Hey God, were You ever there?

When Philip was sick in hospital, balloons brought him tremendous joy. Especially when they were attached to his feet, Philip would be so entertained seeing them move as his legs moved. And because of that for every Christmas, we would hold a special tradition to remember him by getting coloured balloons and writing our messages on them and releasing them into the sky. 

The balloons got smaller as they drifted further away and it became seemingly clear that Philip was very far away from me. In fact, I used to shed a tear in the first few years when i saw how far the balloons got and thought the distance was always the most painful to deal with grieving my baby. It was only last year that I realised it was in fact not hearing from him that hurts more. 

Us at last year’s Christmas tradition

When God changes your plans

Today would have been Philip's 4th birthday. Four years ago, before giving birth to Philip, I went to the adoration room in the Cathedral of the Good Shepherd since I was all nervous and anxious about the impending C-section, recovery and just having a newborn all over again.

My view just like 4 years ago

It's been some time since I visited the adoration room at the Cathedral and I thought it would be nice to go there again to just sit down and be still.

As I sat and reflected, many questions came to my mind... "What would he look like now?", "What would he like?", "What would he like playing?" and the list goes on.

Yet the greatest fear that struck me was if he knew who I am. It's been four years and I would probably continue to miss him for the rest of my life.. but a selfish part started to wonder what if I was just a stranger to him?

I hadn't planned for him, but when I knew I was pregnant with him, I had plans for him... and in those plans lies hopes and wishes.

I would have wanted him to be a priest... not any other priest but one who is driven to make a difference.. to bring joy and hope to the ones he was called to shepherd (hence he was named after the patron saints of joy and hope - St Philip Neri and St. Jude) 

And as I thought about the dreams I had for Philip, a tear rolled from my eye. 

What is wrong with my plans for Philip, I wondered. 

Why would God need to change my plans to replace them with His if there was nothing wrong with it? 

I stumbled and I could not make sense of it and ironically in the safe place of the adoration room, I started to become angry with God. 

I remained in the prayer room for a while longer and while I didn't get any answer to my question, I didn't leave the place resentful. But for the rest of the day, this question stuck with me. 

We went for mass today as a family and invited Philip's god family over for his 'birthday celebrations'. (I know... my kids find it weird.. but in their love indulge me nonetheless).

A birthday cake with 4 candles

After the party was over, the gentleness and wisdom of God came through. 

Was anything wrong with my plans? Not at all. 

So... why did God want to change my plan? 

Because I saw it for the best for myself, while God saw it from Philip's.

Albeit being born healthy, God knew that Philip would be a very special child who probably was created for a short period on earth to enjoy the eternal reward in heaven. 

For this special child, He needed a family who would embrace and comfort him, welcome and show him a glimpse of God here so that he might know Him when he dies. 

Unfortunately, this plan for him would bring great misery and sorrow to the ones around him, but to that God has made sure that as long as I lean my heart towards Him, this would be bearable. 

"Trust and seek Him in those times," the Holy Spirit tells me... and to the question of whether Philip would forget me, He whispers in my heart... "Never".

I know ALL these came from just 2 couples! 

Hope on a Promise

Dear Michelle

It's been 3 years... and I know everyday you still try to find some form of sign or clue that Philip is around.... 

With that breeze that touches your face as you walked on the streets, could it be a kiss from Philip?

It could be Michelle, but really that's from the bus that is driving past.

Or that random 3 year old boy who stopped and turned round to smile at you, could it be him?

No my dear, he was actually looking for his mummy behind you.

The sun is out after the rain, you are hoping to find a rainbow to tell you that Philip is fine.

Not today Michelle... there's no rainbow but he's fine.

A song, a dream, a child who has cancer, his name in random wine bottles or even a person who would listen about what you can share about Philip (sorry to the strangers who would have to listen to me when I share about my 5th child 😅)... I see everyday that you still try hard to hold on to anything that can keep his legacy alive. 

To others, these attempts may be futile, but I know deep down you are desperate and grieving.

Exactly a week back, I was there at your evening stroll with Daniel. Maybe you had a little too much sake, maybe it was on the topic of gratitude, or maybe it was getting closer to 1 September, either which, I was there when you cried. 

I heard you asked why did I need to choose Philip, why couldn't I spare him, why did I choose you to be a testimony.  

For the past 3 years, I see you and I hear your cries and I know your pain.

You brought Simon out to the park today with Daniel. I saw Dan putting him in the stroller without strapping him in, while you and Kyra ran ahead of them. In Simon's excitement to want to catch up with you, he stepped out of his stroller and fell. He scratched his elbow and head and let out a loud cry. Daddy carried him and placed him in the stroller, but that did nothing to stop his cries until you picked him up and kissed him. His wound remains, but he felt better. 

I hope through that you will remember that while your wounds may remain, I will be there in that moment when you hurt, carry you up, kiss you and tell you everything is going to be fine. And for that moment, it will be enough.

You see my child, I never needed you to defend me when my creation gets mad at me. Nothing you say will be enough for them to understand the situation and I never had in mind that you would be a testimony or defendent for me. I am glad that your choices and response did, but this was not why Philip's life on earth was for 6 months.

Continue to walk with Me. Continue to trust and continue to hope... not in outcomes or in how you want it to be done, but in Me. Unless your hope is in Me, you will continue to be disappointed and let down every single day.

Draw on the Me when you need strength, lean on Me when you need to rest, cry to Me when you are helpless, come to Me when you need to be carried. 

In the midst of your grief, you will learn where you have placed your hope. You may not know what tomorrow brings, but trust me and count on my promise and nothing else. Live life day by day without the need to know what will come next, not because you don't have the right to do so, but that would just drain and rob you the joy of living. 

Have unconditional hope in Me and hold Me to My promise that I will be there with you every single step and way. 

Pick up your cross and follow Me. Have faith in Me, my child, have an unwavering faith. It may not be in your lifetime that you will see My plan, but I promise you that all wounds will be healed one day, all tears will be wiped away, the dead will all rise and all mysteries will be understood. But until that day comes, take heart that even though you will feel the pain and hurts in this world, I have already overcome this world.

Unlike the hope the world gives, your hope has a name - Mine.

Take heart, my dear child, take heart, for I am with you through it all.

I love you.

God.

Hey God... It's Me.

Hi Father,

It's Philip's birthday today. Interestingly when it's the birthdays of my other kids, I don't really talk to you about their birthdays, just this one special child.

5 days old

I remembered the day after Philip's first major surgery, Dan and I visited him at ICU ward to check in on him. He had so many tubes coming out of his body that it was a pain to watch. I never took a picture of that thinking that I didn't want to remember him in that state, but ironically, I soon came to realise it will never be a choice since I won't be able to shake off that image of him in my memory. Philip was conscious but he had this perpetual frown on his face. It was as if he was saying to us "Why did you do this to me?" or "Why didn't you stop them from doing this to me?"

