Learning Helplessness

Theoretically, I knew, even before God allowed us to have our own children, that parenting was a shaping experience. I knew that it forced people to grow up and change. I knew it was supposed to mold and improve one’s character.

What I never expected was how.

I always thought that parenting made us different people because we had more responsibilities and more people to care for. I thought the hardest things would be mustering enough strength and wisdom to do the right thing each and every time.

Little did I expect that the one thing about parenting that compels me to grow spiritually day after day after day is how much it makes me feel helpless.

For the record, I hate feeling helpless. I have always been the type of person to be over-prepared for everything in life. I think, rethink, and overthink. I plan, replan, and plan some more. As a student, I hated pop quizzes but thrived on scheduled exams. As a wife, teacher, and mother, I operate on checklists and spreadsheets of every single kind.

When I encounter problems, my instinct is to research. My go-to coping mechanism is to arm myself with knowledge and to form a plan of attack, to somehow feel more in control by having more information in my arsenal. I’ve done this for illnesses, for tests, for projects, for events.

But if I were to be honest with myself, it really is just an fancy way of leaning on my own understanding.

Parenting forces me to reckon with the times when all that preparation falls short.

With parenting, I’ve shed tears over milk ducts that refuse to make any more milk despite putting myself through every supplement and suggested practice there was. With parenting, I’ve watched helplessly as the thermometer keeps showing me 38, 39, and maybe even 40 degrees as I wipe down and comfort and feed medicine to a crying sick child. With parenting, I hear advice from people and websites and professionals that may well contradict each other and realize I am destined to fail by one standard or another no matter what choices I make.

With parenting, I come face to face with my children’s character flaws and my own, powerless to overcome them without the Holy Spirit. With parenting, all the information and knowledge I can amass fall short in addressing the needs of the human heart.

And in the midst of that helplessness, I learn to turn to God. In the midst of that helplessness, I am forced to reckon with how little I truly can control and achieve.

I don’t like feeling helpless. But hard as it is, being forced to learn my own helplessness has been the best way to make me learn dependence on God.

When it comes to this area of life, I’m not exactly a good student. I keep forgetting my lessons and keep having to be reminded of them again and again and again.

But I hope that every time I come face to face with my own limitations, I will learn just a little bit better. I will remember better. I will recognize the truth more readily. And even if I might never prefer the feeling of feeling helpless, may I come to embrace how it directs me towards a truer, fuller dependence upon the Lord.

Thirty Mommy Minutes

In a home that’s packed from dawn to dusk (and beyond!) with the joyful (and occasionally not so joyful) sights and sounds of twin toddlers, I have somehow grown accustomed in the last few months to multitasking and tuning out any noises that I don’t believe represent urgent need. As long as I don’t hear fighting sounds or accident sounds or too much suspicious silence, I know for the most part that the twins are fine. They’re growing more independent, by God’s grace, and can mostly feed, entertain, and take care of themselves without constant, concentrated adult supervision.

And with their gradual increase in independence comes my gradual increase in flexibility. One of us parents taking an hour off for a meeting or focused work isn’t as impossible as it used to be. Meals can still be exhausting, but at least we only need to feed them half of the time. They manage well enough for the other half. There is a sense of nostalgia mixed in with a sense of pride as we watch the children become better at doing their own things. But with the increase in freedom for us parents, I also find myself getting trapped into worsening distraction.

Now that I can use my phone or my laptop undisturbed for slightly longer amounts of time, now that the twins only need half an eye on them most of the time, I unfortunately often end up giving them only that. Without necessity binding me to watching them 100%, I sometimes end up only ever giving them my half-attention at best.

It’s a horrible habit, and it’s something I am trying to learn to overcome.

I am a hopeless multitasker. The only way I know how to juggle work and family and ministry and household management is by constantly doing half a dozen things at a time. It’s not unusual for me to have a work meeting while cooking while coordinating a delivery. I often absent-mindedly watch the kids while drafting memos or grading or blogging or jotting down one of the 101 things I am currently dealing with.

I thank God for technology to help
me to do all these things at the same time.

But I also know my children deserve better.

How can I complain that kids these days can’t focus for long when I myself fail at giving them even five minutes of undivided attention a day? It’s counter-intuitive for me at this point. I am that far gone into incessant and compulsive multitasking. Why do just one thing when I can arrange our social calendar, plan tomorrow’s lunch, cross-check credit card bills, and video chat with a friend all at the same time?

