Dear Friend,

One of the lessons I've learned is that honesty and openess pave the way for God to reveal his kindness to us. Vulnerability invites others to share our sorrows and deepen our relationships. It's ironic that it's not the good times but the bad that strengthens bonds.

Had she survived her birth, Anabelle would have had to undergo 3 major surgeries within the first few months of her life. We can only imagine what our life and hers would have been like. Sitting on this side of things, I would trade almost anything to have her - even with all the challenges.

Whatever you're feeling or questioning, it's normal. Have a lot of grace for yourself. The unthinkable has happened. You're going to be in shock for a while.

Lily still prays for the moms who are pregnant to have healthy babies. She has a special place in her heart for babies and prays for the sick and poor every night. I never thought I would be in this place where I am now, sharing the things with you that I am. All the credit goes to God. In the midst of our tragedy, he showered us with kindness through our family, friends, neighbors, even strangers. Our suffering taught us how to praise God even when times are bad. Actually, things went from bad to worse. After Anabelle died, my grandmothers had a heart-attack and 4 strokes, I was in a car accident, and all work dried up for Dave and me (we were self-employed). Honestly, I just wanted to die. The burden was too great. I don't even know how we survived. We were on our knees, face downcast, crying and praying. I clung even tighter to those two scriptures from Psalms. And God did deliver us from our troubles. He does save those who are crushed in spirit.

We are by no means worry-free. We have the same troubles most American families are facing during these difficult times. And we still have to pray and cry and depend on God. We don't always make the right choices. We don't always pray. I get angry and disgruntled. I sometimes feel, "why me." But then I always remember that mine is not the worst situation. There is so much suffering going on around the world and I have to pray to make a difference. There is so much more to this short life.

Keep in mind, it's been two years since my baby died. I'm still grieving. Many tears are still shed. I am still learning the lessons. The pain hasn't stopped. It's still deep. But, I don't feel as though I will shatter into a million pieces. That's progress, right?

Blessings to your family.
Chris

A close friend has put me in contact with a mother who is grieving the death of her 3 month old son. My heart breaks for their terrible loss. Writing to her, has allowed me to comfort her. It's healing to be able to do that. Following is my letter to her.

Dear Friend,

In response to your request about what helped me to grieve and heal, there are so many different things. Each situation is unique and different things will be helpful to you and your family. My only suggestion is open your heart to wherever God wants to lead you. For me, that meant sometimes just sitting silent, with my eyes closed and hands in an open position, receiving God's grace and whatever else he had for me. I believe it was during those times that the Holy Spirit intervened for me with prayers and petitions that I didn't know how to
express.

Anabelle died during labor almost 2 years ago. My placenta abrupted before she was born. Even though I delivered her 45 minutes after my water broke, we don't know how long she was deprived of oxygen. The pain and grief we went through was overwhelming. I didn't know how I would survive her death. Our oldest, Lily, was 4 1/2 yrs. old at the time and she suffered the loss as well. She had been praying for a baby sister for 2 years. She was just heart-broken. There were many tears. We didn't hide our grief from Lily but allowed her to openly express her grief, too. We still talk about Anabelle and we still miss her tremendously. It's comforting to know that she's in heaven, but it would have been wonderful to know her here on earth.

"Empty Cradle, Broken Heart" by Deborah Davis was helpful. OurBradley instructor gave the book to me and I found it very helpful. Also, I clung to these two Pslams, especially the verses listed below.

Psalm 31 & 34

Psalm 31:14-15
But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, "You are my God."
My times are in your hand;

Psalm 34:17-18
When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears and delivers them out
of all their troubles.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.

Honestly, I prayed alot, cried even more and blogged or wrote in my journal when I could. I was surrounded by wonderful friends who were a safe haven for me to talk about what I was going through as much as I needed to. Or to not talk about it.

Another baby will never replace the one you lost, just as your love for your other children cannot replace your love for him.

