Avalanche from small actions

The other day I was thinking about how many of the most significant things in my life were a result of small, even seemingly random, decisions and actions.  For example, when I was in freshman and all of 14 years of age, I decided to go to lunch with a group of sophomores which I met thru an algebra class.  That decision sparked  friendships that wound up connecting a group of friends that lasts until this very day.  Two of my very best friends (groomsmen at my wedding) came from this small and fortuitous encounter.

In 1997, having no idea what I wanted to do with my future, I enrolled into a community college and when prompted with the question at the administration office: "What major would you like to declare? You can always change it later...."  Without much thought, I chose Physics (mostly due to the energetic teacher I had in high school who taught Physics). That ended up jumpstarting the curriculum that I would study in college, eventually obtaining degrees in Physics thru the years.

In 2003, while hanging out with a friend in her apartment in Los Angeles, I curiously and randomly chose to contact a girl whom I shared my first kiss with nearly 13 years before.  We started a relationship shortly afterwards, culminating into a marriage.  We've shared some beautiful moments and more than our share of trials and tribulations.  And to this day, our marriage is the single proudest thing I have in my life.

In 2012, amidst the fog and depression of infertility and childlessness, I (half-heartedly) made the decision to look into alternatives to becoming parents.  I visited several adoption sites that day and started a discussion with my wife that would turn our world upside down, trying our patience and diligence to levels we could not have imagined (especially coming off the fresh emotions of infertility, surgery, etc).  But that small decision, and all the seemingly small junctures that shaped my life have brought me to this: a wife that can make the rest of the world disappear and a loving son that teaches me lessons about myself everyday.

Earlier this year in October and November 2014, my wife and I made two separate trips to Korea which included social worker visits, meetings with our son Taeyeong, family court appointments, embassy and visa approvals, and, a long trip home back with him to the USA.

Taeyeongee is a very kind hearted child, that is very playful and active.  He is definitely dealing with the trauma and frustration of having a new home, new sounds, new smells, new parents, new country.....new life.  He is still very fragile and raw, but he is transitioning well and we are so proud and happy to have him in our life.  As new parents to a 2.5 yr old toddler, we find ourselves continuously struggling to make the best possible environment for him to thrive in, but we are learning things about parenting and our own shortcomings.  And while the social worker visits, doctor appointments, legal and government paperwork is no where near done, we are finally a family. Learning to live together thru a series of adjustments and compromises.

Not the way we planned but we have become a family. While significantly more difficult and painful than we would have ever imagined, this is nonetheless the journey we've traveled finding the permanency and loyalty of family.

The process of dealing with infertility, depression, and adoption has been an experience that has transformed my wife and I, and our marriage.  We still have moments where we grieve the children we will never have biologically, the time lost to depression and valuable years lost with important moments in our son's life (first steps, first words, smiles, giggles, his birth into the world, etc).  I think back at how it had extinguished the optimistic outlook on life and carefreeness my wife and I used to feel.  But during this past year, my wife and I have started letting go of things that held us captive to depression and sadness. And, in doing so, we were able to find the strength to really reset and adjust the goals and dreams we had when we first got married.  And with the arrival of our son, we have even started to forgive ourselves (more specifically I have).....freeing us to notice and recognize moments of genuine joy while re-discovering a bit of the bright-eyed and hopeful past of our former selves.

Falling in love again and again

There was a time in my life when I actually considered that I never wanted to get married.  I was in my early 20's, living in Los Angeles, and having fun with my friends splitting my free time between the beach and going out several times a week to the clubs and bars in Hollywood and downtown LA. Even as I look back now, I can remember how content I was with my life and how certain I was exactly where I wanted to be and doing exactly what I wanted to do.   Whether it was looking at the Los Angeles skyline and the snarl of lights lining the 405 and 101 freeways as I drove towards Sunset Blvd, or seeing the first sparkles off the pacific as I approached Redondo Beach..... I felt like I was on a free roll in life, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

