my love. Not without hope.
As long as I am with Him, I know I have hope.
Hope that is beyond life and death. and with that hope I wait on.
I don't know how two weeks later I am writing about grieve. I don't know how I get here.
I don't know how two weeks ago I was still planning for this new life, and two weeks later I am planning how to say good bye to the life which is already gone. (and I had not the chance to tell him/her I love him/her).
I don't know how I went from throwing up because of the morning sickness but encouraging myself it should pass and I would have a baby to hold and kiss in my arms, to throwing up because of morning sickness but I can only tell myself it will not last long because the baby is now dead, and my body will realize it sooner or later.
I don't know how I went from expecting to feel the life moving in me to now I am expecting cramps and pain.
I don't know how I went from knowing there would be contraction and pain waiting but with it would come a baby crying and kicking his/her legs, but now the contraction and pain my waiting will only bring forth a dead child that is not completely formed yet.
I do not know how we went from trying to name a child, with hope; and now we are trying to name a child, with sorrow.
I don't know how I get here. This is not where I want to be, Lord.
Have I not cried those words to Him again and again the past week?
This is not where I want to be. This road of brokenness is paved with my sorrow and tears. This is not the road I want to travel on, my Father.
But it is as clear as it can be that this is where He wants me to be. This is the road He wants me to trudge on. Yet it is not only paved with my brokenness, my sorrow and tears, but His brokenness, His sorrow and tears as well. This much I know.
Has he not been merciful to me to take the pain away from me?
It was the longest week in my life. Of waiting. Of weeping. Of hoping yet being fearful of hoping at the same time. The night prior to Monday was the longest night. Will the daybreak ever come, Father? Will the sun ever come out again? Will rest eventually come to my weary soul? Are you here, my Father? Will you give me peace and strength and rest? He lifted His protection over my pain that night. The tears that I thought I had finished shedding came pouring out. Pain of losing my child. Pain of losing part of me, my flesh and blood. I should have known He was preparing me, for what was coming Monday. Oh would Monday ever come? Came it still. I tried to stay in bed as long as possible that morning. I did not know how I would make it to the 2.30 appointment. I felt like someone who was waiting for her announcement of fate. Would it be life? Or would it be death? I watched the clock. It kept ticking. I had never felt the passing of time with such intensity. I heard every second ticking away, tick tock, tick tock; I willed it to go faster, I could not bear it no more. I felt like I was suspending in the air, not knowing I was going to crash downward, or being lifted upward. With every breathe I breathed, I cried to God silently, strength, Father, peace, Father.
Strength, Father.
Peace, Father.
I don't know how many times I have prayed for them. I had never prayed for them so desperately.
I knew there would be tears, either it would be tears of overjoyed, or tears of sorrow.
And those tears did come. They came silently this time. Like a gentle creek, tickling down my cheeks. Tears of sorrow.
The same ultrasound technician uttered the same words at the doctor's office.
I am sorry, still no heartbeat.
I don't remember the doctor said he is sorry this time. He came in and he was all business. He still called my name wrong. He still "encouraged" me to do a D&C. He actually laughed when I told him I needed prescription to help cope with my morning sickness which seemed to have gotten worse.
He actually laughed.
I was shocked to the core.
Though I was not weeping, but my heart was bleeding, over the loss of my child. Yet this man had the gut of laughing at my misery.
He said he could not understand why I would want to wait for my body to take the action while I am so miserable with my morning sickness. He doubted that I would last long, waiting. I told him coldly, we shall see.
He did not care to look at the rash I had on my thigh since I saw him last week that had turned into blisters and becoming painful.
When he laughed, I got all the answers I had last week, about whether he understands or cares.
He does not understand. And he simply does not care.
How can this man doing what he is doing, taking care of women's bodies while they are pregnant with lives, and helping the birth of a new life not care about lives?
How can a man's heart became so callous with coldness, and maybe just gain?
How can he looked me in the eyes and said in the end, we will go through this together, again, when he does not really care?
It is not the same with me, you see. It is not the same with me anymore, losing this child.
I wish it was as easy as you think. I wish I could get over this quick. I wish I do not have to lay in my bed, dark at night, and cried my heart out to my God.
I wish I don't have to feel like I am drowning in my own sorrow.
I wish my sorrow would not come when I least expecting it. Sometime while I was eating, not even thinking about the baby, yet a sob came out, and it all came tumbling out. The tears. The sorrow.
I wish I would not lose it when my children only doing what a 2 and a half year old toddler will do, pushing their own limits and their mothers' limit, yet this mother lost it over morning cereal thrown deliberately all over the floor for laughter. This mother lost it and cried and screamed at the child's face and punished her. This mother beat her chest and bang the table and wanted to hurt herself. This mother wanted to run away. This mother screamed at the top of her lungs at her fearful children, do you know how hard is this? Do you know I am having a hard time? Do you know I can't do this? This mother was actually screaming at God. This mother did and said the things that she told herself she would not do them to her children. And the pain and fear in her children's eyes hurt her more and broke her heart more. This mother was shocked and ashamed.
Where did it all come from? The sorrow and bitterness came, you see. They came without notice. They came without being wanted. They came and they stayed.
I wish it was easy as I always thought. I wish I could be stronger. I wish I could tell you I will be fine soon. But there is no woman that I have talked to, that said this will not hurt. None. Zero. It hurts us women, when we lose an unborn child. It hurts, it brings sorrow.
I wish I didn't have to write this. I wish I didn't have to, I really do.
I thought of keeping this journal of pain, of sorrow, of depression, to myself. Away from public eyes. Where there will not be any judgment. Where I will be protected and not felt exposed. Not raw. Not naked.
Yet when I think of many that do not understand what I am, or other women are going through, my heart hurts. When I think of those who find themselves unexpectedly, travelling down on the same path I am trudging on, with fear and tears and confusion (how can this hurt so much), I know I have to write this. I have to write this for myself, I have to write this for those who wants to know how I am feeling, I have to write this for those who can't believe what they are experiencing and they are not sure is it normal or they are simply going out of their mind.