At the time, I did not think I wanted any more children. I couldn't bear the thought. I was too afraid of losing another baby. My sister didn't comment either way about whether or not we should have more children, she just encouraged us to make decisions out of love and not
fear. My best friend also encouraged us to reach out for joy in whatever way God was giving it to us. Almost a year later, I was pregnant with Kate. She has been such a joy and a blessing to our family. We love her deeply but she will never replace Anabelle. We still talk about Anabelle. Lily and I imagine what she must be doing in heaven. She would have been two so maybe she is two in heaven.

I am so sorry for your loss. Your family is in my prayers. If you need to talk please know that I'm here.

Love,
Chris

Almost a year after losing our sweet Anabelle, I unexpectedly found myself pregnant. I say unexpectedly because we had been trying to get pregnant and discovered that I had not been ovulating for months. So, we grieved that lost dream but never gave up hope that God had more in store for us, even if it wasn't the plan we expected. With faith, Dave and I made the decision to live our lives with grace and dignity and be open to whatever path God would set in front of us.

We were thrilled and scared about this welcomed surprise. As the days, weeks and months progressed, our excitement mounted. At 28 weeks, we had a level II ultrasound and were delighted to find out that we were expecting another girl! Tears of joy streamed down my face as the doctor examined the baby's heart, stomach, intestines, lungs, even her little mouth was viewable. She looked perfect and healthy in every way. We left the doctor's office elated, tearful and full of gratitude.

At last, the morning of September 15th rolled around. I had been having contractions off and on for almost a month and wasn't sure if "today was the day." I was ten days past my "due date." Starting at 7am, my contractions started getting longer, stronger and closer together. Around 9am, after speaking to me briefly on the phone, Dave concluded that today was indeed the day. He came home and took charge as I was feeling very indecisive. He called the doctor's office to inform them of my situation and alert them that we were headed to the hospital. With Lily in tow and Kathleen and my Mom on the way, we headed to the hospital.

Stephanie, one of my midwives was on call that day and was prepared for our arrival. By 10am I was gowned and examined and found to be 100% effaced, 6cm dilated and +2 station. Fetal monitors were placed on me and I tried to rest between contractions. Dave was a great coach and he talked me through my contractions. I could focus on his voice, calm, reassuring and strong. I couldn't have done it without him.

Lying on my side, it was difficult to find a comfortable position and contractions started coming one right on top of the other. It wasn't long before I started pushing. Laboring on my side was not part of my plan but once I was down, it was near impossible to get motivated to move. I pushed in this position for about an hour. The baby was still in the posterior position and at the suggestion of my midwife, I somehow found the energy to get on my hands and knees in hopes of rotating the baby. Another hour or more passed with heavy contractions and lots of pushing but still no baby. Finally, around the three hour mark, my midwife suggested that I get up and try to empty my bladder. I wasn't sure how, short of a crane, I was going to get off the bed and walk to the bathroom, but with Dave grabbing one arm and Kathleen, the other, they basically carried me to the bathroom. Every few steps, I squatted and pushed with the contractions. I labored on the toilet for a little while but my legs were feeling numb so I headed back to bed, again squatting every few steps until I made it back to the end of the bed, where I stayed for a little while, squatting and pushing.

I somehow managed to climb back into bed and was in a semi-reclined position. I recall Stephanie asking me to breathe through some of the contractions at the end and not push in order to allow the tissue to stretch. The walking and squatting encouraged Kate to finally rotate into position and shortly thereafter, I pushed her out - all 9lbs. 4oz. and 20 1/2 inches of glorious baby!!

She nursed right away with a strong and vigorous latch. There was not a dry eye in the room as we welcomed the newest member of our family. I am still amazed at how big she is and that I actually birthed her without drugs and without interventions. Miraculously, I only needed a few stitches at the end. I absolutely attribute it all to my Bradley training, prenatal yoga and all the tailor sitting/squatting I did throughout my pregnancy. It was the hardest work I've ever done in my entire life and Kate was worth every second.

Knots, Knots, Everywhere Knots!

I have noticed an interesting behavior exhibited by my almost 6 year old. Actually, this is not a new development. She has been fascinated with tying knots for as long as I can remember. Shoe laces, scarves, tights, ribbon, any string dangling from any toy is tied together to form long ropes. These ropes are draped across her doll house as decoration. She uses them to tie her strollers together and hitches them to her bicycle to form a caravan across the living room. Her toy box is filled with various strips of anything tied together in knots!