In late 2003, I fortuitously met Jenne.....again.  The night I met Jennie again, we met at a park near her parents home, and I can still remember how the sky looked and how nervous I was to meet the girl I kissed nearly 13 years prior.   Jennie and I had known each other since middle school, when we were 11 years old and in middle school.  It was then that we shared our first kiss, the first time either of us ever really kissed someone.  And the feeling that overcame me as I looked at her.....seeing her as a grown, beautiful and successful woman....it was one of the best feelings I've ever felt.  That night  my friends and I planned on going out to San Francisco, to club NV (which I'm not quite sure exists anymore).  Even as I was meeting her, my friends were en route to my place.  When I got home, I half-sarcastically, half-heartedly said to my friends "I just met THE girl for me, what's the point of going out...." Of course I went out anyways and had a blast.

But something really did change.  Slowly, I found myself gravitating towards Jennie, and found her making short calls and email exchanges to me as well.  Fast forward to early 2004: we were infatuated with each other and it was probably almost sickening to most people.  But the world really seemed to vanish even while we were mostly together in the middle of the busy streets we lived above in San Francisco.

I fell in love with her after just spending a few weeks with her.  What's more......I keep falling in love with her over and over again.  While having a chat with her father, he once told me how Jennie had followed her and hiked up a large hill even while her mom and sister decided to stop because they were tired.  As he told me this, I saw my wife interacting and playing around with her sister and mom....I vividly imagined her following her dad, tired legs and all.

When I saw her scared out of her mind on a 80 ft tall tree in Puerto Vallarta and still find the courage to follow thru on zip lining with me thru the rain forests in Mexico, I felt gratitude, but I also felt my love for my wife evolve.  Or the countless times she plays April Fool's jokes on me and immensely enjoys the moment, laughing with her entire body as she revels in her triumphant prank.

And of course, the grace, patience, and diligence she has approached our entire relationship with, has been both inspiring and amazing for me to witness. Even now, as we prepare to leave for Korea on our first trip to meet our son Taeyeong, she calmly plays a game on our bed as she prepares for our long journey riddled with court dates and social worker meetings......but also a meeting with our son that we have waited 2.5 years for.  And we can hardly believe it.  And, again, I can feel my love for my wife evolving further as we prepare ourselves more and more for parenthood.

People often ask, as they usually do to married couples, "when did you know she was going to be the one you married? How did you know you guys were meant to be?"  And my reply is simply "I don't know if we're meant to be, but I do know that life is better when I spend it with her and that I become a better person when I think about what I have to do to make our life together better."  But the truth is, there was something, inside, even in that first meeting with her that I did feel - as much as I tried to bury it (since she was already in a relationship at the time). I knew she was someone that I naturally felt comfortable with. Someone that when I was simply near, the world had the volume turned down on and anything she said brought a smile to my face. Even in that first encounter, when we met at the park again as adults, I could feel the seed with which started a foundation of what my love for her has turned into.  One that continues to grow and evolve in ways that I'm not even fully aware of at times. And I'm excited and thankful for the way my love for her will evolve as she becomes the mother of our son, and we become a family together.  The best part about finding someone that you love selflessly, as I have so fortuitously found in my wife, is that you continuously fall in love with them....over and over again.  

Somedays my eyes say too much....

Like most people, I have a job that I go to, a company that I work for and bills that I have to pay with the money that I earn.  I'm sure just about everyone knows how hard it can be to make it through the entire work week, especially when the workload stacks up.  But I think the hardest weeks are when we have a burden....a heavy heart that lingers on during the week (or months) making each minute at work that much harder to power thru, as we struggle to separate our emotional untangling from our professional lives.  The waves of depression are as unpredictable as the waves of the ocean: you never know how hard they'll hit you nor what you will have to do to get return to your normal self.