And while I was laughing at his choice of expression then, it must have been to him that we have failed him as parents. Something I am sure You can relate to many times a day. "Why Lord, did you allow bad things to happen" or "Why Lord did you allow me to suffer?" 

I wished I could explain to Philip then why we needed to do the operation or even do any of the surgical procedures, unfortunately, there was no way of us explaining to him why things were such. Our understanding capabilities are of a different level. And today as I went for my run, I realised for those times I questioned why, it was not because You did not have the answer, or that You were not present, it was because there was no way you could help me understand why.

Last Sunday, Dan shared that the phrase that struck him was from the second reading, "Where, O Death, is your sting?" And while it reminded him that life on earth is temporary, it's significant events like these that reminds me the sting is in the memories, in my heart and in my mind.

And after three years, I still wish that You would choose to let Philip stay with me, but I also realised that "my ways are not your ways, and my thoughts are not your thoughts". I will never be able to understand why this must happen.. and for now during these moments when I struggle with not being able to understand your ways, I take comfort that You have never stopped to be near to me... even as I walk away from You during moments of darkness. From the priest who offered to say mass with the family, despite his busy schedule, to the acquaintance who reached out with a word of consolation for today... Thank you Father, for never giving up on me... even when I (the lowly one) don't deserve that. 

I can't be with Philip today... so please hug him a little tighter and kiss him a little more for me today. And in case he forgets about us, remind him that we still miss him and will never stop loving him... just as how you will never stop loving me. 

Love,

Your Child.

Us today…. 💕

A Letter to Me... From me

Dearest Me,

I have never written a letter to you before. I have talked to many people and God about what had happened in your life but never talked to you before and so today, I thought I should. 

My dear, it's been two years since you had experienced your greatest pain in life thus far... and I think personally, you have been doing very very well. It's true that you have a lot to work on... like how you are still impatient, still easily irritable, still brutally honest and in many ways still not perfect...but you have surpassed way better than you could have imagined. 

You did become less idealistic in life though. You who once believed that real bad things won't happen to you will realise that they do. But accepting that fact didn't make you lose hope that in today there are many things to be grateful for each day. Even though you have felt like you died this very day two years back, I'm grateful that you make the decision every single day to want to live not because you have to but because there's also no need for you to stop living and appreciating this gift God has given to you.

Two years ago, R.I.P to you simply meant Rest in Peace, two years later, you wish it means Return If Possible. You still grieve every single day. You won't know how to shake this pain off or feel better... and unfortunately, unless you forget who you lost, you will always remember who you lost. 

For a long time you had wondered how the grace of God was sufficient for you after Philip had died. People see what you do as great strength, because they simply can't imagine what they will do if they were in your shoes, but they didn't realise that your everyday act is a breath of new life from the Holy Spirit, something which anyone and everyone can do if they only have a little bit more of faith in themselves as well as in the Father.

I know you didn't sign up to be in the bereavement mother's group... unfortunately none of the members in this group (or any loss group) became a member willingly. But in these two years, you have learnt not to waste your pain and your grief. You have learnt in turn to use this grief to be more compassionate to the one who'e struggling, to watch out more for the one who is lost and left behind, and you have used this pain to in hope to bring some joy to someone else.

To you, you never knew if it was harder for you to remember Philip's would-be birthday or his death anniversary. You would have wished that more people got to know Philip but since that is not possible, you worked very hard to not let the memory of his existence be forgotten. But you soon realised that the best way of showing who Philip was to you was to live your life with lessons he has left you with... faith, hope and love. 

I don't know what the future will look. I know there will be days when you will laugh (it's great!) and there will be days when for no reason your tears will just flow (and it's okay!). Some days you look around and will feel like you have everything, other days you will look at what you had lost and feel like you got nothing. It's at these moments when you will question why God had allowed you to go through this and it is during these times you will also remember what your husband told you, that God's role was to take away sin not suffering.

By now, you will know that unlike a flu or illness, your grief will not go away and you won't be free from this pain you are going through. But each time you hurt, you have learnt that it's an invitation from God to be closer to you. 

So my dear girl, Philip will always be precious to you... but above that you are not just going to be precious to him but to the One who gave him to you. 

You need to remember this, that though Philip has gone somewhere really really far, he is always in the hugs and kisses his siblings give you, in the gentle breeze when you go on your walks and even when your tears roll down your cheeks thinking about him. But more importantly, you need to remember that where he is in, God is there too.

Love always,

Me

When we mistake God's sign

There are moments in the past that will always be replayed in my mind and while the last few months before Philip's passing was a blur to me, I remembered this scene very clearly. 

This was after Philip's brain surgery and the night before we realised that his abdomen was a little bloated and his testicles were a little swollen. It wasn't a good sign and that night we went to bed worried.

The next morning, I was getting ready to bring Philip to see the oncologist when Dan rushed home and showed me the reading of the day. He was very much filled with faith that Philip will be fine.  

I wasn't as sure as he was.. but I just went along with him because to me, even when I didn't have peace in my heart. 

This has been an internal struggle for Daniel for the first 10 months after Philip died... and since it is the first reading for today... I will share with you his reflection. :) 

The msg the Mister sent
me today

The First Reading today is a particularly difficult one for me as it brings back many memories. It’s a reading from the book of Judges. The story is how God called Gideon and what Gideon’s response was. In 2019 when Philip was very ill in hospital, I was very afraid that he would die and I remember asking God that fateful morning. Show me a sign that would tell me Philip’s fate. I was in the adoration room in the Church of the Holy Spirit, all alone and pleading with the Lord for a sign, just like Gideon did. 

The gist of the reading was “Do not be afraid, you will not die.” I cried as I took it to mean that Philip will not die then. 

As we all know, Philip passed away a couple of weeks later. I was shocked, horrified and indignant! Didn’t God give me a sign through the exact same reading 2 years ago? What happened to what He said to me? I was confused, angry, upset to say the least. That anger eventually led to indifference. If God’s will be done, why even seek my opinion? Why even bother to give me hope when there wasn’t to be any hope! Why lie to me? 

It took me a really long time and many struggles to come to the realisation that God’s plan will be done anyway, but we are called to “want” His plan for us. This calls for humility and obedience to His will. 

So it was with some trepidation that I re-read this morning’s First Reading. Gideon was called by the Lord to save His people Israel. But Gideon said that he was from the smallest tribe in Israel and the weakest member of his family. How could he even rise up against Israel’s enemies? It seemed so absurd and ridiculous! But God reassured him that He would go with Gideon and perform the works and power in Gideon’s behalf. Gideon of course didn’t believe and sought to ask for a sign (just like me). He made an offering of unleavened bread and lamb which the angel of the Lord caused to be burnt as a sign of the acceptance of Gideon’s offering to the Lord. Gideon then realised that he had seen the face of the angel of the Lord and in the Old Testament, anyone who sees the face of God or His angels will be struck down and die. But God reassured him that “Do not be afraid, you will not die!”