I want to tell them, yes, there will be pain, but He will take it away. He has taken my pain away. I no longer feel it. That part of my emotion is numbed. He has given me mercy.
Yes, there will be sorrow. I still have the sorrow. I do not know how long it will last. But I believe He will heal my sorrow too. I believe out of my sorrow, out of this broken heart, He will resurrect something beautiful out of it. I don't know what it is yet. I am still waiting. I can only hang on tight to Him at this time and wait.
Yes, there will be emptiness. There is this big big hole in my heart gaping at me. All the time. I can feel it. But I believe He will, and only He can fill that hole up.
Right now, I can only pray, and wait for Him.
With sorrow.
With emptiness.
With tears.
But not without hope.
Not without hope, my love. Not without hope.
As long as I am with Him, I know I have hope.
Hope that is beyond life and death. and with that hope I wait on.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
A Road of Brokenness, and more.
I am trudging down this really hard path, a path I suddenly found myself on, alone, and I have no where else to go except keep trudging it. I do not know where it is leading to, I do not know how I will get there and I do now know what I will find there. For if there is brokenness, it already found me. It found me the moment I was set on this strange path. Can I be more broken?
How could it be, Lord? How could it be that I walked into the doctor's office with a smile on my face, and left with nothing but brokenness and pain? How could it be that one moment we were waiting excitedly to see this new life in me, all giddy with hope; and the next moment we were being told this new life had died, and there was only eerie silence, and the ultrasound technician's sympathetic look on me.
This is what I am afraid of, she had said, no heartbeat. I can't find any heartbeat on this baby.
Her words came without any preparation, I was still focusing hard on the screen, trying to get a good view of this little life in me; her words came as fuzzy as the image of the baby on the screen. I turned to her, puzzled, and asked,"What?"
The baby has no heartbeat. She looked at me sympathetically, I am sorry. So sorry, she said.
Oh how the tears came. At a surprising speed and force. Why the tears? I did not understand. Can this be pain? Can this be pain that I am tasting now?
The doctor was next. He came into the room where I sat and sobbed. He came in and lay a hand on my shoulder, I am very sorry, Chan. I am very sorry for your loss, Chan.
And all I wanted to do was to scream at him, are you talking to me? If you are trying to talk to me, please get my name right first!
He went on to explain how common this is, little precious babies' hearts stop beating. There was nothing you did that contributed to it, he assured. We have lost the baby, he said, then suggested to abort it right away and told me the options.
I chose to wait, a week. My head was heavy and clouded, my heart was hurting, I did not understand why this was happening to me, I did not come in for this, I need time to clear my head and do some thinking.
That is OK, he said. Before we left he said, we will get through this together, Chan, don't worry. I looked at him hard and long. Does this man know what he is talking about? Is he married? Does he have any children? I see no wedding band and no family pictures in his room. Does he have little ones who tug and pull his heart at every direction with everything they do? Just a smile and that twinkle in their eyes are enough to give you a lifetime's joyous memories? Does he lay in bed at night with sleep eludes him worrying about his children? Does he know? Does he really know? Because before he came into the room, where I sat and sobbed, I could hear him out in the corridor talking loudly to the others, this is the second one today! His tone light and casual, as if he was talking about nothing but the weather, and though when he came in he talked seriously and sympathetically, I wonder, does he really know? Or am I just a number, a statistic? One he talks casually about to his dinner companion. After all, maybe he has seen too many of me, too many mothers who lost their unborn children. And oh why they are so heartbroken, you know, it is only but an unborn child. I could almost hear him saying. Does he know? Does he really care?
Does he know this child had been loved? Does he know we had hope and dreams for this child? Does he know two little girls have been expecting this baby? Every time I threw up because of my morning sickness, they pushed me aside and eagerly checked the toilet to see the baby had came out. The older one, she told me, when the baby is out she wants to hold the baby in her arms, her face a mixture of excitement and also tenderness. Such tenderness. It had made my heart fluttered. I had started to sort through the baby clothes. We had talked about buying a new carseat. I had tried to imagine his or her tender and soft face. We had prayed for him or her. And my mother, my aging mother had said, she would be here for me, for this baby, this time. Though we have never said it, there is this regret standing stark between us. A regret that she had never got the chance to see my girls when they were first born. No chance to hold them and kiss them. No chance to care for them and feed them a bottle. No chance to care for me and cook for me. No chance to learn how to tell them apart from early days. No chance to know them when they grew from infancy to toddlers. No chance for them to call her grandma for the first time until they were about 1 1/2 year old. And I saw the regret on her face, I can hear it in her voice when we talk. She had made it firm and clear, no matter how long would the flight will be, no matter how hard it would be for her, no matter what, she would come. She would come for this baby. I was equally ecstatic. I had long to see it, my mother holding my child, flesh and blood of me, and part flesh and blood of her as well. A missing picture that stands out whenever I look back at my girls' birth and growth. And oh how that hurts.
And now the hope dies. And it hurts more than anything. I cannot bring myself to tell my mother, our hope had died, and break her heart, and break my own heart all over again. The world does not understand. I do not think anyone can understand unless they have traveled the path themselves. I do not think men can understand unless they had carried a child, a precious life in their wombs. I believe that when God put that life in me, He does more than putting a life in me. Something very profound happen to us women, when a life is given inside us, emotionally, physically and spiritually. I cannot even name the change, but oh how carrying lives in me and giving birth to them and caring for them has changed me. I love as I have never loved before, there is a part of tenderness in my heart that I had not known before, and I have since then see God in a very different light. I catch glimpses of Him every now and then throughout the pregnancy, the birth and raising the children.
