Sun Hee's Story...

In search of Self and Happiness

"Hi, I'm Sun Hee. You can call me 'Sunny.' " I speak with medium tone of voice with smile. This is how I start the conversation whenever I encounter new acquaintance. Introducing my original name would be the little hint for others that I'm non-native English speaker. If anybody notices my two syllable name is common for Koreans, I'm very glad. But of course, I don't mind if anybody, who is not certain about my name or curious about it, asks my origin or nationality. I prefer when people asks questions, and verifies the truth with me rather than assuming from my appearance or predicting from their personal background.

A portrait of Sun Hee by her husband, a professional designer/artist  

Less than a minute, I hesitate how I should continue going on the conversations. No one likes the uncomfortable silence after introducing each other. I try to render many sentences in my head, but the safest and easiest questions seem to be a weather recognition. As long as I stay in the boundaries of the mutual communication ground, I don't feel so awkward.


However, I have a desire to be asked certain questions in order to deepen the overall conversations. Among many others, my favorites are; 'How long have you been in Chicago?', 'How did you meet your husband?', 'What do you like to do when you have a free time?', and 'Is there any meaning behind your name?'

With eight years of practicing my English in total immersing situation, I've had enough experience to answer those questions without hesitation. Finally I'm willing to share these stories with others.

*   *   *

  It's been four years living in Chicago. I can't say it was an easy road from the beginning, but now I can say I'm truly enjoy living in Chicago. What a journey! What an agony! What a drama! What a roller-coaster ride of life! If there's a God, s/he knows how I survived during these four years. No matter how well trying to explain these time, I still don't think it's illustrated enough.

Sun Hee with her daughter, visiting her home in S. Korea 

In 2007, late September I arrived at O'hare airport with new-born baby in my arm. My husband's recent job then was very promising and considered a great opportunity for the long run. Previous four years of living in Montreal, Canada was just about to settle, now my life seemed to have other plans for me. Having delivered a new-born in Lasalle Hospital in Montreal was just a month and half ago. Leaving family and friends behind who were my primary support was torture. Not being able to drive while my work-devoted husband's staying late in his office was surely a life obstacle. All the stores, all the products, even language that commonly people speak seemed real foreign, although I spoke English good enough to communicate in general life. From A to Z, nothing comforted me in this time. It's said once we experience the time of difficulty, we finally get comfortable in ourselves. I guess that was the reason why I suffered the ultimate isolation, depression and desperation. It's always hard to imagine to put ourselves unless we went through same situation, but I'm in a mission to describe what it was like, being a mom in a foreign land without any comfort or support, building something from nothing.

 With her dad, mom, brother, and daughter

During my little one’s first year, I was like a hostage in my own home. Not to mention that I'm much of outgoing person, very social, a magnet to people, but no one was available. No one visited me, no one reached out their hands. The only person that I could interact was my fast growing child. She was the only human being that I shared my feelings, my life at that moment. In a retrospect, maybe this extreme isolation for a long period made me strong at the same time, made me being able to be flexible regardless the situation. 

It also came down to a confidence issue. First, I was afraid of talking in English, because I didn't want to make mistakes in front of others. Majoring English Literature in Chosun University in Korea was not helpful when it came to the real conversation in the Jewel-Osco or in the neighborhood playground. I had hard time to understand what the grocery clerk was telling me, so instead of asking him to repeat the questions, I just nodded and pretended to understand. I wanted to avoid further embarrassment. With thousands of times practicing, trying, promising myself not to get embarrassed even if the others don't understand me, finally now I can go to any stores without worries. Furthermore I have an abundance to make jokes with clerks.

The other part of overcoming lack of confidence was learning how to drive. I don't know how many times I cursed myself not learning driving earlier. I never knew not being able to drive was the greatest drawback in Chicago life. Whenever I saw a mom who was entering in my daughter's music class with a dangling car key in her finger, there was a loud voice echoed in my head. 'I wish I could dangle my car key just like her..', 'I wish I could take my daughter in a warm car, instead of waiting for a bus in a cold weather and riding with crowds.'

I tolerated all the inconvenience without complaining, I hesitated enough, but it was time to change. At the beginning of 2010, I decided to take driving lessons. But, I needed to find the confidence in me before driving in the city. I never had any experience in driving what-so-ever, besides I never had any interest or desire to drive a car. But it was time to act, I needed to brainwash myself with this simple sentence, 'I can do it! I can do it!'

After five months of practicing driving a car with a compassionate driving instructor from the driving school, I finally got the driver license. The day I got the rectangle shape of plastic driver license with my shy smile on was the best triumphal moment of my life. However, life was never easy on me. Since our car was stick shift, I needed to practice few more months to drive on my own. By mid-September 2010, I was finally able to drive alone.