That perspective changed my thinking for now I know that God perhaps wants me to see His face and His will and go through His plan for me, but I need to trust Him and be obedient and docile to His plan for me, then I “will not die”. 

God always calls the weakest, the youngest, the one who in Man’s eyes are nothing, to be His instrument. He chose Moses, someone who couldn’t talk well; He chose David, the youngest and weakest child of Jesse. He chose Gideon and now He chooses you and me. Not to rely on our own strength and intellect but instead to put our own ego aside and just follow the promptings of the Spirit to do His will. 

God never calls the ready, He readies the called. We can come up with a million and one excuses not to do His will, but I ask you today to put aside your reason and human understanding, and just say “Yes” to Him today. “Not mine, but Thy Will be done”. You will be amazed by what will happen!

Because You were here...

Dearest Philip,

If you were here, we would be celebrating your second birthday today. I doubt it would be anything fancy, but it would be a celebration nonetheless if you are around.

After 4 kids, no one would ever believe that you were an accident. (Thanks guys 😏) Or at least no one would believe that we didn't try to conceive you. You weren't a gift Mummy was praying for, but it quickly became ironic that you were the gift Mummy prayed very hard to God to not take away. You see, as much as I was not the most enthusiastic person to find out I was pregnant with you, I struggle with the sharp pain of giving you back to God.

It's been two years and while I don't remember much about the day I had you, I realised I don't remember much about you. I was feeling all anxious a few weeks back, because I was afraid that one day you will become a stranger to me. While you are my child, I actually don't know much about you. I don't know what you like or you don't. I don't know what dreams you have or even how you will look when you lose your baby fats. I don't know what your first word would be, what your fashion style is or how even your voice sounds. I realised my child, in many ways, I don't know you. 

I recognise I had many dreams for you. I imagined that you would be a brilliant boy in school and even challenging your brothers academically. I thought you were going to be charming and all the ladies would be swoon by you. You would be like who you were named after, St Philip Neri, who would bring so much joy to the people you would meet. In fact, I always thought that you would be a priest (bishop even!), one who will be able to convince another just by looking at you. You would be such a wonderful gift, but all these my child would be what my plans and hopes for you. And because they are just my desires and plans of you... it really isn't you.

And yet despite not knowing much of you, my heart still aches and yearns for the next time we meet again. I'm sure with all the love and joy you have been getting from God in heaven, that you possibly may not be missing anything here. It's just that selfishly I wish you will not stop remembering who I am, my boy.

People often celebrate birthdays as a highlight of how much they have grown through the year. And as such, I wished my life was just like any other parent, celebrating the milestone of my child and spoiling him rotten with a special cake and presents. But this is not to be. And while you may not be physically with me today, it doesn't mean we would be sulking today. (I really doubt we will have any cake or blow any candles today though 😅)

My dear boy, your life, though short, is worth celebrating and remembering. Not just because we miss you but because we thank God for who you made us become during the short time we had together. Because of you, I have become more careful to reach out to those struggling in pain around me, to cheer them on and to support them when they needed a break. It's also because of you, I have become a better parent and catechist to your siblings in making sure that I don't lose any of them to the ways of the world. But more importantly, it is also because of you, that I was born again to believe that God really loves me. He may have seemed to have ignored me when He chose to bring you home, but truth was He has sent me many more angels to guard my heart so that I would not become cynical of the wonders of life and the excitement each day has for me. 

I have come to realise that unlike other superficial wounds, He may never allow this wound to be fully healed. Not that He was being sadistic just so to cripple me and make me lean on Him, but more importantly to push me forward to know how much more I can do and how much more I need to better live life because of my love for you.

It's been two years my boy, and while it seems this year I started the day (again) in tears, I too look forward to today. Your siblings and us have decided that we will be fasting and abstaining today. Not because we are grieving, but it was with the intention to support and carry another with our prayers and thoughts as our gift to you. (Don't worry, we will reward them to a nice dinner... it's after all your birthday 😅)

Your siblings especially your brothers may need a little help from you to get through the day, judging from the discussion as to what they can eat in school 😅. And while they think chicken should go under the category of fish, I am seriously proud of them too for wanting to do this in honour of you. Can you see what a great priest you would be if Julian, your brother, is willing to forego food for you? 

Happy birthday my dear boy. I know God must be very pleased (and busy answering the prayer intentions we will be offering) with you and your heavenly party would be well taken care of. Maybe if you want, you think you could ask God to draw us a picture of the rainbow in the sky so that we could also be part of your heavenly birthday celebrations too? 

Have a wonderful time in heaven my dear boy. 

I love you my dear, never stopped, never will. 

Eternally yours,

Mummy

Legacy of a Baby

I remember before Philip's death, I'd always looked forward to the next year because the current year was what I thought to be sucky or had nothing to shout about. Somehow, when Philip died, I was probably just going through life and was neither excited or dreading the year to come. Partly because nothing would be more tragic than that and because I was really learning to live in the moment.

It's been a year since Philip died, and yet this year I'm pleased to share that I am looking forward to the next year. Not because that 2020 has been bad (I really am grateful for 2020), but there's so many exciting things to look forward to in 2021. (And no I'm not having another baby😏)

A rainbow we saw at our 
family holiday this year

Through the past year, I have had many people coming to ask me if I ever once was angry with God. And while it doesn't seem so, I have been upset with God many times. I was upset that He gave me Philip when I didn't ask for it. I was more upset that He took him away when I prayed very hard for him to stay. I got irritated when He dangled some hope in front of me through bible passages and when Philip started to re
act to the meds only to abruptly snatch that away from me. I was bitter and envious when I saw kids the same age as Philip, growing and thriving while I just buried mine. 

I even became cynical in the power of prayers and wondered whether God bothered to answer mine. Like during Philip's last days, I had always asked God to assure me that everything would be fine by showing me a rainbow in the sky. I saw rainbows on a balloon, on a sweater, in the hospital charts but never a rainbow in the sky. 

Then Philip died, which probably would be enough to justify if I ever walked away from God.

Many times, the bitterness and anger from life come from this little voice we hear in us. 

This voice which tells us "Life is not fair. You don't deserve this." And strangely, as we grow older, we tend to believe it more and allow it to take over our lives more. 

We think God didn't fulfil His part of the contract and permit ourselves to be angry and walk away, because after all, God failed. 

I still don't know why God chose to give him an illness with a next to nothing fighting chance or to take him away. I don't believe He needed Philip to be an extra angel in heaven (I mean He IS God, He doesn't need to take anything from us to make Him happy 😏), neither do I believe that He thinks I will screw up being a mother of 5 that's why He took Philip away. (That's really just being extra...) 

So why do I stay on being a loser? Because my little (Saint) Philip still gives me hope. 💕

Philip after his second op

Philip taught me through his operations and illness to smile despite the challenges (I mean he had moments when he laughed even while "facing" death and pain), to never let the tragedy of his life define him (he was never known to be the baby with cancer, but the cute and smiley baby whom the nurses would try to win a smile from), that living a life with hope, looking forward to the next day is wayyy easier than being bitter and angry.