I regularly read articles to learn more about coping with infertility, policy changes in the Korean government pertaining to international adoption, and many other related topics.  The past few weeks I read several articles containing some harsh statements, which opened up some old topics which I had tried to look past.  Let me first start by saying the "comments" portion of blogs and youtube videos are many times interesting (if not polarizing) and remain one of the main reasons I remain on a site after completing an  article/video.  And I do have to admit, they are damn hilarious.  But upon reading an article about people dealing with infertility and the depression that comes with it, there were some statements that rekindled questions about myself and our predicament.  Here are some of the comments:

"I dont understand why Korean babies should go to couples that can't have children, those parents are just desperate and will probably not raise the child right"

"Maybe infertile people were never meant to be parents in the first place."

"God does not want certain people to reproduce"

And this might be the all time best in explicitly targeting the infertile population:

"Could this be darwinism at work?"

Yes muthafucker, you are right.  And I don't mean this with even a hint of sarcasm: I was exactly chosen by nature, by God, and by evolution to NOT pass on my genes to the next generation.  I probably don't have many traits that mean shit anyways, but it definitely makes me feel like less of a normal, able person when the ability of taking part of procreation is snatched from me.  And when you find out that you are not just infertile but they don't know WHY you are infertile, well, that makes you feel even worse.  Especially after getting your genitals probed and pierced on many accounts to no avail.  

I guess this is just a time when depression is getting the better of me.  Its just shy of 3 years and counting since my wife and I tried to first get pregnant.  Its been over 26 months since we started our adoption process, and its been more than 3 months since submitting papers to the Korean courts with no contact, no response - with the uncertainty of relinquishment from the birth mother still open (since they can not get in contact with the birth mother).  And so,  as I often do (especially as of late), I find myself asking if quite possibly Jennie and I were not meant to be parents.  I guess I have to believe that while just about every couple we know are having kids, experiencing them grow, and witnessing the little miracles everyday - that they were chosen to have kids, rather than me being chosen not to.  I'm definitely not a man of strong faith, but I don't think God makes mistakes and certainly not with respect to having the wrong people having children.  I mean there's even a pretty famous verse telling people how much God wants people to have children (Genesis 1:28):

"And God blessed them: and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the heavens, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth."

And I do believe that God finds immense joy in children and families.  But maybe he also knows when to press the pause button on some.  It probably makes sense to do so on people like me.  I think about it and I don't really have traits that are too desirable.  I'm pretty lazy, not very tall, impatient as hell at times, can have a temper, and find myself to be more stubborn than I'd like.  What's worse, perhaps, are all the times I've failed to come through for people, the weakness I feel to do the right thing when its the tough thing to do, and the complacency I regularly practice when it comes to the important things in life such as spending time with and being their for friends, family, and even for small things like simply living in the moment.  I always tell myself that I know I will die some day..... so live a little bit more, find humor in everything, take risks.....but that's all a lie - I live with the wrong priorities and live like I have time to spare (which I don't).  I don't take once in a lifetime trips with my friends, or work on my childhood dreams....I don't spend time getting to know my parents better like I always thought I would.  I don't treat my wife with as much patience and care as I can, or even as much as I should to return the patience she has shown me.  I find excuses all the time, even for myself. I barely know what the inside of a church, a community center, or volunteer shelter looks like. And so whether its nature, or God, or evolution that is wise to my many faults, its hard for me to think "WHY did this happen to me....." I'm not so sure I've ever felt like that (which is strange because that is how the vast majority of infertile people feel).  Instead, I find myself ever more depressed knowing how short I do fall in life in so many ways, and that infertility simply exposes and manifests this for me.  I guess the only thing that makes this unbearable is that my wife has to go thru this infertility with me.  And we both have to miss out on what our friends who have become parents have already discovered: 

"God is happiest when His children are at play."

I agree.  I just wish I could feel more deserving of having children, and being a parent.

Innate curiosities....