What is the fascination? And why, oh why, am I impulsively drawn to untie them?

Mind-Numbing Work

Lily is so articulate, intelligent and loving. She is fun to be around and has a great imagination. She is like a sponge, soaking up all the education that the fine state of California has to offer (*sigh*) and she is reading like it's going out of style!

That being said, I was shocked to discover how mind-numbing it can be to help her write. Of course, the end result of her short stories are witty, humorous stories of heroism and adventure, but the path to her greatness is sounded out - o-n-e - a-g-o-n-i-z-i-n-g - l-e-t-t-e-r - a-t - a - t-i-m-e. Sometimes, the same letter is sounded out multiple times. Oh the joys of having a kindergartener!

Fire Drills

L had a fire drill at school this week. It was the second one of the year but the first one I participated in with her.

I have to admit that it was quite emotional for me. There was no fire, no imminent danger but the possibility weighs heavily on my heart.

My friend M once told me, "having kids is like God removing your heart from inside you and putting tiny little arms and legs on it." That kind of vulnerability is difficult to describe but as a parent, it is a daily experience.

L is starting kindergarten on Monday.

I knew this day was coming and I was warned that it would be here in no time, but I still can't believe it's here!

Yesterday was just the teaser to what Monday will be. Orientation - what a great word.

Orientation: an introduction, as to guide one in adjusting to new surroundings, employment, activity, or the like.

After a few moments of "adjusting to new surroundings," all the parents were asked to leave Room 1 and go to the cafeteria to meet with the principal and the PTO. As we rose to leave, L looked up at us mournfully, as if she, too, realized what a momentous occasion this was, and quietly wailed, "I want you." She was on the verge of tears, and so was I. D and I assured her that she would be ok and quickly filed out of the room with the other parents. I knew she would be in great hands with Ms. F, but what about me?! Who was going to hold my hand and tell me I was going to be ok?

I was unsuccessfully holding back tears throughout the Principal's speech to the parents. Was I the only parent in the room crying? Some of these "others" seemed to be unaffected by it all. Some were used to the drill as they had sent older siblings off years earlier. They were "pros." They were probably the ones on the PTO board.

I just can't imagine sending her off to school. I want the baby years back! That's not possible. So, in the sage words of the Principal, when I am with her, I will give her the best of me. She deserves that portion.

My life is filled with blessings. Sometimes, it's difficult to see them. But, if I look hard enough, they are there.

I have a loving and generous husband.
I have an adorable and exuberant daughter.
I was able to hold my sweet baby in my arms, love her and say good bye.
I experienced the worst pain a parent could go through and I survived.
I can laugh again.
God has provided a respite when I thought none existed.
God has brought me back from the verge of death.
God loves me enough to empty me of me, so that he can fill me up with Him.

While waiting to pick up my friend K yesterday, a nice elderly couple started a conversation with L, obviously enamoured with her five year old beauty and charm.

They asked her if she had any baby brothers or sisters at home. She looked up at me hesitantly. I encouraged her to tell her story, "you can tell them if you want to."

She turn to them and spoke clearly, "No, I don't have any babies at home. My baby sister Anabelle is in heaven."

Startled, they responded, "Is your baby an angel in heaven?"

Clearly, a more elaborate explanation was needed. Calmly, she replied, "I have a baby sister. Her name is Anabelle. She died. She's in heaven now. But she is a baby, not an angel. God has angels but Anabelle is a baby."

I think they understand now.

Anabelle can't come back to me. I am the one who will go to her some day. That is how it works.

I know she is in heaven and we will be together again some day. But, the fact that she has gone ahead of me is heart-wrenching. I am her mother. I am supposed to go first to make sure it's safe. That's a ridiculous statement if you read it intellectually. It's heaven, how much safer can you get? All I know is that I'm not there. She is somewhere I've never been. She is living in a place outside my reach.

Dr. D believes my physical recovery is being stunted by my emotional blockage. My Diastasis Recti has healed except for a 2 inch vertical slit under my belly button. Perhaps my body's reaction to my unfinished grief is to hold on to the only tangible connection I have with my baby. Sounds hokey even to me, but she struck a nerve when she suggested it.