I can’t pull a 180, and I don’t even know if it’s wise to pull a 180. But I’m trying to curb my addiction to constant preoccupation by starting small.

Thirty minutes - that’s all I’m aiming for, just to start. I will try my very best, no matter the amount of work on my plate or the length of my to-do list or the keenness of my desire to jump into the next novel or Netflix show, to put down my phone and dedicate at least thirty minutes of undivided, focused attention on my children each day (Tim and I do it for each other too, although it’s thirty minutes out of a week instead. Compared to kids, adult relationships are like succulents. We’ll live.). I still spend time with the kids all day. I still care for them and teach them and watch them.

But for thirty minutes a day, I want to be 100% present and 100% engaged as a mother.

I had no idea it would be so hard!

The first time I tried it, my hands twitched for my phone every 4-5 minutes. The kids are incredibly happy to have Mommy doing focused play with them, but they also occasionally engage with the toys or books themselves. And the temptation to start doing something else the moment they begin to turn away is extremely strong. Humans are selfish by nature, and it’s such a struggle to force myself not to seek my own entertainment but to just be with the kids and be completely present, physically, emotionally, and mentally.

But it gets better.

The second time, I didn’t miss my phone quite as much. The third time, I was surprised to see the thirty minutes feel like five. Every time, I see the spark of learning in the children’s eyes, I see their antics and their grins, I feel their hugs and their kisses - and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

And while all those precious moments may feel like the best rewards already, I know this goes beyond that. Like all of parenting, this is about stewardship. And I know I am being a poor steward of the children God has entrusted us if all I ever offer them is a distracted mother watching them from afar, interfering only when something seems particularly worthy of attention. How will they ever understand God’s love and omnipresence if even the closest people they have in their lives are so often only half-present one way or another?

And so I pray to be better. I hope to be better. And I hope those pockets of thirty mommy minutes will be a good place to start.

Planning Mother's Day

A mere half a day earlier, I was having fun brainstorming with my husband about what sort of Mother’s Day celebration I wanted next week. After years of yearning to participate in this holiday, it means a lot to me every year to set aside a special day to consider and celebrate the blessing of earthly parenthood. Did I want a special meal? Or a special gift? Or a hotel stay?

What I didn’t expect was to be in the Emergency Room by midnight, caring for a crying, hungry, vomiting toddler while we wait to see if his hydration levels would require hospitalization - less than 48 hours after having had to do the same for his sister. One is the rosy image of motherhood: all cards and hugs and smiles and food. The other is the actual pulse of motherhood: nurturing, laboring, comforting, weeping, and giving of yourself until you feel you have nothing left to give.

One makes a mom feel special through pampering and praises. The other compels a woman to rise above her circumstances and rely on God for strength she can never have on her own.

By God’s grace, after medical intervention, both babies are back home, poised to continue their hydration regimes in a more comfortable setting even though their stomach bugs are not fully recovered. It’s still not over, but we’re thankful to get to care for them where they thrive best. We pray that they will quickly improve and not face further complications.

But there has never been a more stark reminder for me of what motherhood seemed to look like from afar versus what motherhood really entails on the ground. All those years of wishing I could have the sentimental version of motherhood never taught me to appreciate the nitty, gritty, harsh reality version of it. The former makes me feel good about myself. The latter makes me cling onto an omnipotent God.

Experiencing the challenges of motherhood firsthand also makes me appreciate all the more the parents who have been entrusted with children with various types of health issues. Whether these children face disabilities, accidents, congenital defects, recurrent illnesses, or even more serious challenges, their parents step up, and I admire them and praise God for them as I witness their unwavering dedication to their children.

God empowers us to carry the yokes He places upon our shoulders, and I thank Him that we can always hang onto to His promise that He loves and cares for us like as a Shepherd and as our Heavenly Father.

Pressing Play

For one-and-a-half years, my husband and I have lived on survival mode as we tried our best to care for twin babies in the most personal, hands-on way we could. Days and nights roll into a blur of dirty diapers, endless milk bottles, crying, cuddling, giggles, and tears. We eat what we can, and we sleep when we can. Things we used to take for granted, from traveling to shopping to drinking coffee before it turns cold, feel like luxuries to be savored like special occasions. With a global pandemic confining us mostly to the house, every day becomes even more of the same thing over and over again. It’s a blessing to have the children, and we love them with all our hearts. At the same time, we can go a little stir crazy from the sameness of it all.