I believe there is something deep in all of us that seeks to find connections with our history.  I remember when I attended a semiconductor conference in 2007 I had met a group of professionals that were seated with me during the lunch session.  There were easily 5-6 individuals I was having a conversation with and, surprisingly, I was enjoying this professional encounter.  I remember there was a Korean man there, probably 15 years or so older than I was who grew up in the same city that my father grew up in.  I remember how quickly I gravitated towards confiding in him and how connected I felt to share things about my father and my childhood.  Truth be told, I can't tell you exactly why, but there is a sense of connection and history with someone that shares the same cultural upbringing as you, even more so when they share something in common with a family member of yours.

Some years ago when Jennie and I started this journey of adoption we were required to take a trip to Scottsdale, AZ - where our international adoption agency is located.  In an earlier post, I told the story of how I could feel the connection to all the couples in the room as we walked into the adoption agency's building (each couple undoubtedly had their own struggles that had brought them to the decision to adopt).  One of the things they did during our sessions there was bring in 10 adult adoptees (all Korean born) that our adoption agency helped place into adoptive families.  What I may have not stressed enough was the incredibly consistent and innate yearning that all these young adult adoptees had in seeking out their culture, their blood relatives, and their heritage.  It was incredible because EVERY single adoptee was matched with a caucasian family and the adoptees themselves could hardly speak Korean at all, but they still felt this urge to discover their history, and chase after some answers regarding themselves.  After all, its not like their birth parents or blood relatives were there to fill in the blanks.

Like many of the parents I would be excited to take this endeavor of discovery with our adopted son. And though they did not mention it, I'm sure at some level, the adoptive parents are a little saddened by their child's desire to find their "real" parents.  I think it makes me dread even more the day (and it will happen some day) our son yells at us and says "I hate you, you're not even my real parents." Those words will cut very deeply into my heart (and my wife's as well).  I mean, I wouldn't even know how to respond?  They're just stating a fact.

I think we all root for people, especially children, to be reunited and connected with their birth families.  After all, they are not just the people that gave you life, but also the people that hold the answers to so many of the things we tend to be curious about.  I think just about everyone and most stories that highlight birth parents (as in various movies and shows) display the heroic efforts and appreciation children have for the birth parents - most of the time as a natural, instinctual response.  I also root for those children, even possibly my own adopted son, to find and be reunited their biological parents, especially if it means a happier, more fulfilled, and less empty life.  I've never been a parent, but I know what it means to be a child and I can only imagine the confusion and sadness that would run through my head if I would have found out that I was adopted.  Even still, I do find myself hoping, praying even, that my son will find some appreciation for my wife and I, and that even if one day he finds his birth mother, Jennie and I will always have a deep place in his heart.

Recently, I found a tiny bit of hope in an unlikely place.  A little more than 10 days ago the FIFA World Cup in Brazil began.  I've watched just about every game and one player in particular strikes me as brash, yet athletic and deadly: Mario Barwuah Balotelli.  He was born in Ghana to parents whom immigrated to Sicily.  His parent, struggling financially, were asked by the Italian authorities to place Mario in foster care and eventually those foster parents adopted Mario Balotelli.  His parents, still living very close to where he was living with his adoptive parents, became less and less a part of his life as he became indifferent towards them and their choice to give him up for adoption.  Later, as he became a solid futbol player for Italy, he dedicated his goals to his adoptive mother and continues to show great devotion and love towards his adoptive family and the country of Italy (the country in which he plays futbol professionally and internationally for).

I'm not sure which scenario I hope for more.  I would be lying if I said I didn't wish for his unconditional love or an appreciation for our family that would fill the void he feels which was left by the biological parents whom made the extremely difficult decision to place him in foster care.  I know Jennie and I will also have to put all our infertility and dreams of biological children aside as well.  I guess in the end, what I wish for most is that both Taeyeongee, Jennie and I are able to support each other in the very different emotional issues that we each struggle with and that we find resolve in the unexpected paths that have caused our lives to intersect.  I always picture the scenario  that it will be hard for our son, particularly when he gets a little older, to deal with as he looks in the mirror and is a little unsure of himself: facing the world is hard enough, but it must be a LOT harder when you are not sure where your face came from.  And while I don't have all the answers or won't always find the right things to say to him, I can assure him of at least one thing: Taeyeongee might not have our eyes, won't have our smile, but one thing he will always have is our hearts. Completely.

