Motherhood: First Trimester Woes

It was a Wednesday evening I saw that second line, ever so faint but distinctly there. I had just arrived in the US for a month-long trip. I quietly shuffled into my room, remaining oddly calm as I dialed my husband’s number to FaceTime him. He was in the middle of driving so I asked him to pull over. We prayed, cried, and celebrated in utter disbelief.

But the celebration and calm remained only for a bit. Almost like clockwork, the nausea and fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks at 6 weeks (exactly when it started with my pregnancy with J), leaving me feeling debilitated and depressed. Bedridden for weeks on end in isolation and left to my own thoughts, I often spiraled down a deep rabbit hole.

Then the guilt and shame came. The “I should be happy and feel grateful” when in actuality, I felt like crap, resentment even growing in the crevices of my heart. The moment I found out there was life growing in me, I suddenly felt the weight of responsibility and a cloud of anxiety hovered above me. I recalled how a few days before the positive pregnancy test, I had had a few glasses of wine. And then I was reminded of the stories I’ve held in my heart, stories of pregnancy loss, infertility, my own story of infertility though it felt like a distant past still coloring my experience. “Is it even okay to celebrate when so many are grieving, yearning, hoping…?”

This unexpected news honestly put a damper on my month-long trip to the US. It didn’t go as I had planned. My to-do, to-eat, to-meet, to-buy lists all were left at a standstill as I was in “survival mode” just trying to make it to the next day, no, the next moment. I stared up at the ceiling and wondered when it would all pass.

I’ve often been asked, “What does morning sickness feel like?” For me, it’s a combination of what motion sickness, indigestion, and food poisoning feel like.

We hear about “pregnancy glow” but that wasn’t my reality as my body was floundering in hormones and my skin was erupting with breakouts.

We’re told what we should (or should not) eat. But “Am I eating right? Am I consuming enough nutrients?” honestly went out the window for me as I could barely stomach the thought of eating most anything. Every smell threw me into the throes of nausea, leaving me catching my breath between heaving into the toilet bowl. And when I could stomach eating something, I’ll be the first to confess I ate a lot of “should nots”: instant ramen, sushi, deli sandwiches.

We’re told what we ought to do, what we should (or should not) eat or drink, how we should feel… In Korea, they even tell you what you should think about (good things, nice things, pretty things). And once you announce you’re expecting, everyone feels like they can give you their two cents. Hey, I’m not dismissing the importance of nurturing baby in utero and mommy’s all-encompassing influence on said baby. But we quickly lose sight of the nuances. Every woman’s experience is different, deeply personal. Pregnancy and labor and birth surely point us to “the miracle of life” but it’s not always “sunshine and rainbows”.

With some, these “woes” end with the commencement of the second trimester, but that’s not the case for everyone. I have friends who hated pregnancy, I have friends who loved it. There’s no “one” experience.

“There’s no right or wrong way to be pregnant, to become a mother, to make a family. There is only one way-your way, which will inevitably be filled with tears, mistakes, doubt, but also joy, relief, triumph, and love.”

— "Like a Mother: A Feminist Journey Through the Science and Culture of Pregnancy" by Angela Garbes

“Our stories - and the diversity of our perspectives - are invaluable.”

We’re all just doing the best we can. So let’s all show each other grace, let’s show ourselves grace, let’s listen to each other’s stories.

J is three!

Last month, we celebrated J’s third birthday! Time, would you slow down? I can’t seem to catch up. It was relatively low-key, no fanfare, no birthday party. I sent cupcakes to his daycare so he got to celebrate with his friends (his teacher told me he made sure to ask everyone which flavor they wanted). Then later that evening, we had dinner with J’s great-grandma (my grandmother) and he got a few gifts. The next day, Grandma (my mom) had a delicious banana-cream cake so J could blow out candles.

I’ve been saying “I love this stage” at nearly every stage but for real, this stage is so much fun.

J,
You’re three! And I’m an emotional mess as I try to string together the words to describe what you mean to me, how special you are, how my heart seems to just swell more and more with love for you each day.

You are my pride, my joy, the apple of my eye.

It was three years ago that you made your grand entrance into this world and ever since, my world has quite literally been flipped, turned upside down and not a day has gone by that I have not been overwhelmed with joy that I get to be your mama. Lately, I can’t seem to stop gushing about you to your daddy. Every day, you say and do things that amaze me, that crack me up, that touch my heart.

Your imagination never ceases to astound me. Lately, your thing is making up songs, lyrics and melodies but it doesn’t stop there. Suddenly, a blanket becomes a magic carpet, a deck becomes a boat we’re sailing on and we catch fish and clams and squid that we cook and devour. I’m thankful I get to tag along for the adventures.

You ask questions, lots of them. You love your National Geographic books, delving into the Animal Kingdom, finding out every tidbit of information you can about various different species. You are particularly curious of what animals eat. And I get to learn alongside you.

You observe. You take things in. You notice the little things that I am so quick to steamroll past. As you are in awe and wonder of the world and all the things in it, I am in awe of you. How you were once growing in my womb, fully dependent on me for everything. And now, you are fully your own self, expressive, vibrant, emotional, compassionate.

You stall bedtime with a myriad of tactics. But mainly, you say, “But I like being with you, mommy” and I melt. Into a big, gooey puddle. Truth be told, I swing between wanting to be consistent with your bedtime routine and letting myself be a puddle when I realize this too will pass. Sooner or later, you won’t want to sleep next to me, nestled in my arms.