Tell me, how can this not hurt then? How can I not grieve then? How can I not feel the pain then? No, I believe it is not my doctor who will get through this together with me. It will be my God carrying me, it will be my very supportive and loving husband, who is hurting as well alongside with me. It will be his family, who wept with me and held me tight and told me God is good and pray vigilantly for us. It will be my children, one who came to me out of the blue, even though I wasn't crying, she looked me in my eyes and said, Mommy, don't cry. Shiloh loves you. Another one who has not yet that emotionally developed and matured, yet she came when I held on to her sister and cried, she came and she looked at us with a confused look, just a fleeting moment, then her expression cleared up and she was back to her usual happy self that has no worries at all. She pretended to poke me with her plastic play fork that she had been playing with, while saying,"poke!" then she threw her head back and laughed. Her laughter like a cluster of bells ringing pleasantly, with no worries in the world, so innocent, so pure, and so full of light. That made her mother laughed in the midst of her tears, that brought such comfort to her mother's broken heart. Not the doctor, for sure. But all of these people. And those who reach out to me and share their own brokenness. Those who wrote to me even though they barely know me or we are strangers to each others. Those who are my sisters and brothers in Christ's blood who pray and mourn with me. Those whom are not believers yet they pray still, and one even went to a church, on behalf of my anguish and prayed to my God. My siblings who wrote to me and said, we will go through this together, we will always be at your side, no matter what happens. They do not know, just a short few sentences, but they gave such strength and comfort to me.
I will go through this, though this road is paved with sorrow and tears, yet I will go through this, hang on tight to Him and all of these people.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Small, but Mighty
I have always thought, even though S & K are two very young children, very small indeed, but everyday, they live fully.
Everyday, they live as two torches that burn with all their might, no reserving, no doubting, no worrying, no fear for tomorrow. They burn all they have, they live to the fullest. They live in the moment, they laugh and cry to their hearts' content. They offer love without hesitation, they enjoy everything fully, the joy in their eyes and faces are constant, and there is no holding back.
I watch them, and you know what, I want to live like that.
I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to be be burning. I want no holding back. I want no reservation, no worries and no fear. I want to love with no hesitation.
For why haven't I done so already? Has not Christ given me the second chance I need to really live? Has he not said do not worry about tomorrow? Should I not be burning my life for Him?
Funny how God had to give me twins to teach me something. Simple things that are too simple, I fail to see them. Such as I had been asking many many days, what should I be doing for the Lord when I am raising my children? What should I be doing? What can I do?
One day the answer came while I was preparing breakfast for the little ones, it was so simple I almost laughed, but at the same time I was disturbed that it took me that long to figure out the answer. It is very simple. This is a very busy season of my life, but it is also the perfect season for me to, learn His words. Is it not? I have never gone through any Bible foundation class ever since I became a believer, and I keep telling myself, I will study all the Lord's words one day. But when is that one day? Is now not the perfect time? Do I not have time to myself? If I do not know His word, do I really know Him? If I do not know Him, how can I tell the others about Him? How can I tell someone about how to build a house if I build my house on the sand? Most importantly, how can I teach my children about Him if I myself do not know anything about the Word? It is all too simple, yet it took me long time to see the answer. I am amazed at His patience with me.
I have learned many lessons through my little ones since I became a mother. I think I have matured more and quicker in motherhood compared to before.
One day I was praying before lunch, quite weary of the children's quarrels and misbehaving, I prayed on behalf of the children,"Dear Jesus, please help us to be loving and gentle to each others. Please help us to be nice, and NO SCREAMING." While I was praying I selfishly emphasized the last part as a reminder to the children who were listening. I was quite proud of myself using prayer time as teaching time as well, but the good feeling did not last long. As soon as I finished praying, conviction came swiftly and fiercely,"How about you? how about yourself? Are you being loving and gentle to your children? Are you being nice? Are you not screaming?" It hit me right on my head, I could feel my pulse quickened and cheek getting red. Is it not true? I had not been loving, I had not been gentle, and I certainly had been screaming too much at them. The Holy Spirit is sharper than a two-edge sword. I immediately started praying again,"Dear Jesus, please help me to be loving and gentle to my children, and help me to not be screaming!"
Small, but mighty, are the lessons God teach me through my children. And I am most grateful, for the things He has taught me since I became a mother. He is faithful, and he is very very patient and full of mercies. Through my children He pour out His sweet sweet grace, small dosage, but mighty. I believe He has many many lessons prepared for me, and I can only say, yes Lord, teach me and show me. Be patient with my stubbornness and slow understanding, but teach nonetheless. Teach me through these little ones. Teach me to live like them, teach me to burn like them, teach me to love like them. Teach me.
Everyday, they live as two torches that burn with all their might, no reserving, no doubting, no worrying, no fear for tomorrow. They burn all they have, they live to the fullest. They live in the moment, they laugh and cry to their hearts' content. They offer love without hesitation, they enjoy everything fully, the joy in their eyes and faces are constant, and there is no holding back.
I watch them, and you know what, I want to live like that.
I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to be be burning. I want no holding back. I want no reservation, no worries and no fear. I want to love with no hesitation.
For why haven't I done so already? Has not Christ given me the second chance I need to really live? Has he not said do not worry about tomorrow? Should I not be burning my life for Him?
Funny how God had to give me twins to teach me something. Simple things that are too simple, I fail to see them. Such as I had been asking many many days, what should I be doing for the Lord when I am raising my children? What should I be doing? What can I do?
One day the answer came while I was preparing breakfast for the little ones, it was so simple I almost laughed, but at the same time I was disturbed that it took me that long to figure out the answer. It is very simple. This is a very busy season of my life, but it is also the perfect season for me to, learn His words. Is it not? I have never gone through any Bible foundation class ever since I became a believer, and I keep telling myself, I will study all the Lord's words one day. But when is that one day? Is now not the perfect time? Do I not have time to myself? If I do not know His word, do I really know Him? If I do not know Him, how can I tell the others about Him? How can I tell someone about how to build a house if I build my house on the sand? Most importantly, how can I teach my children about Him if I myself do not know anything about the Word? It is all too simple, yet it took me long time to see the answer. I am amazed at His patience with me.