Many who are angry with God with the unfairness in life, forgot too often that even He had to allow His Son to die. 

My little saint may only just be a baby, who has no degree, knows no language, gets no followers, but just like the little baby in Christmas, is cheering me on to live out my life with greater courage, more hope and humanity.

Could God change the tragedy from happening? Of course. But did God ever leave me? Never. 

And as we end 2020, I pray that I will always be reminded how blessed I am to have bore and held a saint in my arms and how much love and hope I can offer from the gifts I have
gotten thus far.   

Picking Up the Pieces, Picking Up my Cross

Dearest Philip,

How are you in heaven? Have you been busy testing your wings in your free time or have you been swamped with prayer requests during your "working hours"?

It's been almost a year since we last met. Despite the reasons to smile and be grateful for, there hasn't been a day when mummy stopped thinking or missing you. 

Since your passing, (other than having another baby 😅) I did many things to deal with your absence. I stayed away from big gatherings so that I didn't need to deal with pitiful or sympathetic conversations, I stayed away from babies who are similar to your age so as not to be reminded of my loss, I even locked myself in my own cocoon so that I didn't need to wear any mask to cover the rawness of the pain.

I have heard many people commenting that time will heal the pain. To that, I have learnt to just smile and keep quiet. Maybe they are right.. maybe they have experienced something in life that I have yet to learn, or maybe it's just that they are really blessed to not have lost something that mattered more than life to them. 

But the biggest struggle I had after you died ironically wasn't dealing with your absence but with my own guilt. 

I had always wondered if I had done enough for you, if I had really shown you in my capacity how much I love you. The night before your death, daddy and I even dressed ourselves up to attend a function because we didn't want to dampen the spirits of the people who were there. And even though we left 5 minutes into the start of the event, I'd always wondered if you had blamed me for not being around you more. Not many people knew this, but the reason why I never opened the casket during your wake was because the c-pap mask that you wore during the last days of your life had caused an abrasion and a dent at your nose area which I only noticed it after they removed the mask when they died. You must have been really uncomfortable during that time but I wasn't able to offer any consolation. You were left on the hospital ward for quite some time because daddy and I couldn't find your original birth certificate and because of that you couldn't be transferred to the mortuary. 

At times I read about stories of children going through the same cancer as you. Most of them don't make it but because they underwent chemotherapy and radiation, they did live longer. And I wondered too if our lives would be different if I had chosen the chemo route for you. 

I replayed your last few months in my head throughout the year and always wondered did we do enough  for you and more importantly did we tell you enough that we love you. 

The gospel today reminded me a very harsh truth what being a disciple meant - to carry my cross daily. Darling, unfortunately you will always be my cross I would need to bear till I die. When you died last year, a part of me died together with you. 

And even though you were with us for only 6 months, you truly taught me so much more than what I have learnt in my whole life. When the doctors told me about your diagnosis, it was not only the first time I actually felt any concrete pain in life, but the first time I had experienced the cross. My faith was crumbling and there were moments when I doubted the goodness of God. 

Because of you, I have learnt to understand the phrase "not my will but yours be done". On the day of your funeral, not only did I bury you, I also needed to bury my disappointments and my dreams I had for you. But I came to learn that while there was nothing wrong with my hopes and dreams, God just had a very different plan and vocation for you. And it was through you, mummy learnt to ask for strength to surrender. 

It didn't take me long to realise that nothing will ever be possible to fill the void you left behind. It's ironic, but human logic of finding something else to fill the void doesn't help in the healing. Healing ironically came when mummy decided to give away more of her heart to those around her.

Because of this pain I experienced, I have learnt to reach out to more people who are struggling with a little more humility and compassion. And each time when they opened their lives and hearts to me, that small part of my heart starts to become alive again.

I have learnt to be okay with God's choice of not healing you, because even though I am your mummy, I know that He loves you more than I do. Thank you baby, for jumpstarting my relationship with God, for teaching me in a very concrete manner how to submit to my daily cross. 

It's been one year since I last saw you... but it's also one year closer to meeting you again. So until I get my chance to hold you again, I promise you that mummy is going to live her life and laugh again. And know that every breath I take, I'll be taking one for you. 💕

Always missing you,

Mummy. 

P a few weeks before he died

Growing with Grief

It has been four months since I have made a new friend - Grief. Not that I ever welcomed her into my life, or that I asked to hang around, but she decided to make herself comfortable and stay on.

I soon got comfortable with her and somehow I realised that till the day that I die, she will be my constant companion.

Many don't realise it and tell me that with time, she will become a stranger and slowly fade away. However, those who told me so, probably have never lost a piece of their hearts before. There are both good and bad things about grief. The good, I always tell others, is that life will never get worse. The bad and saddest thing is, unfortunately, life will just go on. 

Since my last blog entry, I said that I was staying in my tomb for quite a bit.  Being in my tomb was probably like being at the bottom of the mountain, seeing and learning different views which being on the mountain top will never be able to help me see. 

1) We often credit God way tooooo much for our own good.

In the past four months, I kept hearing people commenting about how God has a better or greater plan for me. Like how He will never give me a cross way too big for me to bear. *Rolls eyes* (apparently my sarcasm did not die with Philip) 

That initially made me wonder what did I do so wrong or so right that God decided to give me such a big cross. (I mean it would be wayyyyyyyyy easier to love God if He could just reward me with a big lottery win) But it seemed that because humans need to have an explanation for everything, we console ourselves by telling us that God can't be that cruel to us. 

Or how maybe God was just doing me a favour by saving me a greater heartache and taking Philip to a better place now. (Of which I smiled and decide to walk away)

Unfortunately, I didn't do anything right (or wrong) to have what I got. It was all the while going to be my life. God didn't give me the cross. He did however allow it to happen and with it He gave me the right people to journey with and watch out for me. The right enough raw ingredients of hope, faith and grace to recognise that there is something to look forward to even if I were to die tomorrow. (Which obviously I hope I don't) And from those raw ingredients, hopefully it will grow and become a testimony that He had never abandoned me. 

2) Grief was never meant to imprison a soul

I shared with some friends whom I still meet up with that "Call me if you need me" is probably one of the worst lines I would want to hear in times of grief from a friend. Not many realise that the person whom they say it to hardly use that "call me" card. 

Many friends thought I needed time and left me alone. I don't blame them for personally death isn't something many are comfortable to deal with. The unfortunate thing was, not many realised that I didn't need time alone or to be left alone... I needed them. Unfortunately, being in your own tomb, causes one to look inward, at one's pain, one's misery and just at oneself.

I became selfish and excused myself from many of the gatherings they have organised. Afterall, I thought whether I appeared or not, the gathering would still happen, so why should I go? The gathering seemed to fulfill their need of void of boredom rather than comforting me in my loss. 