Loose Change

When I was younger, especially during my high school and junior college days, I would make frequent trips to San Francisco.   Most of the time, these trips were just random outings to get some late night food, roam around the streets of downtown, and just feel the ambience of the city.  Of course, these trips would regularly be after 10pm so the city was never too congested.  Still, to us, being young kids just starting to experience life and the freedom of doing things ourselves the city was brimming with activity from our standpoint.  We would drive across the Bay Bridge or surface in downtown via BART and randomly walk thru places like Union Square, North Beach, Chinatown, Justin Herman Plaza......we never did anything fancy, but we always we're so excited to be there.

One thing about going to San Francisco so late at night is that you tend to run into and see more evidence of the homeless.  You can see them rummaging through trash bins, setting up their card board "beds" in front of shops with awnings, and some already asleep.  On these trips to SF, I nearly always took a huge pocket full of change with the intent of passing out small amounts of change to the many homeless individuals I was sure to run into on any particular night.  Many times, I would go into a Burger King or Carl's Jr near the Powell Street BART Station and buy them a cheap burger.  I really did do it just because it made me feel better and it genuinely felt like the right thing to do.

On one particular night in downtown Oakland, I ran into a homeless guy outside of the small Chinese cafe we were eating at.  I was out of change but had a $5 bill in my pocket and decided to give it to him (remember I was all of 16 years old at this time and this was back in 1995, so $5 was a bit more of a sacrifice than it sounds like now).  I felt good as I went back into the cafe to finish my meal.  Later that night, however, as we made our way to Jack London Square to hang out, I ran into the exact same homeless guy who had taken the money I had given him and it turns out he used the money to buy a small bottle of liquor.  I think that was a turning point for me in handing out money to the homeless.

As I grew older countless other experiences wrongfully taught me to stray away from my kinder, gentler, and perhaps, more gracious versions of myself.  I'm sure I'm not the only one.  I've become more skeptical of most things people say. I find the virtue of patience extremely hard to find.  I constantly struggle with ugly qualities such as hypocrisy, greed, and envy.  Generosity is completely absent from my mind most hours of the day.  Anger and rage too often rear their tendencies over the smallest of life's events, such as my commute home to and from work.  I probably can count the number of truly selfless acts in a year on one hand.  Depression overtakes me too often and I find my mind has drifted largely to a pessimistic view on my future and life.  And so I ask myself this simple question: how is it in all the time that has passed, all the lessons I should have learned, and all the good people that surround me - have I still managed to be come half the man I was when I was a high schooler?

The funny thing is, I usually hear people talk about how childish and immature they were in high school, but I find myself remembering how much more compassionate, accepting, patient, and content I used to be.  Content, I can hardly remember what that feels like.  But I can remember the frequent feeling of being content and happy doing simple things like playing basketball until the sun set and looking up at the sky as I walked to my car and thinking "this is exactly where I want to be and what I want to be doing at this time......" Those moments are fleeting for me now.  Or how happy I would be to submerged in a group of friends all finding time to hang out and do nothing exciting but be around each other.  Even then, I remember how I would think to myself how good life felt at that moment, and I tried to hold onto it like a handful of sand as long as I could. But I could feel the sand slipping through my fingers, and by the time I started working and started to experience the corporate bullshit I could feel the hopefulness and cheery youth of my past vanish right before me.  Add on a wedding and marriage along with mortgage of a home and you have the cocktail for what many consider adulthood, or what I consider to be the exit of childhood.