I have learned many lessons through my little ones since I became a mother. I think I have matured more and quicker in motherhood compared to before.
One day I was praying before lunch, quite weary of the children's quarrels and misbehaving, I prayed on behalf of the children,"Dear Jesus, please help us to be loving and gentle to each others. Please help us to be nice, and NO SCREAMING." While I was praying I selfishly emphasized the last part as a reminder to the children who were listening. I was quite proud of myself using prayer time as teaching time as well, but the good feeling did not last long. As soon as I finished praying, conviction came swiftly and fiercely,"How about you? how about yourself? Are you being loving and gentle to your children? Are you being nice? Are you not screaming?" It hit me right on my head, I could feel my pulse quickened and cheek getting red. Is it not true? I had not been loving, I had not been gentle, and I certainly had been screaming too much at them. The Holy Spirit is sharper than a two-edge sword. I immediately started praying again,"Dear Jesus, please help me to be loving and gentle to my children, and help me to not be screaming!"
Small, but mighty, are the lessons God teach me through my children. And I am most grateful, for the things He has taught me since I became a mother. He is faithful, and he is very very patient and full of mercies. Through my children He pour out His sweet sweet grace, small dosage, but mighty. I believe He has many many lessons prepared for me, and I can only say, yes Lord, teach me and show me. Be patient with my stubbornness and slow understanding, but teach nonetheless. Teach me through these little ones. Teach me to live like them, teach me to burn like them, teach me to love like them. Teach me.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Grieving For the Griever
What do you say to someone who has lost their loved one? One lost so suddenly, so tragically? One who had to endure so much suffering and pain before his departing from this world?
What can you say? Words will not come.
What do I say to the one who has been left behind? With so much sorrow, so much regrets, so much anger, so many questions?
One who is blaming himself for not being able to grant his dying father's last wish?
"But I have so much dreams, dreams involving him, I work really hard, but what do I get? Is this what I got from working so hard?"
I have no words. No words for the one who does not share my hope. One who does not see, cannot see what I see. I cannot give him false hope. I cannot simply say,"he is at a better place now."
I can only grief with him. I can only said,"We are praying for you."
I see him being absolutely lonely in this mass of grievance that is tossing him back and forth, but I cannot reach out to him. It is not within my power. I grief that he does not know the mighty Comforter, I grief that it is broken, everything is broken and he does not see why.
I can only pray. I pray that Jesus will reveal Himself to him at this time, I pray that He will embrace him close. I pray that over time his heart will be open a little bit more, and we can talk, and he will open it wider to let the Lord go in, to put the soothing balm over his wounds.
I can only tread the water gently, very gently. Never pushing, but letting him know, we are here. We are here, and He is here.
I pray that he will know that one day.
Death comes quick, my friends. What regrets we will have if it claims us or one of our love ones tomorrow?
Leave no regret. Love to the greatest extend.
I have fear for my family who does not know and have the hope. It is my greatest fear. It is one that steals my peace. But tonight I shall cast it on Him, tonight I shall sleep. My fear He shall carry it for me, just as He has done it for so many nights faithfully, letting me know He is faithful, and just.
Tonight He dwells in the deepest part of my heart, and I shall be comforted.
What can you say? Words will not come.
What do I say to the one who has been left behind? With so much sorrow, so much regrets, so much anger, so many questions?
One who is blaming himself for not being able to grant his dying father's last wish?
"But I have so much dreams, dreams involving him, I work really hard, but what do I get? Is this what I got from working so hard?"
I have no words. No words for the one who does not share my hope. One who does not see, cannot see what I see. I cannot give him false hope. I cannot simply say,"he is at a better place now."
I can only grief with him. I can only said,"We are praying for you."
I see him being absolutely lonely in this mass of grievance that is tossing him back and forth, but I cannot reach out to him. It is not within my power. I grief that he does not know the mighty Comforter, I grief that it is broken, everything is broken and he does not see why.
I can only pray. I pray that Jesus will reveal Himself to him at this time, I pray that He will embrace him close. I pray that over time his heart will be open a little bit more, and we can talk, and he will open it wider to let the Lord go in, to put the soothing balm over his wounds.
I can only tread the water gently, very gently. Never pushing, but letting him know, we are here. We are here, and He is here.
I pray that he will know that one day.
Death comes quick, my friends. What regrets we will have if it claims us or one of our love ones tomorrow?
Leave no regret. Love to the greatest extend.
I have fear for my family who does not know and have the hope. It is my greatest fear. It is one that steals my peace. But tonight I shall cast it on Him, tonight I shall sleep. My fear He shall carry it for me, just as He has done it for so many nights faithfully, letting me know He is faithful, and just.
Tonight He dwells in the deepest part of my heart, and I shall be comforted.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Summer in the South
Today we had ants invasion in the girls’ room. The girls were both really excited but also concerned, Shiloh lay down on the floor to watch them while Kayla screamed,”ma yi! ma yi! (ants)” crazily beside me. I exercised my lightening-fast fingers muscles right away by squishing them, with Shiloh guiding me by pointing her finger to every one of the ant she could see while yelling,”haiyou! haiyou! (there is still more)”. True excitement for our mundane morning schedule, but not one I have wished or would wish for. The other day I killed a fly, a roach, a spider and caught a giant cricket(that gave such a fright to poor Kayla, because she sat right next to it and it jumped!) all within an hour, INSIDE the house. Welcome to the summer in the South, where all the creeping creatures outdoor do their summer heat escape, in YOUR house.