Yet, I learnt that the purpose of grief wasn't to highlight the unfairness of life, but to emphasize the importance of joy. It does seem ironic, but people seem to appreciate the gift of joy more when it comes from someone who would be filled with pain. It was as if many aspired to want to be joyful than be cynical. 

Just like because of Easter and Good Friday, we can appreciate the gift of Christmas (cuz if not, it's just another baby's birthday?) And so with pain, one learns the magic of joy. 

3) Life is better when you don't need answers

After Philip died, I wondered if I had done enough. The memories of having him in my arms broke my heart, but the "what ifs" I had killed me. "What if we decided to do chemotherapy?", "What if we started treatment earlier" or "What if he was around still?". These questions get worse when you grief somehow. 

Till now, I can't tell you why Philip was given to me only for 6 months. I can't tell you also why God decided to allow one to go through disasters or any calamity. And for the rest of my life, I would probably be pondering on that just like how Mary did till the day she died. She who survived through the death of her spouse and son would probably wonder what did she say yes to. She was afterall (just) doing God's work and she got everything seemingly against her. 

But her doubts, questions and heartaches never made her think twice in who she believed in. And the sooner one realises that one can never answer (and not need to answer) all the questions in life, the sooner you will be able to appreciate life and its surprises better. 

Letting God be God was one of the hardest thing I learnt in 2019. It probably gets harder as we age because we start to attach job scopes and images to what God has to be in order to be "God". But we forget that we are not God and everything is a gift. All my life I have been taught to pray and get what I want, but now a wise priest has told me to start wanting what I got.

I learnt though that what He has taken will never be greater than what He will give. So be comforted that He is a wayyyyyy better God than the one we have in mind.

Image from relationadvisors.com

The promise for Lazarus

It has been three weeks since Philip passed away. One of the hardest challenges now is finding the answer to the question "How are you?". Honestly, if I said I'm fine, it would be a lie really. And if I said I'm not, it will leave both of us (you more so) in a very awkward position. So I'm often quiet when I get that question, to which they will ask the poor mister how I am. 

But in case you still wonder if I am fine, I am fine enough to run the household, to still look pretty (ownself say ownself), to eat my meals and even laugh too. But no, I am not okay yet, which I had learnt just within weeks of P's death, that this grieving may continue till the day I die. Meeting up with more than 2 people (me included) may make me feel anxious. Even doing routine things I did before P's birth, feels different and empty. Almost everyday, there will be moments where I sit down and wallow in the void and just cry.

In short, my days are basically grouped into two - a bad day with some good moments or a good day with many bad moments.

It didn't help that it was my birthday a few days back (which left most of my friends in an awkward position whether to wish me a happy birthday or not). So just within weeks of sharing Philip's passing, my Facebook wall came to live once again with friends wishing me a Happy Birthday. My phone would buzz every few minutes with greetings from friends far and near. I would usually have acknowledged the greeting and just indulge in the attention given for that day. This year though, I just kept quiet.

The greetings I received from my Facebook were left unread, the messages I got from my phone were left unanswered. I was not interested in any of the messages related to my birthday. So yes, I had chosen misery over joy on my birthday. Or rather I didn't allow myself to find joy. After all, since Philip (whom I named after the patron saints of joy and hope) is gone, where is my joy and hope now?

I remembered when Philip was dying, I had asked a wise priest before if God had thought if I was going to screw up and that's why He took Philip away. But that priest reminded me that it will be an insult to God for He who is generous in His love, doesn't give only to see us fail. 

On the night after Philip's first surgery, I was somehow prompted to read the passage on the raising of Lazarus. And because I hardly have any inspirations to read the Bible, I thought it was God telling me that Philip would be okay, even if the odds seemed bad. But Philip died and there's no way now that P will come back to life (especially when his remains are really in an urn). Then why give such hope, I asked. 

Unfortunately or otherwise, hope is often used as synonyms as desire or wish. My wish was that Philip would be here with me but that isn't the hope that God had promised me from the beginning. God just told me to hold on to the truth that He won't fail. 

For He who knows the agony of hoping against all odds that things could change, will understand the depth of grief when they didn't.

And for He who chose the most painful human experience to sacrifice His Son for my salvation, will also weep when mine died. 

And for He who knows how much I can and will love my son, knows that that is only a fraction of how much He already loves me.

That has been the Hope that was promised to me since Day 1.

We managed to do a small
celebration for IZ

It is unfortunate that henceforth my birthday month will always remind me of P's passing (which means I won't know if I would acknowledge next year's greetings. Actually, anything in any day will do so too). Whilst birthdays focuses on the person, I chose then to focus on the pain since it was very much of me now. The "Happy" in Happy Birthday (and no.. the word "Blessed" also won't make a difference) seems to be ironic since I am far from that.

But birthdays, as the very wise priest pointed out, serve as a reminder that God hasn't forgotten about me and has spent is still spending time on me to work on me. (Such wisdom... What am I to do when this priest passes on?!?!) And a birthday should not be the only day we celebrate and remember that fact, but the evil one is always trying to tell me otherwise.  

In all tombs, including the one which Lazarus laid, life stopped. Truth be told, though not physically, a part of my heart had died and I had retreated to a tomb when P left me. While it may not be today or tomorrow, the Hope I have been assured of, promised me that it will resurrect one day. Many have told me before that with time, things will get better. I may be wrong, but time doesn't make the hurt go away. It will however, teach me lessons to put my hope and joy on the giver rather than on His gifts and patience to continue to wait in awe for that something great that is waiting to happen.

As for now, allow Jesus to sit with this "Lazarus" in the tomb to weep and to pray together with. 

Dear Philip... With Love - Dad

How does one even begin to fathom what we have been through? Any parent who has lost a child will tell you their heart breaks 100%, even if they have other children.

How can we even begin to understand what suffering is? I am sure by now you would have known all the technical details about what Philip had to go through.

In suffering, there are two ways we can respond. We can always be inward looking and wallow in self-pity and despair; or we can choose to be life-giving, be outward looking and offer up our sufferings in exchange for graces for others who are hurting.

A wise priest once told Michelle and I that the strongest and most powerful prayers come from those who are hurting. Contrary to popular belief, we are not strong, like many of you claim us to be. We are just as weak, we cry uncontrollably and we often feel like we cannot carry on.
But it is when we are weakest and most helpless that we offer ourselves up to God to let him take over and direct our lives.

Instead of wallowing in self pity, we channel our energy to pray for that couple we know who are undergoing chemotherapy, that couple who have marital problems and are always quarrelling, that dear friend of ours who just had a bypass or a heart stent, that dear friend who is angry with God and doesn’t want anything to do with God anymore, our friends and family who are having some trouble with their work, their family problems or are in depression. It is not easy, but somehow it gets better when you pray for them and you know that God will make a difference in their lives.