I suppose it's not all bad though. I mean, I did learn a bit about being a little more financially savvy, holding myself accountable and responsible for supporting my family, and along the way experienced  the lessons of bankruptcy, heartbreaks, broken dreams, and addictions.  And though I've changed substantially from the person I once was, with eyes a bit less hopeful, a mind a bit more closed off and an attitude a bit more sarcastic and stubborn, I'm hoping that I can still right the ship for my outlook on life.  I'm not quite sure I would even recognize myself today if my high school self saw me.  What I do know is this: till this day, when I meet someone I judge that person's confidence based  on how easily they can make fun of themselves, their success on how many great stories they can tell (and how well they can tell them), their loyalty on the depth and age of the stories their friends tell about them (no matter if their heroic or sarcastic), and their amicability based on the topics they choose to discuss with you.  If, when they laugh, they laugh with their entire body and their smile makes me want to smile, then that's bonus points.  This is the first time I've written it down, but I can tell you that those are subconsciously some of the ways I choose my friends and how I gauge their worth to me. And that hasn't changed, and I hope it never does.

If nothing else, I hope I can pass what I think is one of the few good philosophies on life that I possess: surround yourself with the as many good friends as you can, find time in life to make memories that will turn into great stories, and never let being scared or the fear of embarrassment rob you of some of the best opportunities for blissful success or epic failure (which might cause hysterical laughter at your cos)t. Because there's a very simple scenario I play in my mind when I think about myself getting old and wrinkly: when I tell stories to my grandkids or random youngsters that have the patience to listen to an old man speak, it won't be stories of how big your house was, how fancy of a car you used to drive, or how much money you made......it'll be stories of bungee-jumping off 1000+ ft buildings in Vegas, scuba diving in the caribbean, getting beat up with a friend, farting in the middle of a huge lecture hall, crashing my parents car, or marrying the first girl I kissed that will really get their attention. And like giving out loose change to the homeless that needed money when I was young, having stories of risk, willingness, and zeal may fuel the need of the next generation to get some perspective on life.

My Father, The Amazing....

There are many shows that I've enjoyed watching over the past 3 decades (with HBO's "The Wire" being my absolute favorite of all time), but there are few shows that have made me laugh while allowing me to reflect on my own life as the 90's TV series "The Wonder Years."  I remember a particular scene from The Wonder Years where Kevin Arnold (Fred Savage) and his father are sitting in a cafe after attending his high school's state championship basketball game.  In this episode Kevin starts to idolize an older, star basketball player (Bobby Riddle) from his high school (who's locker is adjacent to his). During the numerous wins and highlights of the regular season, which eventually culminate in the team going to the state championships, the star basketball player was amicable and gregarious.  However, Kevin's high school ends up losing in the state championships, and Bobby who seemed confident, friendly, even magnanimous at times, showed the youth and frailty of his character.  Kevin waited to speak to the star basketball player but he could care less about speaking to Kevin, emphatically embarrassing him in front of the remaining crowd (including his Kevin's father).  The episode continues with Kevin and his father driving home, at which point his father decides to exit for some pie and coffee.

As they sit having coffee and pie, Kevin's father starts to discuss the game and the talent of the star player that had just embarrassed Kevin.  Immediately Kevin starts to change his view and appreciation of Bobby, discounting his dribbling, shooting ability, and overall skills. Its then that Kevin's father starts to chuckle and when Kevin asks "what's so funny?" His dad responds sternly and sensitively, in a tone straddled best by a parent: "Kevin, you're a hard man to please.....Let me tell you something.  It's not easy being a hero."  And in that instant, Kevin realizes that his father isn't referring to Bobby Riddle, but to himself. Perhaps alluding to many of the occasions where his father let him down, but even more the the pressure and sense of accountability a hero tends to feel from those that count on him.