You would think “What’s the big deal, you grow up in Malaysia, eh?” True, true, We do have ants inside the house, flies galore when it’s the season(when I said, season, I actually mean seasons, you will always have flies, only low season or peak season), we have cockroaches of course, and they do fly, one time one flew into my older brother’s mouth when he was sleeping, he coughed and spat and screamed so much it made us laughed so badly; but karma soon made its way back to me when one day I tried to play my recorder, I sucked in a deep breath, and in with the air was this tiny baby cockroach…I coughed and spat and screamed so much that my siblings laughed so badly at me. I also washed my mouth out million times and always checked before I played my recorder then. We also have geckos in the house, they are good tiny lizards that crawl on the ceilings that eat insects, but they also poo everywhere and that always annoy my mother. We got really excited when my mother tried to hit it with a cane but it didn’t kill the gecko but only got its tail, the tail would fall off, still wiggling on the floor with the gecko alive but gone. It’s an amazement when you saw the same gecko again next time with a short but new tail. Sometimes the geckos lay eggs among the clothes in the dresser, we would bring them and bury them in the hot sand. If the time was ripe you got baby geckos crawled out from the eggs. We also have millipedes and centipedes, and occasionally mice.
So what’s the big deal about all these crawling creatures inside my house here in US?
The big deal is, my friends, in Malaysia, everything is opened. The doors are opened, the windows are opened, so to have crawling things inside my house is expected. Because they can get in and out of the house easily. But here in US, everything is closed. My doors and windows are closed most of the time, if I so leave my door opened ajar, just a few millimeters, I would have my husband and my in-laws screaming at me,”Close that door before the bugs get in!!!” And I always obey. But what good it does when you obey but you still have troops and troops of crawling creatures decide to invade your house from some unseen cracks and literally creep up on you when it’s least expected? The suspend is further heighten by the fact that there is poisonous spiders in South Carolina. It helps greatly when you cannot sleep at night and your thought start to stray off to the poisonous spiders that might be lurking in your children's bedroom, or worse, dangling over their cribs while they slumber off in their sweet, innocent dreamland.
Last year within the same day I had a standoff with a green, weird type of gecko (OK, any kind of gecko I can’t identify is weird, and the only type I can identify if of course those good gecko back in Malaysia) and also had to thwart an entire troop of ants’ invasion. I came upon the bright green gecko while I was heading to my bedroom, and there it was, on its all four in front of my bedroom door, with its back to the back door out to the backyard. I stopped in my track, it sensed my presence and raised its head and looked at me with its beady eyes. Usually lizards do not alarm me, outdoor; but this one was in my house. I also was still breastfeeding, that means I still have lots of crazy motherly hormones coursing inside me. Maybe it felt my unfriendliness, it started to look around for a way out. What is worse than to have a lizard in your house? A frantic lizard. It decided to make a mad dash to my bedroom! And what’s worse than to have a frantic lizard? You guessed it, to have a frantic lizard in your bedroom! I quickly opened the bedroom door and it froze, I used something to hit the floor near it, it realized it was a bad choice to go that way and quickly ran out of the room. I jumped over it and opened the back door and used the same sound tactic to scare it, it quickly wiggled itself out. Relief swarmed over me after I slammed the door shut. Earlier that day, I had to eliminate a whole colony of the ants who had decide to claim ownership to the girls’ dresser. Yes, right among the girls fluffy, soft clothing (that their mother slaved to wash and dry and fold) they made themselves comfortable. I had to kill them one by one with my fingers, because I could not bear to use any chemicals in the girls’ room, which resulted in more than few bites on my hands. And while their mama risking her life battling with the whole colony of the ants, the girls decided they should not waste their time waiting around for me, they launched their stealth mode and went to party-with the cat food. By the time my mother instinct told me they were up to something, they were already splashing in the water puddles from the water bowl, and Shiloh was munching the cat food happily. The younger one was quick to tears once I discovered them and reprimanded them, but the older one…proceeded to munch more cat food.
When the night dawned and the husband came home, I boasted my heroic rescues to him. His respond was mild,”Oh! THAT lizard. Yeah, I have seen him.”, which prompted the wife to asked,”You have seen HIM??!! In the house?” ”Yeah, I have seen him in the house…” “WHEN???!” ”I don’t know, a few days ago…?” and by this time, he had his monstrous fire-breathing, eyes blazing with green glow wife on him screaming,”YOU HAVE SEEN HIM FEW DAYS AGO AND DID NOT GET HIM OUT???! YOU LET THE LIZARD STAYED IN MY HOUSE FOR FEW DAYS???!” To this he finally realized he gave the wrong answer and replied,”Oh, maybe not few days, maybe it was yesterday that I saw him…” The wife was very tempted to let her husband stay in the backyard with the same lizard that night.
This year, the girls have voluntarily signed up for the scouting job and are on board of our swat team. They scour every corner of the house looking for the creatures. When found one they flew to their mommy and screamed on top of their lungs for their discoveries. When their special language is not understood, they make such noise until their mother drops everything she is doing to go investigate. They yell and yelp and jump and pant and whine and cry while their mother does the job of killing or evicting. It is good to have little helpers, at least one of them is courageous and sometime tries to take the killing into her own hand; but they have to work on their identify skill, especially the younger one. Because for now, every black speck on the floor is an ant to her (which she jumps and screams), and everything she can find with her eagle eyes is suspicious.
So, welcome to the summer in the South. Down here we have all kind of creeping creatures, not only in your backyard but also in your house. When the husband is home, he comes to the call of rescue; but when he is not around, I stand and do the job of protecting my family by battling and evicting those illegal immigrants in my house. I do not mind doing the job (with some disgusted exclamation along doing it, of course), but does any of you, my friends, who has a one-time solution? Or, I guess I can resolve to to a lesser solution –recipes of natural insecticide I can use safely around children, anyone?