We want to thank some people who have been on this difficult journey with us. Our dearest parents, who have been our pillars of strength to help us hold the fort at home and take care of our four kids.
Our helpers who also without complaining help to take care of the home and our children when we are away.

Philip’s godparents, Nick and Noeline and their beautiful family. We know you love him as much as we do, and pain must be like a sword that cuts through your hearts. My godson Daryl for helping me with all the behind the scene work.

Leo and Olivia who have been our pillars of emotional strength. Khay Guan, thank you for arranging all the medical stuff for me at NUH, going out of your way to connect us so that we could give Philip the best fighting chance he had. Dr Miriam, the only oncologist who believed in us. Brian and Coni, Fr JP, Fr Jude, Shawn and Petrina, Andrew and Pam and Mrs Tan, Elaine and Eugene, Le Peng and Barrie, who journeyed with us and made it a little more bearable along the way. Felicia and Terry, Daniel Ong, Kelvin and Yvonne, Mark and Noelle, our pillars of strength and dependability. Lilly and Steven and Fr Aloy for always keeping us in prayer.

Bernard and Ying, thank you for that initial conversation we had which totally changed our perspective of suffering from an inward looking one to a life-giving mentality. Your unshakable faith is the only reason we are here surviving today!

Last but not least, the very wise priest Msgr Ambrose Vaz. Thank you for listening to me and journeying with us. I reckon I still believe in God only because of what you said. It is always easy to get what you want, it takes great faith to want what you get, because God is the author of life and he has a greater plan for us all, even though we do not understand it at this moment in time.

Philip was named after the patron saint of joy, St Philip Neri. He was meant for great things, to bring joy to the people he met. I believe he had that charming effect on people and brought joy to all who interacted with him.

Philip is by far the bravest boy I’ve ever met! I have never met such a small boy who had to undergo two 5 hour surgeries, come out of it and still try his best to smile for you because he is genuinely happy to see you. His smile would melt a thousand hearts.

Today and henceforth I want you all to remember him as the happy baby whom you have met. It may be our physical loss that we can no longer hold and cuddle him, but it is for the greater good of all of you that we now have an angel in heaven who can help to convey your hurts and joys, your desires and your prayers to the Almighty one who is with Philip in heaven now.

My dearest darling boy, you did it. You beat us all to heaven. You are the best athlete I know. Now that you are with God, remember to intercede for us in our prayers. Remember to pray for your mummy and me and your siblings. Keep us on the straight and narrow path so that we will be able to be reunited again with you one day in heaven.

Meanwhile have fun exploring heaven with so many of your friends who are already there, while we on earth who have lost a child seek comfort in each other and hold on to the promise of a reunion in heaven when we eventually finish our race on earth.

Till we meet again, Philip

Two months ago, we discovered a lump in Philip's abdomen. Initially the doctors thought that it was the typical Wilm's tumor and assured us that his chance for recovery would be 98%.

Unfortunately, when they removed it, they found it to be a rare and malignant tumor called Rabdhoid Tumor. They had measured it to be 10cm long and told us then that we were looking at a 20-40% chance of success with chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

The next day they did a full body scan and found another 1cm tumor next to his brain stem. He needed to undergo another surgery two weeks later to remove that tumor but now his chance of success with chemotherapy would drop to 8% or less.

Just after 3 weeks from the second surgery, we felt another lump at his back. We went back to the Doctors and the ultrasound scan showed that the 10cm tumor which we had removed had returned and grown to 5cm. The scan also showed that the cancer has now spread to his liver. A week ago, Philip woke up coughing and wheezing in the middle of the night and we rushed him down to the hospital. They did a chest x-ray and found a 2.5cm tumor in his left lung.

I have thus far mentioned only all the bad news. Where is the Good news in all this then? For one, from now on, no one will dare to ask us if we are going to have another baby. (And yes after 5 kids, they still ask us to try for more kids.... I also don't know why)

But more importantly, the good news which I had learnt were all inspired by Philip.

After his first surgery, Philip needed to take medications orally. Not all of them tasted nice, but Philip would obediently take them whenever it is time. The teenager boy opposite him on the other hand would refuse his medication and just take them when he decides them to. Growing up makes us more independent but with that we choose to be our own God. We decide it's our time, our way and our life, we tell others that we don't need their help and with the little that we know, we put others down and refuse to listen to them.

Philip didn't. He didn't understand what was going on, but he just did what he was asked to do whether he liked it or not.

Philip did suffer the last two months. With each major surgery that he went through, he came out from the operating theatre with many tubes, needed to be suctioned at times and at many times, he needed to be poked. But when he had recovered and had felt better, he was ever ready to offer a smile even to the same nurse who had poked him not long ago.
Philip had put us adults to shame. When we had to go through something bad, we always choose to hang on to the pain. It was as if that pain was our justification to remain angry, to get another person's pity and attention and to make their lives miserable. Philip moved on, he cried when he was in pain, but he smiled too when things have improved. We, on the other hand, choose stay upset and cling on to our pains even when there was a reason to smile.

Make no mistake, Philip had really wanted to hang around and stay with us. Even at his deathbed, when his pulse slipped to 20, he had tried to climb it back to 120 twice before he gave up. Growing up screws us up real bad. We see the world with negativity and lose the meaning in life. We choose to give up and think that life can only be better if and when we go to the next world. While there was nothing wrong with heaven, Philip didn't see anything wrong being on earth. And honestly, what is so wrong and bad being here?

Philip had some difficulties peeing and pooping the last few days before his death. We were praying very hard and even encouraged him to pee at least, so that his abdomen wouldn't be so tight. Just half an hour before he died, he did it. It was as if he told God he needed to do this before he died because he needed us to know that he had heard our encouragement and more importantly God had heard our prayers.

A friend asked me recently at the wake what did I learn from the whole episode. I told her I learnt that in the past two months, faith aside, what carried me through was someone had offered us hope, like the doctor who respected and agreeable to our choice treatment. The result might have been the same but at least she helped us hope for a miracle.

Thank you sweetheart for choosing me to be your mummy. You were the gift in my life to teach me my life's mission - to give hope to someone else. Hope, faith, love and joy are very simple gifts that all of us have in us, yet because we "grew" up, we choose to downplay and devalue them.
We still feel the pain of the physical loss of Philip, but the hope that there's something to look forward to tomorrow, helps us through.

May all of you, choose to find the gifts in you and be the gift to those around you. I assure you, that's when you will find Good News.

What my baby taught me about faith

Death can hit anyone and everyone regardless of their wealth, background or believes. Yet when it hits, the ones left behind are hit by the same wave of pain, grief and loss.

Though only six months, Philip has taught me more than I had taught him.

1. Have courage to live

Philip had to undergo two major surgeries in July. One was to remove a 10cm tumour with his left kidney and another was to remove a 1cm tumour beside his brain stem.