Is it possible that I am sabotaging my recovery because I think once my body is healed that my connection to her will be gone?

Dr. D has suggested I talk to Anabelle and open my heart to connect with her to confirm she is safe. Perhaps it's not that I need to know she is safe. Perhaps I need her forgiveness for betraying her. My body that was supposed to protect and care for her was the cause of her death.

This was the place of our physical connection. My womb cradled her. But it was also my womb that ended her life. My placenta abrupted and stopped the oxygen to her. That separation caused her death. Perhaps this separation is my punishment? I don't deserve to be healed because she never will? Is this what I really think?

Is it possible to be sick of talking about oneself?

Some times, I wish I didn't have a story.

Today's thought: "Anabelle's soul was inside my body for a reason, to bless me and to teach me something."

L's letter:

Dear Anabelle,

I love you. My name is L, your big sister. I miss you. I want to give you a present. I would let you sit in the middle and on my lap.

I know you had a sickness that the doctors couldn't fix but now you're in heaven and I'm glad the sickness is gone. It will be a long time before we're in heaven but it will only feel like a minute to you. When we get to heaven, we will hug you and kiss you.

I will pick lots of flowers for you. We love you Anabelle. We'll kiss you, hug you and hold you.

Love,
L

P.S. We're going to M's birthday party today. We know you can't come because you're in heaven.

I Wanted So Much for You

I wanted so much for you, my sweet little baby.
I wanted to change your diapers, not my life.
I wanted to nurse you, not my grief.
I wanted to dress you up, not bury you down.
I wanted to hear the sounds of you crying for me at night, not my own sounds of crying for you, my innocent, misconceived baby.

I wanted to see you grow, not the grass upon your grave.
I wantd to see you asleep in the crib, not the casket.
I wanted to give you life, not death.
I wanted to show you off, not alone go on.
I wanted to comb your fuzzy hair, not save a lock of it.
I wanted to pick up after you, not put down my dreams for you.
I wanted to hold you in my arms, not this doll.
I wanted to walk you late at night, not my fears.
I wanted so much for you, my newly born, newly gone -- child.

I wanted so much more
I wanted so much
I wanted
I wanted you.

--Maria LaFond Visscher

I've been awake since 2:47am. The house is so quiet. My thoughts are so loud.

Five days ago I was in Vietnam. It seems like another lifetime. And now I'm back in my normal life. Except that nothing feels normal. Unless normal is the aching pain that is still my constant companion.

After weeping on D's shoulder, I feel a tremendous love for this man who is my best friend, lover and father of my children. I am so blessed to be married to a man who loves me so deeply and adores my post-baby body. I asked him how he could possibly be attracted to my "elephant's knee" (how I fondly describe what use to be my tummy). His response, "because I know what it means...that you have borne my children." Did I mention how blessed I am?

Lately, thoughts of another baby linger longer. But it seems inappropriate somehow to be having those thoughts. Anabelle died less than two months ago. The grief is still so deep. The tears unending.

I don't think there is a defined mourning period when you lose a baby. Nothing will ever erase the hurt and pain, not even another child. By trying to create parameters, am I also shutting out the possibility of joy? I will never stop mourning the loss of my sweet baby, but what guarantees do I have for tomorrow?

I never imagined L being an only child. She has so much "big sisterlyness" in her that it seems a shame to have only the one. That aside, D and I have always wanted more children. In my daydreams, I secretly longed for four. I just thought they would all be here on earth with me.

Should I be content with the family I have? Somehow, our family doesn't feel complete.

My friend J encouraged me to reach out for joy if it's possible. We don't know what the future holds. Every day something changes. Things we don't expect can happen. One day can change your entire future. The routine check up that leads to a diagnosis of cancer; the joyous birth that ends in tragedy; the obligatory visit that opens doors and hearts to a long forgotten family.

What is it that I wait for? Will I ever feel ready to resume my life? When will I feel that I deserve happiness? The sun still rises and sets while I wait.

Vietnam Respite

This trip to Vietnam has really been a journey for me. It has changed me in unexpected and welcomed ways.

