Health Insurance

I always say we pay for insurance to give us the imaginary belief we will be financially OK when something wrong ever happens to us, but instead, we should pay for insurance to give us the imaginary belief we will never ever use it.

Over a month ago, our Friend Tom had a plane crash and broke a bone in his back without feeling his legs (see A Lesson in Proportion). As you can imagine, we were very disturbed as his friends and looked for ways to support him. Using all our happiness-coaching skills, we helped him imagine a happy future and set goals for every day and week. Sure enough, he started feeling parts of his legs gradually and our hopes grew stronger.

For weeks, every time we came to visit Tom, he had a “story of the day” for us. Some stories were happy, but unfortunately, most were sad and disturbing. We tried to encourage him to write down his hospital “adventure” for several good reasons.

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Precious Baby

It is funny to talk about kids and money, but even money can be the difference between having kids and not. Here is a story that illustrates what I mean.

Maxine wanted babies all her life, but never wanted to have one by herself. Single parenting was not very appealing to her. When everyone started nagging her to get married and warned her she was “missing the train”, she kept saying she would not have a child on her own and since the right guy could not be seen on the horizon, her baby dreams seemed farther and farther away.

Then, at the age of 37, Maxine met Don, who was even a bit older. They both knew the clock was ticking for both of them, but Don was afraid of the commitment and did not want to rush their relationship. The wonderful love between Maxine and Don was cluttered by the ticking sounds of their advancing age.

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Give Me 22 Reasons

For over six month, I have had a note posted here on the shelf over my computer. The note says, “Give me 20 good reasons”. All this time, I knew what I wanted to write, but I was not sure I would be able to go through the “open heart surgery” of telling you about my loss. I think I was building up the confidence to write about it.

Whenever I asked myself what I was afraid of, I knew I was scared of dragging myself again through old emotions of loss and hopelessness. I had been there twice and the feelings had faded but not disappeared.

This sticky note on my shelf is what made me write the posts about my loss.

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What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger

I have always thought of myself as a good mother. It has been easier for me than for other people, because I have studied Special Education and I have had the knowledge to raise happy and successful kids.

Yet, during my Better Parenting Skills workshops, I surprise people when I tell them that a big part of my parenting confidence comes not from my studies or my professional experience, but from my personal loss (if you are here for first time, please read 35-hour Baby).

You see, when people talk about having it tough, I can relate to it and say, “When you are hit hard, you discover how much stronger you are than what you thought before”. When people talk about failure after failure, I can relate to it too. I have failed twice. Big time! I think the best thing I can give them is better perspective, because I have been through it and come out with a smile. If I can do a good job giving you this message about perspective, I will be happy.

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A Choice I Could Not Make

I talk and write a lot about choice. It is no coincidence my motto is “Happiness is a choice!” Yet, there was a time when I could not live by this motto. It was after I had lost two babies. I wanted to make the choice to have only one child and to let go of my desire to go through another pregnancy to satisfy my wish to hold a baby, take him or her home and be happy.

… On my daily walks with Kathy, my doctor friend, I looked for a way to give up. One part of me longed for a baby, a healthy baby that I can take home, and the other part was afraid I would not be able to survive another pregnancy and possibly another loss. To make matters worse, another doctor I had seen told me that since I had already had one baby with a heart defect, my chances of having another one were no longer 1:20,000 but 1:10 (!) and that certainly did not make things easier.

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I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane

Today, I am flying overseas to see my two new 7-month-old nephews for the first time! In the last 7 months, I have seen them in photos and on Skype video calls (thank God for Skype), but when I hold them in my hands, kiss them, hug them and smell them (and their mothers, my two sisters), I will cry for joy.

Both these nephews are the first children of my 36- and 42-year-old sisters and because of the mothers’ age and the pressure of a tough pregnancy of the older sister they are obviously very precious babies. Look at them! I think they know how precious they are. These photos are their real photos with the permission of their mothers.

For one of my sisters, this baby is precious for another reason.

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Winners and Losers

I like to walk around our beautiful neighborhood in the morning. It is one of the things that make me happy. I do it to warm up my body and mind, get my creative juices flowing (into the voice recorder on my mobile phone) and be ready for another great day.

About half way through my walk, when I was already going at a good pace and feeling pretty pumped, I saw a young Chinese woman leaving one of the houses and saying goodbye to a young man standing on the doorstep.

Suddenly, the young woman noticed a bus at a stop about 200 meters away. She became visibly uptight, her pitch rose and she looked like she was asking the young man what to do (as I do not speak Chinese, this is all my interpretation).

The man gestured towards the bus and looked like he was urging the woman to run for it and try to catch it. She kept pleading with him until he joined her and they started running toward the bus stop.

By the time they decided to run and crossed the street, I had been half way to the bus and it was still there. There were no passengers in sight, its doors were closed and it kept waiting.

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I See Good People (and you can too)

In our time, pressure seems to be everywhere. There is a wealth of information like never before, which means we could find out about anything we wanted, only this takes time, so we look for “drip feeds” that will give us up-to-the-minute updates and we assume our sources do a reasonable job at finding and telling things as they are.

Reality is a bit different, unfortunately. Most of our information feeds are controlled by a fairly small group of huge profit-driven conglomerates, which make their money by selling. To sell well, they need people to “see red”, so they inspire fear via TV news broadcasts, bold newspaper headlines and various other methods.

The result of this is the general view that violent crime is everywhere, that different people cannot live together in harmony and that all too often, the only way to sort things out is to wage war on another ethnic group or country, even at the cost of “friendly” life.

So what can you do?

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Lessons in Patience

Have you ever looked at the watch again and again, only to find that 30 seconds had passed? I think humans have a real challenge with the notion of time. Time is not very consistent with the feeling of waiting for something to happen. When we are happy, time seems to fly quickly and all our attempts to freeze the moment for a bit longer result in total failure. When we are down or waiting for something to happen, it is almost as if the clock ticks in . s l o w . m o t i o n.

Feels familiar?

I think I have found the cure for this inconsistency. It is called “patience”. It is kind of a strange cure, almost like vitamins. The less we have of it in our body, the more we need it. You will be very surprised to know that just last month, I had to take large doses of my own medicine, unwillingly of course, but it helped me heal a bit. Today, I would like to share with you some insights I have learned about this medicine, which I call The P Inhaler.

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Teen Suicide

Someone very close to us lost her son to teen suicide. Her son was 18 years old, a great kid who took his dad’s gun one day, sat in his parents’ car in a park and shot himself to death.

He is gone and is probably not suffering anymore, but a whole family he left behind is still picking up the pieces of their shattered life and cannot find comfort.

I am writing to you because I pray you never have to be in the same position.

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