William Wan on Parenthood.

Let me start with this: -

“Ultimately, marriage and parenthood are personal decisions, shaped by the values that each person holds dear. But they are also influenced in no small part by social norms, our families, employers and wider society.”

Those were the words of Minister of Manpower Josephine Teo. And William Wan borrowed it for his own article this morning, “Having 3 kids despite disincentives.”

Josephine was right about one word in that quote, “ultimately”. And William endorsed it by saying, “She got that right. If the past is an indication of the future, increasing Singapore’s birth rate takes more than just money.”

Money no doubt plays a major role considering how newly wed have to navigate the formidable landscape of debt-financed housing and keeping up with the household expenses in a society with one of the highest cost of living, career development in a world of intense competition, and raising children in a system that is fiercely meritocratic, where the mortal fear is for one’s child to be left behind.

But, as apparent in the above paragraph, the way our society is organised together with how the market economy drives the people towards maintaining that coveted 1st World status all plays a significant part in a couple’s decision to start or not start a family. 

Sometimes, the will to start a family is made more complicated in a world where one always fears how his or her children are going to turn up in a society that is so deeply divided by income, class and status, that is, a world of innumerable invisible walls. 

Anyway, going back to the article, William married in 1970, just fresh out of law school. He said he hesitated about having children because he “was pessimistic about the world and did not want (his) children to blame (them) for bringing them into a troubled world.”

Nevertheless, after a moment of personal enlightenment, William and his wife went on to have three children (2 daughters and one son) and they themselves have children of their own. His grandkids are doing well, completing their tertiary education. His son married late and is now the father of one-year-old.

Reading his article, what captured my attention was what he wrote about one of his daughters. 

This is best described in his own words. 

“One of our daughters made a grave mistake in life, fell into the zombie world of drugs, and was pregnant before marriage. She was only 19 but did not choose abortion. We are proud of her pro-life values. Her baby is now an adult who has just graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering.”

“Watching our daughter overcome her challenges as a single mother, we learnt so much about how a baby saved her life. It transformed her from an irresponsible wild teenager into a mature, loving and caring mother who chose to exercise selfless love for her unborn child.”

Lesson? If you missed it, the endearing and empowering words are “how a baby saved her life”. 

I always believe that a non-life cannot sustain another life. Your possessions and titles can only take you so far. Sooner or later, the ambition and drive are spent, because what are they worth anyway if you have no one you love to spend them with? 

Or worse, you spend your life acquiring them at the expense of those you love. 

At the end of the day, our possessions are benchmarked not against other possessions. That is a bottomless pit of carnal desires, for much will always want more. Mind you, it is never about the empire of things. 

It is on the contrary benchmarked against how a life is transformed by them. Our possessions are a means to an end. Not an empire of things, but a means to the building of relationships. 

Ultimately, up to a point, the richest man or woman I know is one who knows when enough is enough. True wealth thus comes not from anything tangible, that is, external to you. It comes from within, an intangible reassurance that keeps turning your focus to what truly matters in life. 

And for that, I believe it takes a life to minister to a life. 

There is much truth in how your child can save you, that is, how he or she can transform you. Or how they can make a difference in your life. 

William reminded me that “birth and conception and child-rearing are messy and challenging, each in their own way.”

Indeed, messy they are. In a society of stereotypical judgments and pretentious lifestyles, how would they have taken to the reality of a wayward child, pregnant at 19, involved in drugs, and then deciding to keep the child, nurture the child and bring the child up with unconditional love? 

As these words make explicit such love, “it transformed her from an irresponsible wild teenager into a mature, loving and caring mother who chose to exercise selfless love for her unborn child.”

Alas, the redeeming value of being a parent is that your love for them demonstrates how you can in turn love yourself. As you watch them grow up, under your care, persevering together, you also catch a glimpse of your self growing in tandem with them. 

They may look to us as their safe harbour when the storm outside rages on, and we will always be there for them. Yet, they might not fully know this, but as their parents, they are our firm anchor to keep us grounded, and also our guiding light to steer us home through the dark nights of our soul. 

Let me end with William’s words about the joy of parenthood. 

“The joy of contributing to their life's journey is indescribable. They matured into young women and men with their own unique personalities soon enough. Watching them play out their strength, courage, and passion undergirded with kindness, love and respect for others as adults today is priceless.”