I was reluctant to go and in reality, had felt no remorse about never returning. Previous opportunities to go were brushed aside as the timing always seemed to be wrong. Even the timing of this trip seemed off to me. I was still deeply mourning the loss of my sweet baby. I couldn't imagine carrying my grief with me for thousands of miles. I didn't feel as though I remembered how to smile or enjoy the simple act of sitting and drinking a cup of coffee. I wasn't ready or deserving of joy, even brief moments of it. My beloved Anabelle had died so tragically, how could I feel pleasure from anything? I was supposed to be packing a diaper bag, not a suitcase. My heart was so heavy with grief, I had no place for frivolity. Tears were my constant companion and I left the house only when necessary. Fifteen days away from D and L were out of the question.

Yet half way around the world, this family that I had no memories of eagerly awaited my arrival. To them, it was the homecoming of a beloved child - a longed for and missed grand-daughter, niece and cousin . I felt as though a lifetime of doting, love and affection were crammed into the ten days we spent in Qui Nhon and Saigon.

I was prepared to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of members in my Father's family. After all, he was the eldest son with seventeen siblings. Instead, I was surrounded by genuine warmth and affection from the moment I arrived. I expected to be viewed as a stranger after such a long absence. Instead, I was greeted with open arms and hearts ready to embrace me and never let go.

Every whim and desire was instantly gratified. Whether it was a craving for a particular meal or the slight urge to go to some particular place, all requests, big or small, were immediately fulfilled. They derived genuine pleasure from being able to treat us so royally.

There were moments when they asked about the baby. It was so difficult to utter even a few words as the tears closed my throat. They quickly brushed away my tears, encouraged me not to be too sad and changed the subject. It's hard not to notice my post-partum belly. It still resembles a five month pregnant belly and even strangers asked about it. Every time I had to tell them the truth, hot tears welled up and spilled, drowning anything more than a few words.

There were times during my trip that the pain ebbed. There were even moments that turned into longer stretches of time where I was able to enjoy the experience. Floating on my back at Bai Bau (a secluded beach) with the sun warming my face, I felt contentment. The last meal at Chu Tan's house was filled with deep belly laughter, of which I participated and even caused. We celebrated deep family ties and fond new memories to replace the missing ones. Surrounded by so much love in the midst of the unfamiliar, I had a respite from my sorrow. I could look forward to the day with a lighter heart. I could expect and even accept - pleasure.

Who's Who in Saigon

The last leg of my trip was to the capital - Saigon. The majority of my Dad's side of the family live here.

The four days that were spent there were a flurry of activity. So many people to see and places to go. Most of the time was spent visiting homes and getting to know kin.

"Who's Who in Saigon" sums it up:

Chu Canh - of all the living brothers, he most closely resembles my Dad (in his "jungle" days). He is quiet with a broad smile. I believe he is the poorest of the relatives in Saigon. He doesn't complain at all and just goes about his business with a cheerful disposition. He mentioned dressing up in army gear and having his picture taken so that we could look at it when we missed our Father. His gesture was genuine and out of a desire to ease our grief.

Co Kinh - She is the mother hen of the family that resides in Saigon. She is busy during all waking hours. She rises before the sun does to prepare for the day. She is moves purposefully and without ceasing. Whether it's going to the market, cooking meals, doing laundry, cleaning the house or scolding some errant relative, she does all without complaint and with a somewhat regal manner. She is the eldest sister in Saigon, so I think she feels responsible for everyone. Her house seems to be headquarters for the family. The entire Saigon family (including Co Ha and her son, who now live in Qui Nhon) lived in her house at one point - including husbands and children.

Co Hoa - half of one set of twins, she lives in a quiet neighborhood not too far from Co Kinh's house. She speaks kindly and softly. There is a quiet sadness about her that I can relate to. A few summers ago, her son died suddenly and tragically while swimming in Qui Nhon. Several boys that day were playing at the beach and were trapped by an undertow. The others were revived, but sadly my young cousin was not. Her loss is great and unceasing. Many of the relatives in Saigon say I closely resemble her. Perhaps it's the shared grief of mothers who have lost beloved children that identifies us.