Yet despite the ardent recovery process of suctioning, poking and having tubes in him, he continued to remain positive and smile at those around him. 

image taken from dreamquote.com

While most around us continue each day just to survive, he fought on to live. Perhaps that’s the beauty of being a baby. He did not know what the medical statistics against him were or what is going to happen and he found the courage to do what he needed to do and to do it with faith that it will be okay.

Since the beginning of time, God’s message to Adam and Eve was to not worry because there will be a future. But knowing that there is a future was not enough for them, they needed to know what is going to happen in the future.

As we grew, we became more worried about the next day rather than the day itself. Our fear of tomorrow’s unknown crippled our desire and excitement that awaits us today. 

Have more faith in God. He’s settled tomorrow so just enjoy and be present today.

2. Comfort - The true gift of prayer

image taken from
inspiremeministries.com

We had many questions during the past few months. “Why give Philip a cancer with so dismal prognosis?”, “Why was the cancer spreading so fast?” or “Why can’t Philip be cured?”. We prayed very hard each day, hoping to find answers to our questions. 

We prayed to God, Mother Mary, St. Jude, St. Charpel, St. Raphael and many others. But no answers were given. Up till now, we still do not understand why it had happened. 

But we had learnt throughout the past few months, that whilst sometimes prayers offer solutions and even answers, prayers were meant to offer comfort.

We did pray very hard daily hoping for a chance of miracle. But if you had ever wondered how we managed to go around being normal, it was not because we were great actors, it was because with prayers comes a little strength to continue to chart on for the day. 

If our God is a God of the living and the dead then the privilege of being a Catholic is we don’t just need to ask those on earth to pray for us, but those who have made it to heaven. Praying with them and along them gave us comfort that we are not abandoned by God in this difficult time and He still loves us very much.

3. Death does not need to have the last say

image taken from tango.com

Where is hope in times like these then? It remains a fact that Philip is no longer physically with us. Our hearts still ache and we are still learning to cope with this. But we still take comfort from our faith that we will meet each other again in heaven. I won’t be able to imagine how much worse I would feel, if we were taught that after he died he had reincarnated to be a cockroach or a mosquito. 

Thinking that he is now in heaven praying and watching over us with the other angels gives us consolation that one day when our time on earth is done, he will personally escort us to meet the Heavenly Father. 

We definitely would have wanted and hoped for more time with him. But 6 months of him is a bonus as well. Like many parents who have buried their children, the pain is indescribable. But we will live, because the God who was here today is already there tomorrow. 

The Small Triumph on Good Friday

It's been a longgg time since I had gone for a Good Friday's service (because it's not a day of obligation and it's really quite a longgggg service... don't judge) Especially when the kids came along, the thought of going for the service was even more unattractive.

Us at church to give thanks for
Baby Philip's first month

But ever since attending the Conversion Experience Retreat (CER) last year, both D and I thought that we really should spend some time and effort on the kids' spirituality. Since then, we would go mass during birthdays and public holidays, bring the kids to adoration room for quiet time and even go for confessions with them regularly. This year, we went one step further and brought all five kids with us for the Good Friday's service.

I was personally apprehensive because even for a normal mass they can get distracted and restless, what more a 2.5 hr service. D and I agreed that if it gets too disruptive, we would leave halfway through. We left home at 8.45am for the 9am service and even though the church was just 3 minutes car ride away, we were still late. We ended up standing at the back of the church for the whole service. Julian and Kyra did test us once a while during the service, but by and large, they were still manageable and we actually survived the whole service! *Hurrah*

Now, before you think our kids are angels and we have no problem with them during mass, they are not. Our kids still think mass is boring (we need to work harder for their salvation now), struggle to sit still through mass (to be fair it isn't all of them... I mean Philip is just sleeping) and even argue and fight with each other DURING mass (so much for world peace).
We have been given the death stares by fellow parishioners (because the kids were not quiet... I mean... why would they when they are not sleeping?), miss parts if not a huge chunk of mass before (because during that one hour, someone either "needs" to go to the toilet or someone would be crying) and even been seen dragging our kids out of mass to talk about their behavior (so much for being a cool mum).

Yes, we had good days in church, unfortunately from our track record, we have far more bad days.
As much as it would be great if the fellow parishioners were kind to us, we learn that we need to be kind to ourselves too and accept the fact that while God would be pleased if our kids were good, it would also please Him as much when we are trying to help them to behave.

One of my Sunday reflections

Through the years, D and I prepared for mass by looking through the readings before it starts as it helps us to focus and tune in to what the priest would share. In fact, we both will try to find something that speaks to us through the readings or homilies and share with each other during lunch. (Something which I find help us to grow as a couple)

But looking back, I realised that going to mass is not the same as taking a plane. Don't be too preoccupied and worried if your child will be bored or restless in church. (They will be regardless with the toys or not)
Our responsibility isn't to entertain them in mass (they won't be even if you did) neither is it to make sure they understood what the priest is saying (they don't because chances are you won't too). In fact, despite going to mass regularly, our kids would rather stay home and rot than go to church.
Going mass as a family is really more for D and I than for them, for us to sustain through the week (and really not to kill our kids with every test they put us through) and be reminded time and again that God loves us.

Truth be told, we can't be sure if our kids love God. We aren't even sure if they know who is God. So with each mass we attend as a family, we really are like match making them with a Being based on our experience we have with Him. But the greatest comfort of this blind dating is that because our kids love us, they are always willing to give this Being a chance every time we go to Church.

Some of my friends have commented before that they can imagine how tough it would be going to mass with 5 kids, because they are dying with their 2 kids. But they don't realise that it is equally tough for that family bringing an elderly in wheelchair for mass, or that parent dealing with his only child who has ADHD, or even that lost soul who is trying to soften his heart to come back to church.
They don't realize that it is because we see these faces in church, we are in turn encouraged and
inspired to not give up trying. And while it seems that our fellow parishioners may be frowning on our kids' behavior, we forget that we also may be a source of encouragement and inspiration for someone else.

The evil one is always hard at work especially when we try to please God. So if it's not easy for you to do the right thing, be consoled that you are doing things right.
Just take one mass at a time. If this mass was trying, the next one will be better. :)

Image from stpeterslist.com

Yikes! Change is about to happen!

Just one more sleep and what I am used to for the past 3 years will all be changed. Like many, I'd always thought that since I've been through it so many times, everything would be under control and honestly this would be child's play for me. After all, the whole process remains the same - wake up early, go for breakfast, relax a little, check into hospital, prep for surgery and get heavily sedated and when I wake up in 1hrs time, I get myself a new baby. (Like honestly, how complicated can life be? *tsk*)

But strangely, I'm not sure if I can say I was most confident this time. It could be the fear for the post surgery recovery, because I know how painful it can be. Or maybe I was from 2 helpers to down with no helper at all until yesterday when the replacement helper came and hopefully the other one comes back later today (yes on the day when I deliver). It could be also because just a few days ago I was down with flu and am probably still struggling with a little stomach flu. Or it could be maybe from the anxiety that my youngest girl will no more be the baby of the family already and I'm pushing her to grow up to be a sister (yes I still get the guilty feeling even after so many kids!). Or that maybe the mister is down with flu STILL (and that's how I fall sick) and on the night before I deliver I'm spending some time alone doing my reflection, rather than a movie night and quiet time with the mister.