“Soon enough” is what we as parents must never forget, and never lose faith and hope. Even a plant however small grows when you water and sun it faithfully. Alas, what’s more a life built on the foundation of love.

Tiananmen Mothers.

Tiananmen mothers. They hold up pictures of their sons and husbands shot, lost and buried in unmarked graves in the 4th June 1989 Tiananmen protest. 

Everyone of them has a story to tell. They do not want to be forgotten. They are determined to hold those in power who have taken the lives of their loved ones to account.

For Madam Zhang Xianling, her 19-year-old son was shot and killed in the wee hours of June 4. On that day, soldiers were called in to fire at student protestors who were clamouring for democracy in a country tightly controlled by the communist party. 

Together with another grieving mother, philosophy professor Ding Zilin, they formed a support group called Tiananmen Mothers.

Mdm Zhang said that she and others (since that day) have been harassed and intimidated by the Chinese authorities. 

Tan Dawn Wei reports about their stories this morning, and this is what Mdm Zhang, a former aerospace engineer said: -

“Every time this year, we all feel terribly sad. Who wouldn’t be if their loved one died in such an unexplainable manner? The 30th anniversary this year isn’t more sad than any other year.” 

Up to this day, Mdm Zhang is not allowed to visit the site where her son was killed. She in fact waited ten days before news of her son’s death made it to her. 

At that time, Wang Nan only wanted to record history as an aspiring photojournalist when he was shot at Chang’an Avenue. 

Dawn Wei reports that “(to date) as many as 55 members of Tiananmen Mothers have died, including a father who took his own life at age of 73 when he found the government’s silence on the matter too hard to bear. The majority of the remaining 127 members are well into their 70s and 80s.”

For Mdm You Weijie, who took over the group in 2013, she shared a common grief with them. She lost her husband, ”a patent law clerk, on that fateful night when he cycled to Tiananmen Square after hearing gunshots. He was worried about he students and had wanted to check on them. He was shot and died in hospital two days later. 

A New York-based non-governmental Organisation Human Rights In China communication director Tsui Mi Ling said: -

“We see the Chinese Communist Party’s strategy having three components - control the narrative of what happened, suppress the truth and silence the voices that point to the truth, forcibly wipe it out from memory.”

Lesson? Mm...

I can write about many issues here. About democracy. About governance. About economic growth. About lost hope. About a much celebrated, rich and strong state, that China has become. 

About how everyone, every nation can’t wait to be a partaker of her phenomenon economic growth or jump into her glittering bandwagon paved by the Belt and Road Initiative. 

Like a senior partner of Control Risks, Mr Dane Chamorro said: “Sustainable one-party states sometimes listen better to the silent majority and not just to vested interest groups.” 

I could almost hear the ”silent majority” he spoke about as the “silenced majority”.

I can write about that too, that is, the silenced majority. But let me write about that ten days that Mdm Zhang waited for news about her beloved 19-year-old, Wang Nan. 

I can imagine it was a long ten days. Imagine you are desperately waiting for your son’s whereabouts after hearing scary stories of students being shot by your own government. 

Imagine the first day of worry for Mdm Zhang. Images of her beloved son must have flooded her mind. The second and third days are where one’s imagination goes wild, waiting in vain for news, haunted by the fear that you might never see him again. 

The fourth to sixth days are torments both of the mind, heart and soul. You can’t eat. You can’t sleep. You can think of nothing but his safety. You can only hope for his safe return. Your boy has never left you for that long in his 19 years of living. 

Then comes the seventh to ninth day. Something inside of you seems to die a little but you still hold on to that umbilical cord of hope that your son will return to you. 

You can’t wait for him to walk right through, smiling and hugging you. That touch would heal all wounds, you are willing to trade everything just for that smile. 

On the tenth day, you hear the news. Your son is one of the casualties. He was branded as a protestor. He’s the enemy of the state. You break down and cry. You cannot believe that such a young life, full of dreams and hopes, is now buried in an unmarked grave.

Your son died alone. He died not knowing why. He died because of an obsession for power, and an even more delusional obsession of losing it. 

It is said that “every society honours its live conformists and its dead troublemakers”. But this does not even apply to Wang Nan because he is one memory the state tries in desperation to forget. 