Co Cam - the twin of Co Hoa's, she has a completely different personality than her sister. She is more frank with a slight edge. With her hair pulled back and perfectly coiffed, I felt intimidated around her for the first few days. Even though her tone is aggressive, she is thoughtful and kind. My first day in Saigon, she took me to dinner and then to have my hair washed. It was such an unexpected treat!

Chu Tan - the youngest brother, he has very endearing qualities. I spent my last full day in Saigon with him. He drove me around sight-seeing downtown. We stopped to have coffee on the 32nd floor of a skyscraper that had a panoramic view of the city and visited the Reunification Palace and War Remnant Museum. My day with him was quite an emotional one, visiting the War Remnant Museum in particular. Our final family dinner was shared at his house and once the dishes were cleared, he had a few things to say to me in front of the family. As we lingered over drinks, he expressed great love for me. Throughout the day he watched me silently cry as I toured the palace and museum. He had expected to see a stranger, disconnected from her motherland after a 32 year absence. A woman who had married an American and detached herself from her family. Instead, he saw family, who openly mourned the devastation that her homeland suffered during the war. He witnessed my heartache and it removed any suspicion or resentment he had towards me.

Vietnam Trip - Day 10

I've just arrived in Saigon this morning and met a slew of more aunts and uncles. Saigon is very hot, probably in the low 90's. I'm at the house of my youngest aunt, Co Dung (pronounced Yoo-ng). She's only a year or so older than me. She's fun and likes to party, I think. She was also in Qui Nhon for a few days.

Qui Nhon was wonderful and I was really sad to leave. It was great to see family but it's also beautiful there. I can't wait to post pictures of the gorgeous and pristine beaches. We went to a secluded cove called, "Bai Bau," which loosely translated means, "Pregnant Beach." Locals say that after a trip there, women miraculously come home pregnant. We were the only people on the beach and felt so privileged. We swam for about two hours and had the beach all to ourselves the entire time. The sand was soft and white, the waves small enough to just float around on your back. It had a shore break, so you could do a little body surfing closer to shore. We only spent one day there and had hoped to go back but the family was keen on showing us different sites.

The next day, we went to the mountains. I think they refer to it as the jungle here. We took a 1 1/2 hour drive into the jungle and were then dropped off a place called, "Ham Ho." I don't really know what that means. I will have to ask someone. We walked through the gates and were greeted by a deafening roar, much like rain falling heavily on a tin roof. Actually, as we passed under the shade of the trees, we felt a light mist falling on our arms and legs. The source of the sound and mist was from cicadas that were sitting in the trees! Needless to say, we kept out mouths closed.

After a short walk to the stream, we climbed aboard skiffs that carried us upstream to beautiful fresh water pools that were surrounded by boulders and trees. Right in the middle of the jungle, amidst waterfalls, there were cool pools to swim in. We explored different pools, swam, floated on our backs and allowed the current to carry us downstream. A little higher up, another pool spilled into ours, creating a fairly strong current. We had fun pretending to be salmon, swimming upstream. Actually, the current was pretty strong and it was as if we had our own "endless stream." We paddled and paddled but still stayed in the same place.

Another day was spent sightseeing. We visited the church where my parents were married. We took a short drive to a different church where the remains of my Aunt Mai (on my mother's side) were laid to rest. She was just a child when she died and we took a moment to honor her short life. We drove by the school my father attended as a young boy. It was built right across the way from the beach. I imagine him daydreaming about swimming rather than studying. We drove along the same road from my mother's house to my father's house. She walked this route every Sunday, on her way to church. It was on one of these Sundays that my father spotted her and fell in love.

And of course, we spend some time every day with my grandmother. Her spirit was strong and rejoicing to see us, even as her body was weak with age and illness. Her soul is now content that she has seen and touched all three children of her beloved first born son.

As we said our final goodbyes, we promises to return soon and bring the rest of the family, especially D and L.

Who's Who in Qui Nhon (that I've met)

Co Hao - she is the eldest sister, born after my Dad. Her rank is "sister #3." She carries herself like the eldest sister. She is respected most above all the other siblings. She is soft-spoken and kind. I had a nice long chat with her our last evening in Qui Nhon. We spoke of family and her deep love for my father and my mother.