But time is fickle. What feels endless one moment can become over in the blink of an eye. And suddenly, we have two toddlers in the house running and laughing and being frenemies in every sense of the word. Suddenly, the babies no longer feel like babies but rather two miniature human beings with their own personalities, preferences, and talents.
And I can suddenly start to resume some other things again.

I can cook minimally. I can read more. I can sleep more than 2 hours at a time.

I can write again, I can work more, and I can take a shower uninterrupted. I can eat the food I want or use the beauty products I want without worrying if they will affect fertility, pregnancy, or breastfeeding.

It feels oddly like another coming-of-age chapter. And just like young adulthood, it’s putting my values to the test.

With the slight increase in flexibility comes a corresponding increase in choices. Where do I spend my time? What things do I prioritize?

It’s hard to admit, but I’ve found myself being selfish more often than not.

It’s just easier to want to use my newfound pockets of time to indulge in shopping or pampering or other shallow things of the world. It’s easy to get carried away with chatting with my friends or getting caught up in the latest show or book. Even in a pandemic world, I know there are better ways to spend my time.

There are so many ways to minister: from praying for others to reaching out online to exerting more effort to make a better home for my family. There are so many ways to grow: from learning new skills to dedicating myself to more spiritual pursuits.

Standing on the threshold of another new year, I pray that God will help me to make the right choices every day. I pray that He will grant me the strength to work when I should and the faith to rest when I can. I pray that my heart will not be turned to the things of the world but to what truly pleases Him.

And as the children continue to grow by His grace, may they grow up in a home where their increasing independence is not a ticket to my selfishness, but rather an opportunity for all of us to continue to learn, to improve, and to serve.

Our Story: A Testimony

2013: THE HOPES THAT FELL EMPTY

It was always our dream to start a family together and have multiple children.

From the moment we became husband and wife, we looked forward to becoming parents. We made plans, we picked names, and we dreamed our share of dreams about what sort of family we wanted. We even delayed travel plans on the hope of a pregnancy that never happened!

But it wasn’t God’s plan for all those dreams and expectations to come to fruition in the way we wanted, and it was a hard lesson learned through month after month of waiting that stretched into years.

The continuous disappointment hurt. Children’s parties and baby showers became hard to attend, a reminder of what we couldn't have. Our social lives grew lonelier as our friends “overtook” us and turned their focus on their own children. Social pressures mounted, as many assumed we didn't want kids or were doing it wrong. We continued to pray, and welcomed the prayers of friends, family, and church members.

We wanted the gift of children, and the people around us wanted us to have the gift of children, but God had a better plan that we couldn't yet understand.

For two long years, we wrestled with our dreams of children and God's will for us. We made the rounds with many doctors, most of which were suggested by friends and family and church members. We tried different medicines and herbal treatments. We were told to try methods from other religions or to pray to other gods, neither of which we did. We held firm in our belief that God knew better, and the end never justifies the means. At the end of the day, we knew that the desire for children should never take the place of glorifying God, and we chose not to pursue anything that would point to other faiths, distract us spiritually, or negatively affect our marriage.

If God withheld children, He did so for a reason. And even though it was not up to us to know why, it was up to us to content ourselves and serve Him with whatever He did give.

2015: THE YEAR OF NEW BEGINNINGS

The third year of marriage was a turning point for us, and not for reasons most people would expect.

God still didn’t give us children. He still didn’t let us be parents. That part of His plan was not something we even knew would happen yet. But it was around this time in our marriage that we learned to not just be content with our life as a married couple without kids - but to embrace that stage in full.

We focused our time and energy on work, studies, and ministry. Wen earned her Masters through online studies while Tim took several courses at seminary. We enjoyed God's abundant blessings to us together. We travelled, and experienced the beauty and marvel of God's creation. We broadened our horizons both physically and mentally. We took on more ministries and thrived in our freedom.

Even with no children in sight, our hearts and lives were full.

And even though our childlessness was still a cross to bear, even though seeing our friends easily get pregnant left and right was still difficult, we knew we weren’t just waiting for life to happen.

God gave us a special season of life we did not expect to have, and the best thing we could do with that season was to live it to the fullest.