But you can’t forget. He is your son after all. That will never change. The memory of a mother is what she will take with her to her grave. 

Mdm Zhang said: “Sooner or later, the Chinese government will address the atrocities of June 4. But whether I will see that day, I can’t say. We will fight to the end.”

Incidentally, in the recent Shangri-la Dialogue in Singapore, Defence Minister Wei Fenghe said that the 1989 clampdown was “a correct decision” pointing to the stability and prosperity China has gained since then. 

He said: “Throughout the 30 years, China under the Communist Party, has undergone many changes. Do you think the government was wrong in the handling of June 4? There was a conclusion to the incident. The government was decisive in stopping the turbulence.”

Alas, I guess the end justifies the means, whatever it takes. And if the soul of leadership is to leave no one behind, to care for those society has forgotten, and to restore brokenness and pain, healing the wounds of past mistakes, then sadly, the Tiananmen Mothers will have to wait longer for the spirit of their sons and husbands to find rest and justice.

Let me end with a commemorative letter read out in March this year, addressed to the Chinese Communist Party. 

“You have been promoting the 'Chinese Dream'. As Chinese citizens and your compatriots, we too have dreams... We dream that one day, the nation can restore the name of the June 4 martyrs and rectify the reputation of the 1989 patriotic democracy movement.”

Vera and her amazing parents.

You can find meaning anywhere, in any life, if you choose to never give up. That’s the main lesson for me this morning. Read on to know why...

This lesson is bundled up for me in the life of Vera and her amazing parents who never gave up. 

Senior Writer Wong Kim Hoh wrote the story simply entitled “Her daughter’s every birthday is a triumph” and I read it with a clearer, sharper sense of what life ultimately means in the larger scheme of things.

Vera is 10 years old today, but when she was born, it was not a day of celebration, but one of confounding silence.

Vera’s mother, Ms Tham Yin May, recalled: “Giving birth is supposed to be a happy time but we were talking about death. It became the worst time of my life.”

Why death? Because doctors confirmed that baby Vera had an error in cell division on Chromosome 18. In layman's langauge, she had three copies of Chromosome 18 instead of the usual two.

In other words, Vera was born with Trisomy 18 and that additional division made all the difference medically and physically for her. It also changed the fate of her family.

FYI, “a Trisomy 18 error occurs in one out of every 2,500 pregnancies...and only 50 per cent of such babies carried to term will be born alive.” The risk of a stillborn birth is relatively high for such a condition.

Although Vera beat the odds, she was however born with “a lateral cleft palate and defects of the brain, heart, stomach, airway, spine, ears, fingers and feet.”

Doctors also told them the grim road map ahead caring for Vera. They listed 150 complications associated with Vera’s condition and most babies will not live beyond two years old.

Ms Tham recalled that she asked “what is the best case scenario was” and the reply? “They told us to take her home and enjoy our time with her."

Presently, Vera “wears pink-frame glasses and has a shock of black hair. She cannot talk, walk or swallow, and has to be fed through an opening in her stomach. She cannot see, hear or breathe well either. She can only move her left hand, often reaching out for a reassuring touch from her mother.”

Taking care of Vera is an “arduous and perilous” journey for Ms Tham and her husband.

Ms Tham said that they “almost lost her to a debilitating lung infection but she clawed her way back.”

And two years ago, the “developmental progress Vera made - including moving her legs vigorously and babbling - was lost...when she caught a respiratory syncytial infection that compromises the immune system and leads to breathing difficulties.”

Yet, Ms Tham and her husband never gave up.

Notwithstanding the average of “one long period of hospitalisation”, the breathing issues, the physical handicap, the serious developmental issues, the feeding tube, Ms Tham (who has a blog at http://mylittlevera.blogspot.sg) wrote these inspiring thoughts: -

“(Vera) was lots of joy. She would show that she knew we were trying to connect with her. I’ll never stop communicating with her like a normal child even if she doesn’t understand me. I’m her mummy even if she doesn’t know I’m her mummy. Ours is a bond beyond words.”

Lesson? Three.

My first lesson is how love can make the difference. Contrary to the saying that love is blind, when love is put to the test, it is anything but blind.

In fact, love has a vision that sees beyond the here-and-now to the triumphant and purposeful journey of all trials.