Co Ha - her rank is, "sister #4." We stayed with her during the entire Qui Nhon trip. She has an easy laugh and keeps busy. She is constantly moving (cooking, cleaning, going to market, going to church, going over to visit family/friends, caring for her husband, teasing H laughing). She gets a good ribbing from H but she gives as good as she gets. I believe her words to H on our last morning were, "tonight, you die!! *chuckle*"

Co Hiep - her rank is "sister #5" and they actually call her "Co Nam," which means, sister number 5 or just "Nam" which means five. She is the mother hen amongst the sisters. She moved into Ba Noi's house six months ago to help care for her after her heart attack. She has a sweet disposition and doesn't like to see anyone harmed, even slightly. It was she that returned underpants to one of the cousins that H "de-pants-ed" during a swim at Ham Ho. She also joined in half-way through Co Hao and my tete-e-tete.

Chu Thanh - he is the eldest brother still living. After Co Nam, they don't use the numbering system to refer to siblings much. He is soft-spoken and kind. Everyone says I'm his favorite. He lived with my parents while he attended school. Four years younger than my Father, he remembers H and I. For the longest time, he held on to a picture of me, only eight months old, sitting in the crook of his arm, holding on to his thumb. What endeared me to him? Apparently, when I was a little older than one year, he came for a visit. My Father had hidden his cigarettes so that his friends would not smoke all of them. I had seen where he hid them. When Chu Thanh came over, I walked over to the hiding spot, pulled out the precious cigarettes and then trotted over and handed them to him. He is the one that drove me around on his moped and showed me the nostalgic places in town - where my parents lived, met, married, etc.

Chu Binh - he took us to our various swimming spots. He is jovial and kind. He liked to plan our outings and shuttle us all over town on his moped. Hi drives his moped everywhere as his hips bother him. He needs hip-replacement surgery but is waiting until he absolutely cannot stand the pain any longer. His discomfort and pain don't stop him from playing with us all day. He is the most light-hearted of the uncles in Qhi Nhon.

Co Ninh - she is the elder of the first set of twins. She is quiet and goes about her business with a humble spirit. She is always cooking or cleaning it seems. I only heard her speak a few times and tried hard to understand as her words were few and far between. She spoke of matters close to her heart.

Chu Dong - he and Chu Thanh are the photographers of the family. He has been living with Ba Noi for a few years now to care for her. He has no qualms about jumping in to lend a hand with the cooking and cleaning. Mosquitoes are always biting his feet - no where else. He has an easy laugh and a bit of a prankster in him. He and H "de-pantsed" one of the cousins at Ham Ho. He held him while H stripped him of his swimming trunks (undies).

Co Dung - she is the youngest of all the siblings. She actually lives in Saigon but I met her in Qui Nhon. She seems like the one who likes to look for adventures and have lots of fun. She is only a couple of years older than me. She is much like the older sister who comes home from college to take you partying. She is very clever and convinced three of the youngest boys (cousins) to show off their manhood so she could take a picture. She did it by pitting them against each other and telling them that the youngest had the biggest pee pee of them all. They begged to differ and whipped them out to prove her wrong. Who was the bigger fool?

Vietnam Trip - Day 7 (Qhi Nhon)

Well, looks like the mode of travel is moped. I even rode up and down the alley with my sister L driving!! Too bad no one told me until after I had ridden up hills and small alleys with Co Ha that she was prone to accidents!

Everything and everyone is so laid back here in Qui Nhon. No one can make up their minds about plans as they are so concerned about showing us a good time and accommodating even the tiniest request. My brother H mentioned a craving for mit and voila, it was procured that evening. Late one night, he hinted at a hankering for chai coc (frog fruit) and Co Ha said she would pick it up in the morning as they only sell it by the beach and it was well after sunset. Instead, she ran out of the house, in the dark, to the beach and bought half a dozen. She warned us that the sour fruit would upset our stomachs eaten so late at night...she was right.

Each evening, plans are made for the following day, but when that day arrives, the plans have changed - along with who is coming and who is not.