You would think “What’s the big deal, you grow up in Malaysia, eh?” True, true, We do have ants inside the house, flies galore when it’s the season(when I said, season, I actually mean seasons, you will always have flies, only low season or peak season), we have cockroaches of course, and they do fly, one time one flew into my older brother’s mouth when he was sleeping, he coughed and spat and screamed so much it made us laughed so badly; but karma soon made its way back to me when one day I tried to play my recorder, I sucked in a deep breath, and in with the air was this tiny baby cockroach…I coughed and spat and screamed so much that my siblings laughed so badly at me. I also washed my mouth out million times and always checked before I played my recorder then. We also have geckos in the house, they are good tiny lizards that crawl on the ceilings that eat insects, but they also poo everywhere and that always annoy my mother. We got really excited when my mother tried to hit it with a cane but it didn’t kill the gecko but only got its tail, the tail would fall off, still wiggling on the floor with the gecko alive but gone. It’s an amazement when you saw the same gecko again next time with a short but new tail. Sometimes the geckos lay eggs among the clothes in the dresser, we would bring them and bury them in the hot sand. If the time was ripe you got baby geckos crawled out from the eggs. We also have millipedes and centipedes, and occasionally mice.
So what’s the big deal about all these crawling creatures inside my house here in US?
The big deal is, my friends, in Malaysia, everything is opened. The doors are opened, the windows are opened, so to have crawling things inside my house is expected. Because they can get in and out of the house easily. But here in US, everything is closed. My doors and windows are closed most of the time, if I so leave my door opened ajar, just a few millimeters, I would have my husband and my in-laws screaming at me,”Close that door before the bugs get in!!!” And I always obey. But what good it does when you obey but you still have troops and troops of crawling creatures decide to invade your house from some unseen cracks and literally creep up on you when it’s least expected? The suspend is further heighten by the fact that there is poisonous spiders in South Carolina. It helps greatly when you cannot sleep at night and your thought start to stray off to the poisonous spiders that might be lurking in your children's bedroom, or worse, dangling over their cribs while they slumber off in their sweet, innocent dreamland.
Last year within the same day I had a standoff with a green, weird type of gecko (OK, any kind of gecko I can’t identify is weird, and the only type I can identify if of course those good gecko back in Malaysia) and also had to thwart an entire troop of ants’ invasion. I came upon the bright green gecko while I was heading to my bedroom, and there it was, on its all four in front of my bedroom door, with its back to the back door out to the backyard. I stopped in my track, it sensed my presence and raised its head and looked at me with its beady eyes. Usually lizards do not alarm me, outdoor; but this one was in my house. I also was still breastfeeding, that means I still have lots of crazy motherly hormones coursing inside me. Maybe it felt my unfriendliness, it started to look around for a way out. What is worse than to have a lizard in your house? A frantic lizard. It decided to make a mad dash to my bedroom! And what’s worse than to have a frantic lizard? You guessed it, to have a frantic lizard in your bedroom! I quickly opened the bedroom door and it froze, I used something to hit the floor near it, it realized it was a bad choice to go that way and quickly ran out of the room. I jumped over it and opened the back door and used the same sound tactic to scare it, it quickly wiggled itself out. Relief swarmed over me after I slammed the door shut. Earlier that day, I had to eliminate a whole colony of the ants who had decide to claim ownership to the girls’ dresser. Yes, right among the girls fluffy, soft clothing (that their mother slaved to wash and dry and fold) they made themselves comfortable. I had to kill them one by one with my fingers, because I could not bear to use any chemicals in the girls’ room, which resulted in more than few bites on my hands. And while their mama risking her life battling with the whole colony of the ants, the girls decided they should not waste their time waiting around for me, they launched their stealth mode and went to party-with the cat food. By the time my mother instinct told me they were up to something, they were already splashing in the water puddles from the water bowl, and Shiloh was munching the cat food happily. The younger one was quick to tears once I discovered them and reprimanded them, but the older one…proceeded to munch more cat food.
When the night dawned and the husband came home, I boasted my heroic rescues to him. His respond was mild,”Oh! THAT lizard. Yeah, I have seen him.”, which prompted the wife to asked,”You have seen HIM??!! In the house?” ”Yeah, I have seen him in the house…” “WHEN???!” ”I don’t know, a few days ago…?” and by this time, he had his monstrous fire-breathing, eyes blazing with green glow wife on him screaming,”YOU HAVE SEEN HIM FEW DAYS AGO AND DID NOT GET HIM OUT???! YOU LET THE LIZARD STAYED IN MY HOUSE FOR FEW DAYS???!” To this he finally realized he gave the wrong answer and replied,”Oh, maybe not few days, maybe it was yesterday that I saw him…” The wife was very tempted to let her husband stay in the backyard with the same lizard that night.
This year, the girls have voluntarily signed up for the scouting job and are on board of our swat team. They scour every corner of the house looking for the creatures. When found one they flew to their mommy and screamed on top of their lungs for their discoveries. When their special language is not understood, they make such noise until their mother drops everything she is doing to go investigate. They yell and yelp and jump and pant and whine and cry while their mother does the job of killing or evicting. It is good to have little helpers, at least one of them is courageous and sometime tries to take the killing into her own hand; but they have to work on their identify skill, especially the younger one. Because for now, every black speck on the floor is an ant to her (which she jumps and screams), and everything she can find with her eagle eyes is suspicious.
So, welcome to the summer in the South. Down here we have all kind of creeping creatures, not only in your backyard but also in your house. When the husband is home, he comes to the call of rescue; but when he is not around, I stand and do the job of protecting my family by battling and evicting those illegal immigrants in my house. I do not mind doing the job (with some disgusted exclamation along doing it, of course), but does any of you, my friends, who has a one-time solution? Or, I guess I can resolve to to a lesser solution –recipes of natural insecticide I can use safely around children, anyone?
Monday, July 11, 2011
Oh motherhood.
(I usually write about the girls on our private blog, but unfortunately it has been down for a while now and my poor, torn, busy husband has not have the time to fix it. I have so much things I want to write down, about the girls that is, that I'm afraid if I don't they will be gone as fast as the girls' infancy. And so I'm writing them here.)