Where normal sight sees only defeat, love sees overcoming. Where normal sight sees only darkness, love sees light, a lone penetrating beam. And where normal sight sees only despondency, the death of hope, love sees otherwise. It sees life, the rise of hope.

Before her marriage, Ms Tham had “a great love for music, one which captured her to enter, and win, many singing and songwriting competitions.”

Journalist Wong wrote that “caring for Vera has taken Ms Tham back to music.” She has written a few songs for Vera.

She said: “I believe Vera hung on for a purpose. Hopefully, these songs about her journey will inspire others. I want to be her voice. I want people to know that children like Vera love and deserve love too.”

Ms Tham is giving most of the proceeds from the songs she has written to the Rare Disorder Society of Singapore, where she met other inspiring families with special children.

My second lesson is in the name.

Ms Tham chose the name Vera because “Vera comes from the (Latin) word “verus” which means true.” And she said that Vera has shown her what is true in life.

I too always wonder the exact same thing: “What is true in life?”

When the truth about Vera’s condition sunk in, Ms Tham had to “grapple with the shock”. She said: “I was breaking down and crying a lot. My husband said: “There will be time to cry when she’s gone.””

She said that her husband’s words “jolted her” and thereafter, they decided to “take it one day at a time and get her to the one-year mark.”

Alas, most times, the truth in life is standing before us and we often miss it.

There is in fact a saying that “men occasionally stumble upon the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.”

For me, there is no greater truth in life than to live our present to the fullest and make everyday counts. My wish to myself and others has always been this: “May we all live everyday of our life.”

This morning, I have learned that Vera’s journey was a long and hard one and her parents’ undying love kept every step they took alive with unwavering hope and meaning.

Recently, they celebrated Vera’s 10th birthday, and Ms Tham said: “She has surpassed all expectations. Every year now is a bonus; we cherish every moment with her.”

Now, my friends, that's what is true in life, that is, a life that not only never give up, but one that loves so unconditionally, so courageously and so compellingly.

My last lesson is shepherd-led by the words of Ms Tham, which moved me deeply: -

“I’ve realised life happens in opposites. The worst diagnosis can be the best outcome. In her weakness, Vera has shown so much strength. In her silence, she speaks volumes of her love. She has only one arm that’s active, but she uses it daily to hug us. With each bonus day of her life, she reminds me to live purposefully.”

Personally, I just can't add anything to that without first asking myself, "What is my problem? What is my complaint?" 

In my weakness, what do I look for? Do I see strength rising even more to meet it? In times of silent self-doubt, what preoccupies me? Do I count my blessings or mourn over my inadequacy or lack? And with two working arms, both equally active, do I use them to build up, touch lives, encourage souls, make a difference, or do I use them to tear myself and others down? 

Alas, do I treasure each day of my life as a bonus and allow it to inspire others to live purposefully? What then do I represent to myself and others, my loved ones, my friends? What story have I written to live each day with purpose? 

And if Vera and her parents and all those around her who love ceaselessly are grateful for each day of life given to them, what excuses do I have to not live mine in that same uncompromising and empowering way? 

Thanks Vera, I may not know you, but in your silence, in your fight for life, you have shown me that the greatest blessing in life is not wealth, fame or power, but the privilege to live everyday of my life. Cheerz. 

A father's timeless love.

On her 16th birthday, Ms Bailey Sellers, the youngest of four siblings, noticed something wrong with her father. It was the Christmas of 2012 and he slept through for most of his favourite day of the year. 

Bailey's father was later diagnosed to have stage 4 pancreatic cancer. He was 55 years old at that time.

After that devastating news, Bailey dropped out of high school, and took care of her father full time. When the load became too heavy, her mother too stayed home to take care of him. 

However, a year later, Michael Sellers passed away when Bailey was only 16 (turning 17 that year). But that was not the end of their father-daughter's bond.

A few months after her father's passing, on Bailey's 17th birthday, she received a special gift. It's from her father. It's his posthumous love gift for her, that is, it came in a bouquet of flower and a note that reads:-

"Happy birthday. You'll receive these until you're 21. Love, Dad."

Apparently, Michael had before his demise set up an arrangement with a flower delivery service to send his daughter a bouquet and a note every birthday until she is 21.