Food here is much more affordable than Hanoi. We fed lunch to a family of 20 for about $16 USD.

Our typical day starts at about 5:30 or 6:00am. The sun rises early and we along with it. We make our way downstairs and then have coffee around the corner and then drive to another place for breakfast. One morning we even breakfasted at Chu Thanh's house. Lunch is eaten sometime between 11:00 am to 2:00pm. We are ordered to have a mid-afternoon naps, which we decline initially but then promptly fall asleep. Dinner is eaten at home, on the floor with everyone gathered around. Eating is a social occasion and the aunts and uncles come over to the host house, cook together and then we all eat and laugh and make plans for the next day (which, of course, will change by the next day).

It's warm, it's fun and it's family.

Vietnam Trip - Day 6 (Qui Nhon)

We've just arrived in Qui Nhon this morning. I've met several aunts (Co), uncles (Chu), cousins (Em) and second cousins (we refer to them as neices and nephews and they refer to us as Co and Chu). It's a little overwhelming trying to keep track of their names but I have a few days to learn them.

We went to see my grandmother today. She was overcome with joy to see the three of us. They wanted to take us up to her house in the mountains one at a time as not to over excite her and cause a heart attack. When it was all said and done I think she demanded that they bring all of us at once.

It was a very emotional homecoming. This is the city where I was born but nothing feels familiar. Tomorrow is supposed to be a tour of the city and visiting childhood places....the hospital where H and I were born, the church where my parents were married, the cemetery where my grandfather and other relatives are buried.

It's amazing how welcomed I feel by the family; how quickly I feel at ease with them. Even though these aunts and uncles haven't seen me in over 32 years, they have welcomed me with open arms, warm kisses and heart felt hospitality. We are staying at Co Ha's house (she is the second eldest aunt). She has built a 3 story house and recently remodeled but her children are all grown and moved away. So, she has room to spare and it's nice staying with family.

Qui Nhon is has a much slower pace than Hanoi. It's a beach town, much like Carlsbad. Not as busy as Hanoi, which is a welcomed relief. Tomorrow, Chu Binh is taking us on a boat tour near some island off the coast. We should be able to go swimming. It's fairly warm during the day, around 82 degrees, but the beach is only a few short blocks away.

We headed down to the beach after our "forced" siesta but only the boys went swimming. My bathing suit is modest by San Diego standards but L and I caused quite a stir just by our presence at the beach in tank tops. We were too shy to actually take our dresses off and go swimming. L says that most of these guys have never seen a hiny and she wasn't about to show them hers.

There weren't many girls there and the few that were wading in the water wore capris and short sleeved shirts. Co Ha says that most of the women go swimming earlier in the day as they have to make dinner after the mid-afternoon nap.

Despite warnings from both my parents and D, I must confess that I did ride on the back of a moped twice today. Once to go up the my grandmother's house, which is quite a trek up the mountain and then once down the mountain. I say mountain, but really it's more of a steep hill. My aunt and uncle wouldn't hear of us walking up in the heat. There was no traffic as it was more of a foot path. We might try to borrow some bicycles tomorrow and ride around but most things are within walking distance - though no one seems to walk and all prefers mopeds, even just to travel one block.

Traffic here is not as bad as Hanoi. There was quite a bit of congestion in the city and I did learn how to cross crazy busy intersections. Slow and steady, and everyone moves around you. It's quite unnerving to walk not through but into the traffic. Vehicles actually move into oncoming traffic when making left turns. It's crazy but I didn't see a single accident when I was in Hanoi. Our driver on the way back from our Ha Long Bay tour did accidently cross over to the other side of the median, into oncoming traffic somehow. He just slammed on the breaks, backed up and then got back on the right side of the road. Everyone else was still sleeping and I was the only one aware of the incident (other than the driver and tour guide). I don't think the others even woke up.

I am still so homesick for D and L. I miss Anabelle, too, and the sorrow seems to come on suddenly. H has forbidden the family to ask me about her but that doesn't change the grief. It's not as consuming but it is hard to catch my breath at times when I think of her. I think being around people all day has afforded me little "down time." It's funny saying that as I'm usually the one one the go. But, I must admit that I do need down time now and then.