The girls are growing and learning at such amazing speed, they truly grow like weeds! Shiloh was wearing a dress yesterday, the same one she was wearing about a month ago, but it already seemed to be getting too short for her! Two months ago before we left to Malaysia they could barely looked out of the windows without standing on something or their tippy toes, but after a month in Malaysia, I was very surprise to find out they can look out of the windows when we were back with no problem and no help now! Weight wise, I think they have lost some weight during the stay in Malaysia, but are slowly gaining it back. They were at the 0 percentile at the 18 months old check-up, and the doctor wanted me to bring them back in June to have their weights checked again,"just to be safe" he said. But that "just to be safe" will cost me 50 dollar, you know. I canceled the appointment after we got back from Malaysia, not because I want to save that 50 dollar, but because I know they have lost weight and the appointment would do them no good. I do not appreciate probing and more tests on my babies just because they are small. They are healthy and running around like crazy.
Both girls love to be with each others now and enjoy playing together. BUT, they also hate it when the other one takes her toys away, or bugging her, or sharing her mommy. Shiloh is more independent. She will ask about Kayla when she doesn't see her, but she is completely happy playing by herself. Kayla on the other hand, adores Shiloh and needs her more. She asks about Shiloh when she doesn't see her, and follows Shiloh everywhere and does whatever Shiloh does. Shiloh can make Kayla laughs like no one else. She really doesn't have to try hard, one weird noise or simple action can send Kayla into such giggle again and again. They love to pretend to feed each other with a spoon, and one will cry "more! more!" and the other one will feed more. Or the feeder get so zealous and will not stop, not even after the eater cries" ALL DONE! ALL DONE!". Usually the "zealous" feeder is Kayla and Shiloh will be so ticked that she tries to walk away but Kayla chases her down with the feeding spoon shouting "umm! umm!" , which is their language for eating. Sometime they both get spoons and take turns "feeding" each others, and laughing the same time. They like to do this while sitting on the kitchen floor (while mama cooking) with their backs to the door that goes out to the garage. Sometime they pretend they are drinking soup by making slurping noise. This always make the other one giggles. They also like to color, but only for a very short time. Kayla enjoys walking around holding on to something, I don't mind when it's a cup or toy, but when it's a crayon, I have problem with that. I can always foresee her coloring on my wall or somewhere else she shouldn't be. Today when I helped them to sit at their table and color, Shiloh opened the drawer and said,"uh oh!" I looked and discovered someone had colored in the drawer! But that someone quickly confessed by pointing to herself and said,"An An!" (pronounced as "un un", which is what we call Shiloh in her Chinese nickname and she has been adopted calling herself that."). Luckily it's a plastic table that I got from a yard sale and it can be easily washed off. That's another thing about the girls, they like to be snitches lately. If Kayla is doing something she is not suppose to be doing, you can be sure Shiloh is quick to tell her that by shouting,"Meimei (younger sister)!! No!! No!! mmkeyi (you can't)!! pigu (bottom--meaning she will get spanked)!!" Sometime she even tries to "discipline" Kayla, to daddy and mommy's dismay. We're working on letting her understand she is not allowed to boss her sister, or reprimand her as we do, nor hitting her sister. Kayla is the smarter one. When she catches Shiloh doing something inappropriate, she runs to mommy and said,"Jiejie (older sister)!! *jabber jabber jabber in gibberish* No!!". The first few times she did this I was completely confused of what she was trying to tell me. She was determined and would not give up though, until I decided to go with her to investigate, and realized what she tried to tell me. Now when she flies to mommy talking about her sister in gibberish, I know right away Shiloh is misbehaving. Interesting. But more interesting when I found out Shiloh tattles about no one but also herself! When we're reading a book and come to a torn page, or the previous drawer incident, she quickly let me know she was the one who did it by pointing to her nose, saying her own name and nodding her head! It makes me laugh (not in front of her), but I sure hope she will remain to be this honest as she grows up.
Shiloh is half potty trained. It actually doesn't require much effort with her. Before we left to Malaysia she was having a series of bad diaper rash. So we let her go without diapers whenever she wasn't sleeping. She quickly discovered about her own urine, first disgusted by it, then proceeded to play in it. I tried to let her sit on the potty when she first got up from her nap, and she went in there few times. She loves to be praised and to learn new thing, so I wasn't surprise when she wanted to sit on the potty even when she wasn't going. The other thing is, she loves, loves, loves reading. She realized that if she sat on the potty, she could have mama read to her heart's contend. Sometimes we sat and read 7 books straight! But I was more surprise but she actually realized the urge to go and let me know! We had a month's break of potty training in Malaysia, because the crazy schedule just wouldn't allow it. When we came back, she was very reluctant in telling us whether she wanted to go or not, so I just popped her on the potty every hour or so, and she would go when she needed to. Soon she is telling her when she needs to go again, and mommy is very proud that she is now diaper free when she is awake. She still doesn't like to go poo-poo on the potty and only go when I put them down for their afternoon in her diaper. We shall work on that later. Kayla will sit on the potty but refuse to go. I think she is fear to pee or poo in the potty. She doesn't like the sight on them, period. She always says,"Yay!" to Shiloh when Shiloh goes pee in the potty, but a lot of time, she will look at it and says,"Ewww!" too. One time, Shiloh accidentally went poo in the potty (because we both didn't realized she needed to poo), after she realized it, she stopped doing it no matter how I encouraged her. She got up and looked at it, then looked at me (who was cheering and saying yay like crazy), then tentatively said,"yay...." with a disgusted face. Kayla of course was so all grossed out by her sister's "misdoing" and she just keep saying "Ewwww!! Ewww!! Ewww!!" no matter how I tried to let her know it is not "eww!". I told her not to look if it disgust her so much, but of course she couldn't resist, and thus she couldn't stop saying eww to her very confused sister...aah, you never know potty training can be so fun with twins, did you?
Welcome to my world.
There will be more to come if you enjoy the madness and the comic of it. Now let me first get back to my screaming children, and we'll see I have more strength left to write afterward.