When I think about my own dad, there were times he seemed superhuman to me as well.  I remember my brother and I standing on top of a hill that seemed to take us forever to climb up, and the ease and accuracy with which my father was able to kick a soccer ball up to us.  My brother and I would catch the ball and ask him to kick it again to us, over and over again.  Or the time my dad, my brother and I were leaving Disneyland and my dad chased after and caught the shuttle which was already halfway across the parking lot (it was the last shuttle heading to our hotel).  The way he used to laugh and play with us in the car, asking us to raise our hands in the air as we went down a large hill (much like a roller coaster).  How he used to wake me up late at night when he and my mom would get back home to place presents under the Christmas tree (and how happy I would be to share that moment with him).  How he'd always make the best root beer floats.  How he waited and looked out at the airplane trying to find me on the plane when I was heading back to LA for school (he didnt know I saw him standing and waiting as the plane finished loading passengers). How he fell from greatness when I realized he was human.  How disappointed and saddened his face looked when I was arrested for the 2nd time in a two week span at the age of 14.  I remember how he eased expectations and pressures on what I was going to do with my life, and realizing how hard it must have been for him to do just that: to give up a vision of success and greatness you have always dreamed of providing for your child. I hope and pray, that my own son, whom I've not even met yet, will find it in his heart to see my wife and I as worthwhile role models and that one day he also realizes we are just human.

I guess what I realized as I got a bit older was there is no moment that defines or creates a hero. Empirical and fleeting are the things that seem to hold up certain individuals in your life. And while a legend and great story can (and surely deserves) to be born from moments where we shine brighter than those around us in the most critical moments, those that REALLY come through, the ones that come by even when you push them away or let them down over and over, .....the ones that can look past all your shitty qualities and still sacrifice whatever they can for you......I suppose those are the real heroes.

What lies behind a promise

Like any other Wednesday night, I returned home from basketball around 10 pm and saw the light to our bedroom casting a shadow onto the stairwell.  As I usually do, I called my wife's name and I heard no response. And upon walking into the room, suddenly my wife jumps up from under the covers and yells "boooooo!" This scared the shit out of me, but it also put a big smile on my face.  Even now, thinking back to the image of my wife in her pajamas jumping out of our sheets with her hair all tangled brightens my mood. Let me explain.

For nearly two years now, the journey of infertility and adoption has consumed much of our life.  And while we've battled back from the depths of depression and hopelessness, very often we still succumb to the sad thoughts of our predicament: that we will never share the joy of being biological parents (additionally, we are at the mercy of an international process that places all the power with a few politicians and courts in Korea).  And while this obviously means we will never have children that look like us or share our DNA, it also means something more for my wife, and it manifests itself in a short question she asks me from time to time: "Babe, promise me that you'll never leave me, okay? You promise?"

I'm sure that just about EVERY guy (and many girls) have heard this question, even in (possibly more so) the early goings of a relationship.  Usually, it's just something they say in a joyful moment when they're happy to be with you and don't want that feeling or that moment to end. For my wife, this question is a bit more sincere and deep.  I wonder if she realizes just how profound of a question it is to me.  I certainly don't tell her all the thoughts and details that run through my mind, but if I did, here's how I'd summarize what her question says and means to me:

1. She's willing to sacrifice not having biological children and stay married with me

2. She's willing to endure the turmoil that comes with the process of international adoption

3. She can look past not becoming pregnant, giving birth, and holding a newborn in her arms

4. She can deal with no gifts, no congratulations, and little support from family

5. All that she wants to know is that I'll stay with her, because if we don't......if I leave her, she will no longer be physically capable of bearing children and and be without a someone she fell in love with. And that's something which scares her.

Think about it like this: my wife will never have people wanting to "feel" her stomach when her child is kicking.  She'll never be able to bond with a newborn. She'll never be able to take 1000's of photos and share them with people. For example, my brother and his wife took more pictures of their kids at my brother's 33rd birthday lunch (which lasted all of 90 mins) than all the photos I have accumulated of our future son in the past two years combined. She will miss out on the small miracles of parenthood that include (but are not limited to) our son's first steps, first words, first birthday, first christmas, second christmas.......and maybe even his 2nd birthday.  To frame things even more, what it really means is this: she will be raising a child that was given life by two other people whom abandoned their own child. Two years ago, I had no real idea of what adoption was.  Truth be told, I never cared either - it was someone else's problem.  And now, its mine - and because of me, it's my wife's as well.  This is a fate I think I could accept, the cost for penance or absolution for the shortcomings and sins of my life. Its hard to swallow that my wife pays this price with me.