Yup... as you can see things haven't been going as planned. And the irony? This pregnancy is the one which I had prayed the hardest, go church more often and had a lot more people praying for me than the other pregnancies. Should I not have prayed? Could it be an easier and smoother journey? Shouldn't prayer help in easing one's fear? What went wrong?

Unfortunately, truth of the matter is, just because I prayed harder it didn't mean that I had the trump card of being God and get to do things according to my plan or my choice. The Evil one would use every opportunity to tell and tempt me to be angry with God and to stop praying cuz obviously it hasn't been providing much consolation or so it seems. The Holy Spirit on the other hand continues to ask me to be patient and tells me it's not about me but to be faithful and just say Yes to being loved and carried by God.

Back at Home...

Feeling so overwhelmed, I actually went to the adoration room after dinner yesterday and just sat in front of the Holy Eucharist to pour out all my anxieties and somehow started to cry. (hormones maybe) I didn't realize one can be so close to God and yet so fearful at the same time. But the best thing about crying is that God knows too that I've reached my limit and He will take over from here since there is no more resistance from me to try to be in control and stay in charge. The Evil one also knows that there's no point in trying to be around because the harder he tries to be funny, the harder I will pray and that's really not what he wants too.

God's peace comes after every storm and it strangely doesn't need to make any grand entrance. Truth be told, God was present throughout the whole pregnancy. Like how my helper situation could be a mess but at least He sent me a great replacement which seems to be able to hold the fort for the time being, plus my mum was around to help me here and there with the kids so I could rest and nurse my flu. I may not have gotten many things my way, but because of this, many have used this as a reason to pray and found inspiration to be close to Him. To help with post surgery recovery, He's blessed me with a masseur who is able to come right after my surgery to help me feel better faster. And because He knows I've been anxious, He's been getting many guardian angels to send me personal love messages and prayers along the way to cheer me up and encourage me.

And even though I pray that He could give me a miraculously painless birth, I forget that the more I look at myself, the more I forget that He is the same God that managed to feed thousands with just 5 loaves and 2 fishes, heal the blind and sick and even raise the dead... He IS so mighty and all I could do was just to limit Him to my fears and plans. If God had really been given the control of my life, how much greater can it be? The opposite of fear is not exactly courage, it's just stop saying No to God.

Trust me, it's not a bad feeling. And so I say to you.... Peace be with You. :)

Disciplining with Faith

In my social media posts, I tend to pick the happier pictures of the family... because
1. it's social media (and it's 90% fake news or at least it only shows a glimpse of what happens 10% of the day) and
2. who even has the mood to pose and take photos when things are bad *tsk*

One of our favorite activities together

Yet amidst the laughter, we have our struggles with our kids. The toughest part of parenting for me, isn't the pregnancy, recovery and breastfeeding (I speak from experience), sitting down and studying with them (it's still painful though), dealing with their tantrums in public (thank God for thick skin) or even dealing with the different styles of raising your kids with your spouse or in laws (no explanation needed). The worse for me is really when one needs to exert discernment in discipling.

You see, disciplining can result in many things... you can have really great outcomes where they listen to you (and we all live happily ever after), when they don't agree with you and defy you (and you don't know what goes on inside their minds) or when you are not even confident if you did the right thing even. So as you can see the majority of disciplining (for me) ends with something... negative, which means chances are after a disciplining session, I might
(a) lose my temper
(b) end up with at least 1 angry kid
(c) end up in tears at night wondering if I could have done things differently

Yesterday was one of the days when I was tested again. We had pledged $12 to a friend's kid's school fundraising campaign the day before which the mister had passed to Julian to place in the donation envelope, but the parents went home that night and told us that they only had the $2 and according to their daughter, Julz had taken $10 and kept it. Knowing how much he's fascinated by money, it is possible that it happened.

Last night, D was out for class and I was home alone with the kids. I asked Julz about the $10 and he told me that he had given to the girl that day and wasn't sure what happened to it subsequently.  After checking with my other kids, they all said the same version and he didn't play with it later. Since the $10 was missing in my house, it's obvious it had to be somewhere at home. Got everyone to look for it, but it was in vain.

I checked with my friend if his daughter could remember where she might last saw it, but no one could (sign that $10 nowadays isn't a big thing). My dear friends, would you trust your child or would you trust otherwise given the lack of evidence?

I made the painful decision of forfeiting $10 from Julz piggy bank. (Remember, this child of mine loves money). Julian cried, not because I asked him to bring down his piggy bank, but because I scolded him. I know this boy of mine isn't the best behaved kid amongst the 4 but when he is wrongly accused, that's his normal reaction. And my mother's instinct told me that (thankfully) he didn't take the money. But I wanted him to know that he needed to pay the price of not doing his job properly. Julian saves $2 each day because he doesn't believe in spending too much in school and he enjoys seeing his money grow, so $10 was probably a big thing for him. When he took the money out and passed me, my heart ached. I was holding back my tears and tried to look away so he won't see any trace of my eyes being wet.

The apology note he wrote

I explained to him that while it may not have been his fault entirely, it was because of his irresponsibility and oversight that got him into this. I think he understood it and a part of me was glad he could be detached enough to let go of his $10 for this.

We sat down that night and I got him to write a note too to the couple friends, because he was rude to them and since he was receptive, why not?
We ended with a hug and a kiss and said the night prayers with the rest of the other kids.

When the mister got home, he told me he would have waived the $10 but I disagreed. My argument is that, unlike God, we cannot be around all the time to get him out of situations like these. But we did agree to reimburse him on a later date on a separate occasion.

Everything seemed fine, but I went to bed with a heavy heart. If it was the right thing to do, why would my heart feel the ache? Parenting is never for the weak hearted and our views and decisions made can never be perfect, but as a catholic, the only consolation is I can always turn to the Perfect one who probably has tonnes of experience coping with disciplining... from afar.

A priest friend once told me that God has by far the greatest experience of dealing with children who defy and walk away from Him. He has also felt the greatest pain of sending His innocent child to die on the cross for the greatest sinner amongst us... (Think Hitler and whoever). But I suppose I'm luckier than Him since I can physically hug and kiss my child and remind him I still love him and not leave it to "faith".

You may not agree with how I handled it, and I don't claim to be an expert on disciplining kids even though I have 4 (and soon 5).

I shared before in my social media post that one of the blessings of having kids is the fact I'm seen more on bended knees before the cross, became more humble and more human. The best thing I could do last night was to go to bed, and pray that even if I didn't get the gift of wisdom, I hoped that my kids got the gift of understanding...

I hope God answered that. :)