2017: THE BABIES WE NEVER MET

In 2017, after almost five years of marriage, the Lord led us to pursue fertility treatment locally with KATO Biotech Repro Center in Makati. It wasn’t our first consultation with an IVF clinic. We had previously visited other ones, both locally and internationally, and received different levels of suggested intervention.

None of the other ones felt right.

A lot of clinics did not value the embryos as we did. They were willing to discard or manipulate the embryos to get a desired result, such as getting a specific gender or removing health defects. We believed that the embryos contained human life and to treat them so callously was against our beliefs.

KATO was different. They understood the value of the embryos, and made every effort to keep all the embryos alive. They would not allow gender selection, nor would they manipulate the embryos in any way. We appreciated how they respected our privacy, our convictions, and our medical perspectives. They rejoiced with us when our embryos were improving, and mourned with us when we lost them.

After much prayer, we proceeded with our first round of IVF. Three cycles later, we had two Day-2 cleavage embryos frozen while one Day-5 blastocyst embryo was transferred into Wen’s womb.

The odds were good. Wen was not even thirty at the time, a young age for IVF. The embryo implanted, the pregnancy test came back positive, and a general attitude of optimism filled the families as everyone within our immediate circles traded congratulations.

But something was off. In the next few weeks, the embryo had been growing steadily, but we couldn't find any heartbeats. The embryo had split, creating identical twins, but neither developed past a yolk sac. The doctors at KATO wanted to hold out hope that the babies would still grow, but by Week 12, the truth had settled in: the babies never made it. And after a month of waiting, Wen underwent a D&C.

It wasn’t the ending everyone wanted, but it was what the Lord allowed; and we could only trust that He worked all things for the good of His purposes even as we mourned.

2019: THE BABIES WHO BEAT THE ODDS

After the heartbreak of our first IVF transfer, we didn't feel particularly keen to rush into the next one. But two of our embryos - two tiny human beings - still remained frozen, and we knew we were responsible to give them the chance at life they needed.

Two years after our first IVF transfer, we made time to place the two remaining embryos in the womb. The odds were clearly against them from the start. There were significantly lower survival rates for Day-2 embryos compared to Day-5 embryos. And when the Day-5 one we transferred years ago didn’t make it, what chances did these have after being frozen for 2 years?

But God is not a God of human chances.

We braced ourselves for the worst, and accepted that we would see it through no matter what happened. Yet milestone after milestone, from implantation to heartbeats to “graduation” from our clinic, we watched in awe at the babies’ resilience. By the second trimester, we were allowed to move to the care of a regular doctor, and the weeks and months continued to pass, with the babies passing all their tests and scans.

At 18 weeks gestation, we learned that we were expecting a boy and a girl. One of the things we valued about KATO was that they did not scan the embryos for gender or allow people to “choose” what genders they wanted to place in the womb. That assurance allowed us to rest in the knowledge that God chose this for us.

On June 24, 2020, after having spent half of the pregnancy in lockdown, we welcomed Minela Rey Eliza and Michael James Liam via scheduled C-section at 38 weeks gestation: two healthy, full-term, IVF babies God has entrusted to our care.

2020: THE YEAR OF THE HOME QUARANTINE

Over the years, we’ve had our chance to dream and imagine what parenthood might look like for us. A worldwide pandemic with huge, localized lockdowns was definitely not something we ever expected.

But we have so much to be thankful for. From the timely arrival of a household helper to the generosity of loved ones to the precious time we get to spend being hands-on with the babies, we experience God’s abundant grace over and over again each day.

The days can feel long, the nights even longer. The demands of everyday faithfulness in all the little things can sometimes make us feel weary and worn.

But up-close, hands-on parenting has allowed us to witness God’s grace in a host of ways that we never did before. Parenting makes you pray about things you never expected to pray about: from making sure a baby poops to thanking God for diaper sales to celebrating little things like baby smiles and baby cuddles. And when the going gets rough (because it often does), we are driven to our knees all the more to beg for His wisdom and strength.

We thank God for twins who can keep each other company even during a quarantined babyhood. We thank God for the years we had to build a solid marriage between us before we had to steward two tiny human beings together. We thank God that He is, above all, our Father. And we have a model for parental love because He first loved us.

The days, months, and years ahead may be everything or nothing like we’ve ever imagined. But we rest content in knowing that our God is in control.

We pray that we will be good stewards of these children, and that they will grow to know and love the Lord as we have, and follow in our spiritual footsteps however God leads them. To God be the glory!