A few weeks ago, with coronavirus wreaking havoc, you stayed home with me from daycare and I cherished every moment with you. On a casual trip to the playground, you biked around and I leisurely walked behind you. I watched you stop to look at a map of the park (just like your daddy does) and then when you saw a leaf on the ground, you noted it was pretty and picked it up for me. You teach me to slow down and notice.

Three sounds so little and so big at the same time. And I’m not quite sure how a three-year-old can be so beyond your years but you are. You embrace me with more grace and teach me humility.

You’ve taken the news that you’re going to be a big brother like a boss. With better poise than your mama. And this transition has just shone a spotlight on your tender heart - during the peak of my morning sickness, you prayed for mommy, you ran ahead of me to open the bathroom door only to then tap my back as I hugged the toilet bowl and threw up. You played doctor, checking my vitals and feeding me medicine to feel better. You even went to daycare and declared to all your teachers that mommy has a baby growing in her belly. Now, you voluntarily come to kiss mommy’s belly and talk to baby.

Lately, you’ve been telling your teacher that “Jesus is in my heart” and that He casts all your fears (monsters) away. And today, you hopped off the bus and told me, “Mommy, I like my teacher” and then squeezed my cheeks saying, “Mommy, why are you so cute?”

I would be lying if I were to say it has been smooth sailing all the time. You are fully a “threenager”, making sure to let us know when you’re unhappy. When things don’t go your way, you don’t hesitate to give us a piece of your mind. And at moments like these, I realize how much of a sponge you are, absorbing every phrase and word we use: “Mommy, do you want to get in trouble?” The other night, when we didn’t give you cake at bedtime, you told us you were going to go away, far far away, to Uncle Timmy, Aunt Ashley, Laila and Emmy. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

J,

I hope you know that you are so loved, so blessed and you bring so much joy to those around you. You were prayed for long before you were conceived, by many all over the world.

Thank you for coming into this world as my baby and letting me become a mama.

I love you.

A Valentine's Day Announcement

I’m winding down my Valentine’s Day after a quiet and relaxing day to myself which consisted of a lot of drama-watching and a bit of reading and an eventful evening with my boys - dinner out, the arcade and a quick stop to the mart. Somewhere in between, my husband messaged me telling me he paid off ALL of my student loans (from my bachelor’s and two masters degrees) and I couldn’t have thought of a better gift.

But what I’m most excited to share is…

Our little family is growing and we are so thankful. It’s been a journey getting here but tonight, my heart is oozing with love for this family of mine.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

From ours to yours

Motherhood: Messiness

Recently, I was “talking” to a friend (in quotes because it wasn’t talking in the conventional face-to-face sense but through an app called Marco Polo, of which I am very grateful for helping me stay in touch with friends across the world) about all the “gray” in motherhood. The conversation was sparked by a post I had seen titled “To the mom who loves motherhood—but misses her freedom, too” and something about it resonated so deeply with me.

As moms, we’re always in tension.
We love our children and cherish our time with them but simultaneously miss our freedom, our bodies, our time.
We feel fully the weight of the honor to bring these little beings earthside, to have them utterly dependent on us, to raise them, to have them trust us, but this weight can also be crushing at times. It’s not always rainbows and sunshine.
We’re thankful but we’re tested.
We’re overjoyed but also overwhelmed.

Motherhood isn’t black and white. It’s not “this” or “that”. It’s messy. It’s complicated.

Over the years, I’ve been learning to embrace the complexities, the gray. But we all need a reminder sometimes.

So this message is for all you mamas (myself, included).
Just because we miss and yearn for the bygone days doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate the current “here and now”. If anything, we’re fully feeling it all, fully present in the good, the bad, and the ugly.
It’s kind of like this: In the movie “Inside Out”, Riley’s core memories are filed away as one of the following: joy, sadness, anger, disgust, fear. But later (spoiler alert), the feelings realize in “Headquarters” that Riley can benefit from emotional polarities and that she can experience multiple feelings at the same time.

In life, we all flit and flutter between emotions but especially so in motherhood. When we allow ourselves to feel our emotions, all of them, however mixed and messy they are, it doesn’t make us “weaker” but actually makes us stronger and fuller.

Recent Reads V. 2

The Gospel Comes With a House Key, by Rosaria Butterfield

A dear friend recommended this book to me. And though it took me longer than expected to get through it (I had to borrow it a few times on my Overdrive account), I was glad I did. The author talks about the life-giving, life-changing power of “radically ordinary hospitality”, sharing her own life-altering experience of receiving radically ordinary hospitality and how it led her to see this as a calling and to adopt this as a lifestyle. I was personally convicted by how she and her family welcomed the broken, the lost into their home.

The Hate U Give, by Angie Thomas

After a nonfiction streak, I picked up this book truthfully not expecting much. But I could not put it down. A story about Starr Carter, a sixteen-year-old moving between two drastically different worlds, it tackles the challenging and complex issues of racism, prejudice, police brutality, “Black Lives Matter” that are so relevant in today’s society. As I read this book, I kept thinking about the term “cross-cultural code switching” that I learned during grad school. Code switching, the alternating the use of language depending on the social context and situation, was something that upon learning about, immediately resonated with me. Growing up as a Korean-American, I moved between different worlds: my affluent, predominantly white neighborhood and school and my Korean family and church. The author’s portrayal of Starr’s struggle with code switching and moving between her worlds is one that is complex and yet so real.

All You Can Ever Know, by Nicole Chung

In this memoir, the author speaks about growing up Korean in her white family. With candor, she shares about feeling different in her adoptive family, the prejudice and challenges she uniquely faced as an adoptee. She begins to search for her birth family when she becomes pregnant, initially wanting to find out more information on her medical history. But along this journey, she shares with rawness the complexities of adoption- grief, loss, the longing for roots.