The girls are growing and learning at such amazing speed, they truly grow like weeds! Shiloh was wearing a dress yesterday, the same one she was wearing about a month ago, but it already seemed to be getting too short for her! Two months ago before we left to Malaysia they could barely looked out of the windows without standing on something or their tippy toes, but after a month in Malaysia, I was very surprise to find out they can look out of the windows when we were back with no problem and no help now! Weight wise, I think they have lost some weight during the stay in Malaysia, but are slowly gaining it back. They were at the 0 percentile at the 18 months old check-up, and the doctor wanted me to bring them back in June to have their weights checked again,"just to be safe" he said. But that "just to be safe" will cost me 50 dollar, you know. I canceled the appointment after we got back from Malaysia, not because I want to save that 50 dollar, but because I know they have lost weight and the appointment would do them no good. I do not appreciate probing and more tests on my babies just because they are small. They are healthy and running around like crazy.
Both girls love to be with each others now and enjoy playing together. BUT, they also hate it when the other one takes her toys away, or bugging her, or sharing her mommy. Shiloh is more independent. She will ask about Kayla when she doesn't see her, but she is completely happy playing by herself. Kayla on the other hand, adores Shiloh and needs her more. She asks about Shiloh when she doesn't see her, and follows Shiloh everywhere and does whatever Shiloh does. Shiloh can make Kayla laughs like no one else. She really doesn't have to try hard, one weird noise or simple action can send Kayla into such giggle again and again. They love to pretend to feed each other with a spoon, and one will cry "more! more!" and the other one will feed more. Or the feeder get so zealous and will not stop, not even after the eater cries" ALL DONE! ALL DONE!". Usually the "zealous" feeder is Kayla and Shiloh will be so ticked that she tries to walk away but Kayla chases her down with the feeding spoon shouting "umm! umm!" , which is their language for eating. Sometime they both get spoons and take turns "feeding" each others, and laughing the same time. They like to do this while sitting on the kitchen floor (while mama cooking) with their backs to the door that goes out to the garage. Sometime they pretend they are drinking soup by making slurping noise. This always make the other one giggles. They also like to color, but only for a very short time. Kayla enjoys walking around holding on to something, I don't mind when it's a cup or toy, but when it's a crayon, I have problem with that. I can always foresee her coloring on my wall or somewhere else she shouldn't be. Today when I helped them to sit at their table and color, Shiloh opened the drawer and said,"uh oh!" I looked and discovered someone had colored in the drawer! But that someone quickly confessed by pointing to herself and said,"An An!" (pronounced as "un un", which is what we call Shiloh in her Chinese nickname and she has been adopted calling herself that."). Luckily it's a plastic table that I got from a yard sale and it can be easily washed off. That's another thing about the girls, they like to be snitches lately. If Kayla is doing something she is not suppose to be doing, you can be sure Shiloh is quick to tell her that by shouting,"Meimei (younger sister)!! No!! No!! mmkeyi (you can't)!! pigu (bottom--meaning she will get spanked)!!" Sometime she even tries to "discipline" Kayla, to daddy and mommy's dismay. We're working on letting her understand she is not allowed to boss her sister, or reprimand her as we do, nor hitting her sister. Kayla is the smarter one. When she catches Shiloh doing something inappropriate, she runs to mommy and said,"Jiejie (older sister)!! *jabber jabber jabber in gibberish* No!!". The first few times she did this I was completely confused of what she was trying to tell me. She was determined and would not give up though, until I decided to go with her to investigate, and realized what she tried to tell me. Now when she flies to mommy talking about her sister in gibberish, I know right away Shiloh is misbehaving. Interesting. But more interesting when I found out Shiloh tattles about no one but also herself! When we're reading a book and come to a torn page, or the previous drawer incident, she quickly let me know she was the one who did it by pointing to her nose, saying her own name and nodding her head! It makes me laugh (not in front of her), but I sure hope she will remain to be this honest as she grows up.
Shiloh is half potty trained. It actually doesn't require much effort with her. Before we left to Malaysia she was having a series of bad diaper rash. So we let her go without diapers whenever she wasn't sleeping. She quickly discovered about her own urine, first disgusted by it, then proceeded to play in it. I tried to let her sit on the potty when she first got up from her nap, and she went in there few times. She loves to be praised and to learn new thing, so I wasn't surprise when she wanted to sit on the potty even when she wasn't going. The other thing is, she loves, loves, loves reading. She realized that if she sat on the potty, she could have mama read to her heart's contend. Sometimes we sat and read 7 books straight! But I was more surprise but she actually realized the urge to go and let me know! We had a month's break of potty training in Malaysia, because the crazy schedule just wouldn't allow it. When we came back, she was very reluctant in telling us whether she wanted to go or not, so I just popped her on the potty every hour or so, and she would go when she needed to. Soon she is telling her when she needs to go again, and mommy is very proud that she is now diaper free when she is awake. She still doesn't like to go poo-poo on the potty and only go when I put them down for their afternoon in her diaper. We shall work on that later. Kayla will sit on the potty but refuse to go. I think she is fear to pee or poo in the potty. She doesn't like the sight on them, period. She always says,"Yay!" to Shiloh when Shiloh goes pee in the potty, but a lot of time, she will look at it and says,"Ewww!" too. One time, Shiloh accidentally went poo in the potty (because we both didn't realized she needed to poo), after she realized it, she stopped doing it no matter how I encouraged her. She got up and looked at it, then looked at me (who was cheering and saying yay like crazy), then tentatively said,"yay...." with a disgusted face. Kayla of course was so all grossed out by her sister's "misdoing" and she just keep saying "Ewwww!! Ewww!! Ewww!!" no matter how I tried to let her know it is not "eww!". I told her not to look if it disgust her so much, but of course she couldn't resist, and thus she couldn't stop saying eww to her very confused sister...aah, you never know potty training can be so fun with twins, did you?
Welcome to my world.
There will be more to come if you enjoy the madness and the comic of it. Now let me first get back to my screaming children, and we'll see I have more strength left to write afterward.
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