Sharing about these loving annual deliveries, Bailey said: "Everyone knows I hate my birthday. I don't want to celebrate it. It's just a reminder he's not there anymore. And at the same time, I can't wait because I get those flowers."

The truth is that Bailey didn't want her 21st birthday to come because, as promised, that will be her father's last love gift to her. 

But when it came last Friday, which was two days before her 21st birthday, she "brought the flowers inside and couldn't make it through a sentence of the note before she lost it." 

It reports that "while the previous years' flowers usually had short greetings, this time a handwritten note with butterfly stickers was attached. Her mother read the rest of the letter, with the whole family crying."

Here is what Bailey's father wrote:-

"This is my last love letter to you until we meet again. I do not want you to shed another tear for me my baby girl for I am in a better place. You are and will always be the most precious jewel I was given. It is your 21st birthday and I want you to always respect your momma and stay true to yourself. Be happy and live life to the fullest. I will still be with you through every milestone, just look around and there I will be. I love you Boo Boo and Happy Birthday!!! Daddy."

Lesson? Erm...full disclosure? 

I actually cried this morning when I read that letter. Being a father of three, with two young daughters, I shed silent tears. 

They said grown, adult men don't cry. I somehow believe that. 

You see, if you protect your heart from the hurts of love, wrap it up airtight from the wounds of devotion, and lock it away somewhere where the pain of fatherly sacrifice cannot touch it, you have no reason to shed any tears. Your heart is well insulated.

But alas. a father's heart is not that fortunate to be so protected, wrapped up and locked away. 

Every morning, the privilege of being a father is that you get to see the sleeping, peaceful faces of your children. 

You get to be there for all their milestones in life. You get to share their disappointments, growth, tears and joys, and they yours. 

At the end of the day, you get to watch them sleep with that same reassuring peace they started with in the morning under your care, nurture and love. 

The relationship between a father and his child cuts deep into the father's heart. In fact, they are so connected by a spiritual bond that one's pain is felt a thousand times by another. For fathers, you dread the day you walk her down the aisle and give her away. 

So, I know viscerally and intimately where Michael is coming from and how his heart must have ached so much penning those words to Bailey, and also every greeting card he wrote to her until his baby's 21st birthday. 

I feel that Michael's message from a place of eternal rest is so applicable to me. It is so heartwarming for me. 

It speaks about a love that never dies. It lives on with such undying devotion. It is eternal. This father's heart will go on for a lifetime even if Michael is not around for all of Bailey's birthdays. 

It is the same message I want my daughters (and son) to know. 

I would want her to respect her mother cos she is the first love of my life, and a love that transformed me for good. My heart would never be strong and resilient without hers beating in mine. 

And I would also want my daughter to stay true to herself. Don't pretend to be what you are not my dearest. You don't need to prove to others or get their approval. 

I want my daughter to know that she is always my angel, the precious jewel God has given, and I will always love her because this love cannot be shaken by circumstances external to us. 

In fact, the circumstances, however intimidating, are there as building blocks to strengthen our love even more, and not break or threaten the bond.

And I wish that she will always be happy and live life to the fullest. 

In this world, it takes so little to be happy. We tend to forget that. We run around empty looking for it when the truth is that happiness has never left us. 

It is in fact in the touch of another, the sweet words of encouragement, the embrace of passion, the joy of a walk together on an ordinary day, and the growth we build up through overcoming in hope, faith and love.

Mind you, not one of those things I have written about require any herculean effort on a father's part to achieve, or at all. He doesn't need to build up his career or cash balances for most of his lifetime to buy them. They are free, priceless and forever. They are readily expressible.

In other words, they are simple acts, deeply felt, and quietly transforming. They are eternal too. 

In any event, what is a lifetime to a father anyway. It may just come sooner than he could ever wish against. 

Lastly, of all the above, my daughter needs to know this: "I will still be with you through every milestone, just look around and there I will be."

Indeed, fathers have never left. We are always there. The memories we form with our child can never be extinguished. A father's love stays with his children for their lifetime. It watches over them and his heart still aches when their hearts ache, and leaps for joy when theirs leap.

But whatever happens, the greatest gift of fatherhood is that we hold our baby's heart in our hands when we first carry them in our arms. 

From thereon, our hearts are already intertwined, joined as one. It's unbreakable, inseparable. And it is an overcoming love that lasts forever. Cheerz.