Cheers to You, Daddy!

No matter how many apps and books and words of wisdom I followed, pregnancy is more than I ever imagined.  Baby and I have countless intimate-- almost secret-- moments, feeling her every movement.  While I try to involve Julian by having him watch my belly move or try to catch her kicking, it's not quite the full experience.  That's not to say he hasn't been along for the ride or contributing a great amount to this pregnancy season. 

Julian has made his share of sacrifices-- altering his cooking to ensure proper nutrition for us (like scrapping his usual chicken dishes when the food aversions kicked in), offering massages (a pregnancy essential and my personal fave), being sensitive to my exhaustion and my inability to participate in social events, stepping up with housework, reading, praying and singing with the baby (oh yes, LOTS of singing),  etc.  And for someone who has always struggled with body image, my growing belly provoked silly questions always directed to my gracious husband who would gently remind me, "of course you're gaining weight-- you're pregnant. You're growing a child," shaking me out of my insecurities. 

He really has proven to be an amazing father already and this season has further revealed how blessed I am to have such a loving husband and now partner in parenthood.  Funny how that works-- because of this little baby, I love my husband even more.  And that'll be so crucial for Baby Girl to feel secure and loved too.  

Many have warned us that you will never be completely "ready" for parenthood.  Our prayer has been that our growing nest will be full of the love of Jesus and for each other, so that when our daughter joins the party,  she will enter a home overflowing with that love.  And with a leader and partner like my dear husband (and the sheer grace of God!), I think we're on the right track.  So cheers to you Ian, Baby Girl and I love you so much!

- M

Sharing Our Joy.

 

 

We were so touched to see our loved ones cheer and shed tears of joy as they joined in our excitement.  Thank you everyone for your kindness thus far and we continue to ask for prayers for our growing family and all that is soon to come our way.  One thing is certain, that whether here or there, our little Leong will be showered with lots of love.

-M

That's My Girl.

I see my daughter several of times a day. The preteen on Prince Street, clutching her dad’s hand over her shoulder; the gurgling pink and white bundle, bouncing on her mother’s knee; the silly schoolgirls shoving each other and shouting at their mom. I say to myself “That’s my girl.” I wonder about our days together as father and daughter—what we’ll bond over, what she’ll resent me for, how I’ll pore and fuss over her to no end. My affections for her grow stronger each day. I say her name. I whisper to her at night. I tell myself I’m out of my depth. People ask if I’m excited about becoming a dad. I’m not going to be a dad, I am a dad.

-J

The Sweetest Sights and Sounds.

February 26, 2014

Today, we would see our child for the first time.  We sat back as the sonographer did her thing.  The numbers, lines and black-and-white blurs made no sense to us until, indeed, we saw little baby--- or what looked like a little peanut at the time.  "And there's the baby.  Congratulations!"  I think Julian and I simultaneously let out an awe-struck "wooow."  As if the sight of this precious baby wasn't exciting enough, "...and here's the heartbeat.  Sounds good."  Those sweet little thumps confirmed that the image onscreen was more than just a blob of cells.  That was our baby, at a mere 7.5 weeks and just about the size of a raspberry, so full of life.  As that tiny heart beat, two first-time parents' hearts filled with joy.  We are so incredibly excited to see you, Baby.  

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

-M

"One for You, One for Me..."

When Melody met me I was standing in a dusty corner of the Times Square station parked next to a staircase that led down to the 7 train, where I had been waiting for over half an hour. The day so far I had spent on a disappointing workout, a grueling shift, braving the tail end of Wednesday’s shiver, and idle time to lament it all while catching plenty of passing looks. “Having a bad day?” she asked me on the train. I nodded, a little embarrassed. I told her about my day, and she asked me if I wanted something to make it better. She told me that morning she was going to stop by Uniqlo. I even saw the bag, I figured maybe she got me a tie or suspenders. I had no clue. She reached inside and instead pulled out a small hazelnut box made of recycled paper, with a sun flare sticker smoothed over—the color of dark chocolate—sealing it shut. “Sprinkles” it read. I mustered some gratitude, though I wasn’t in the mood for cupcakes. “That’s nice, only I don’t have a big appetite right now.” She just kept smiling, oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm. “Read what it says,” she gently instructed. On the box she had written in pen “one for YOU, one for ME…” finished with a heart. I didn’t get it. Wasn’t that just being cute? Why is she so excited? She reached into the Uniqlo bag a second time, this time she pulled out a tiny paper bag—the same color as the box, with the same sun flare sticker. It wasn’t big enough to have another regular cupcake in it, it was much smaller. On it, in pen, was written “…and one for baby.” A dozen different Julians clamored over each other in my head. What? When! Hey, this is a special moment! Be excited! Remember this! But why now? Why here on the 7 train? Can everyone see me? Cupcakes? I nearly jumped up and woke up all the sleeping riders. She giggled. (01/26/2014)

 

-J

She's kind of spicy.

Yesterday, a friend told me “You know, I thought Melody was just this sweet happy girl with a big smile, but she’s kind of spicy!” “Yes,” I chuckled, “she’s got sass.” She is also courteous, responsible with money, a lover a wisdom, and is fiercely committed to children most people don’t want to deal with. I see her in most of her facets, and I can say she is a joy to know. Happy Birthday to my Melody! My wife, my confidant, and the delight of my eyes.


-J

Melody's First Audition.

So my manager calls me in the morning to let me know I have a callback for a commercial in a few hours. I was just cast in a play and today we begin rehearsal, but thankfully the audition is close enough for me to drop by on my lunch break. It’s not until I’m all signed in and waiting to audition, casually observing the room like I do, when my commercial agent calls and says “Listen, they’ve made a last minute change. They want to see real couples only. Can you come back with your wife before 6?” “Sure,” I tell her, anything but that. I can only imagine Melody’s reaction to seeing my text:

“Don’t go to gym. They want you to audition with me! Meet me 14^th st btwn 9/10th av by 5:50”

I bolt back to rehearsal with just enough time to both inhale a salad and ask my director how he’d feel about me leaving 30 minutes early on our first day of rehearsal. He shakes his head and mumbles some words which I can’t make out into an answer. As if I weren’t uncomfortable enough with kale lodged in my chest…

Outside the station, I eventually spot Melody in the post-work rush. It doesn’t take more than a moment to recognize that look on her face. “You’re making me super anxious,” she says. I try to say something reassuring but everything I say is so fraught with my own nerves it does no good. I’m nervous for her. I’m nervous for myself; I don’t know what to expect either. “We don’t have to do this,” I tell her. “Oh,” she replies with that look,” we don’t?” I shrug and we keep walking.

The audition is all interview. The guy asks us how we’d met, which is all we need to go off about all the plot twists in our story, nearly busting a move in the room to illustrate how bangin’ the wedding was. Some ladies in the back laugh along staring at us on a screen. By the time we leave the building Melody’s entire demeanor has changed. “You’ve just got to let it go,” she tells me. “You do your work, and you let it go.” “Is that how it is, huh? Look at you.” “I know,” she says, “my first audition’s for a national commercial—a callback, a callback—and I don’t even have an agent. Try not to be jealous.”