I never lose sight of her sacrifice, and even now, it keeps me up a few days a week with the burden I feel as I picture an enormous part of her life taken away because of me.  My wife has already done so much for me, but I hope she thinks about all the things I'm really am saying when I respond to her question and say: "l'll never leave you. I love you baby and you are the only girl for me. In this life that God's chosen for me, I'd rather raise an adopted child with you than have biological children with someone else." 

The details that shine through

When you think about the things that have implanted themselves as vivid memories in our minds, they can be divided up into two main categories: 1. The memories that we cherish and embrace and 2. The memories which pry their way into the depths of our minds, perhaps even crawling into our  subconscious. The distinction is not that one is pleasant and the other traumatic. Rather, I think the difference is they tend to affect us and change us in different ways.

Even as I sit here on an airplane, my mind is easily flooded with joyous memories like the first time I kissed my wife at our middle school near Ms. Freedman's middle school math class or the night out when I first kissed my wife (again as an adult) in the Marina District in San Francisco. Or the time I saw my brother take first place in the 100-yd dash amongst a large crowd of kids and parents.  The hazy morning when I went to check on the new dog which my parents brought home the night before. And  the laughter that ensued when we realized she had chewed through her drawstring tether (she was only 3-4 weeks old).  And, of course, my mind drifts towards the calm, warm, pristine waters from vacations past, and the monuments, architecture and culture of some of the world's great cities. These are the types of memories we indulge in, the ones that keep us striving for more, that add to the reasons we live beyond the usual daily grind of paychecks and errands. 

In contrast, the sharp memories that pierce through even the most distracted minds are the ones that we remember because of the magnitude of the event, and the way it changed us when we experienced those moments.  

Such as the time I saw my sister in law first hold and take care of her child.  My view of her, the appreciation I have for her love as a mother, has forever been changed. 

Or the time I stared, mesmerized and proud as I saw my brother helping to bottle feed his infant twins with milk bottles clipped to a visor and his pinkie finger acting as a "nipple."  My baby brother, the one that looked up to me, was now teaching me how to be a caring and responsible father, and I realized further what a great man my brother had grown up to be.  

The way my friend (who has always been as strong as an ox) suddenly needed to be hand fed pain pills when he became very sick, having difficulty breathing on his own. The mortality of us all seemed even more present as I watched my friend suffering from fractured vertebrae and ribs. While thoughts of all the things he had left to accomplish and the things he had left to see paralyzed me as I felt helpless to assuage his pain. 

Or the specific details that I can account the day I found out about my azoospermia.  The way my wife teared up and dropped her purse and lab coat as we met at the top of the staircase in our home. The way she cried and embraced me even before I said anything, as if she already knew what I was about to say. The minutes that seemed like hours that we clung to each other as we felt the world had abandoned us in the harshest way possible.

Sometimes we don't have the choice of what memories, images, and sounds embed themselves into our minds and, hence, our lives.  Nor do we know how they will affect us. But the simple fact remains: they change us, for better or worse.  And whether we like it or not, they run their course through our brains affecting the decisions we make, impacting our view of life, changing us from optimists to pessimists.  Many times, they give us the reason to become cynics. But we all have the ability to turn our experiences, the traumas we endured, and the tragedies that persist into a proving ground that showcases our perseverance and determination.  I don't think my wife and I are there yet, but we're making small and consistent strides. Taking notice, not of the large hill that lies ahead of us in the months before we go to Seoul to pick up our son Tae Yeong, but rather focusing on the enormous, atrocious, and rigorous mountain of events we've learned to live with, move past, and heal from. Because like a wound that causes pain and heals, there'll always be a reminder of what caused us to walk the path of life we live. However, once you've allowed yourself time to heal, if you can find it in yourself to seek out a bit of diligence and zeal, to your amazement you may find that some of these harsh memories have turned to scars: reminding us of past lessons and experiences that have transformed the way we appear and carry ourselves, while leaving us more resilient to the never ending hurdles of life.