*   *   *

Now, the year of 2011, mid-November, I'm sitting on the driver seat, shifting engine gears smoothly, taking my daughter to her preschool comfortably. While she's in her school, I often do the errands such as grocery shopping, picking up books from the local library, and if I still have a time I go to the neighborhood cafe. I like to sit next to the big window. I bring my homework from Memoir workshop or sometimes I just take out my small purple notebook to scribble. Often I get teary eyes because I'm writing my memories from the past mainly. Sometimes my words can't describe all of my feelings so I choose certain phrases and forms them into an impromptu verse. I drink alternately Mocha coffee and Hot chocolate. These aroma and the heat warm me up to create a certain mood to write. I often watch people walking by on the Roscoe street. I often gaze long time to the fallen leaves and dried flowers. I look up the sky and look for clearing spot between grey, dark clouds. Then, my alarm says it's time to pick up my daughter.

A day of writing in a local cafe

While waiting in the hall way for my daughter comes out from her classroom, I often get to talk with other parents. Luckily I already developed good relationship with few moms and had joyful play dates with kids together. Building a new social network is something I put into priority after learning a hard lesson. But also I'm constantly reminding myself that the relationship always changes so I shouldn't expect too much from others, just let it be. There are things that we can't control, people are unpredictable, situations are tricky but good friends will stay until the end; I believe in this. 

On my way home, driving my stick shift car in the city of Chicago, listening to my 4-year-old daughter's preschool adventures are like my dream come true. Whenever people talk about their dream, it's mostly extravagant. But I've learned the real dream or paradise of his/her own doesn't have to be far away. It's only a matter of finding it in a mundane life.

The little things 

With her daughter and husband in his hometown, Montreal

Sun Hee lives in Chicago with her husband, an accomplished artist, and her larger-than-life daughter. Sun Hee's creative soul is beckoning her to continue writing her memoir and sharing her stories. 

Lisa's Story

I have to be honest; it took me a few days to figure out exactly who I am beyond “Mom”. It’s been almost two years now since I’ve been a mother. And while it’s been the most challenging and rewarding experience, it has also led me to forget about who else I really am. The first year of motherhood was the toughest for me. I felt like that’s when most of “me” slipped away. I started to feel like more than a Mom after the first year, then a few months later found out I was pregnant again. Now, while I am so thrilled to be welcoming #2 in just a few short weeks, I am also thrilled to have my body back to being “my body”. I am also excited for the challenge of discovering exactly how people juggle more than one child, especially a newborn and a toddler. Once I figure that out, I anxiously await re-introducing the life passions I had pre-motherhood.


So, what are those exactly? What do I love to do? What has been on the back burner for quite some time now?  What has taken me a few days to rediscover and unearth from the not-so- distant past? 

On a winter white hike with her dog

If I had all the time in the world, with no strings attached, my days would be spent in a variety of ways. I love to hike. I love to hike with my dog, in the woods, her running off leash…free…wild…just as nature intended. This was a daily pastime when we lived back in Central NY. She and I miss that a great deal.


I would also fill my days applying my creative mind to making things for my family, my friends, myself. I love to create. I love to apply digital technology to mold pieces of art. I love arts and crafts in the literal sense. I love to draw. I love to write. And, I love reusing materials in my house in unexpected ways. 

A baby mobile she created just this month

Lisa's homemade artwork for her daughter's room

In a non-literal sense, I love to harness my creative energy with event planning. I love parties. I love attending them, planning them, and hosting them. My body and soul thrive on human interaction, connection and relationships. My friends and family are my world. The day I married my husband was the only time we’ve all been under the same roof at one given time. My dream is to defeat the distances that separate us all and bring us all under one roof again. 

My final passion is travel. Some of my most exciting days of my life occurred while my husband and I lived in Germany. We had the world at our fingertips. We traveled through Europe any chance we had. Some trips were well planned out; while others were completely spontaneous. Some involved hitting all the major tourist attractions. But those which have the fondest memories involved wandering narrow cobblestone streets only to stumble upon that hidden, off- the- beaten -path pub, cheese shop, restaurant or art gallery.  I dream about these days often and plan to return to them once our children fly the coop.

Lisa in Spain, one of over 15 countries
she's visited with her husband

Hiking, creating, event planning, building relationships and traveling the world:  Those are my passions aside from motherhood. Motherhood is amazing but I feel liberated to say, “I AM MORE THAN MOM”. 

Now in her ninth month pregnant with baby 2, Lisa has successfully unpacked their life into their first home, decorated spectacularly, and is hosting an open house party...today. The modern day Martha Stewart lives with her husband Kevin and their beautiful daughter in Illinois and is expecting baby boy J by Thanksgiving.   

Kristin's Story...

I live in the tension, and in the miracle. 


As a Christian, I live in the tension of aspiring to Christ-like love, grace, patience, and generosity, while confronting the reality of my selfishness, short temper, and critical nature. I live in the tension of doubt in the face of faith. I live in the tension of this short moment on earth before arriving Home. 


And I live in the miracle of redemption, of being loved unconditionally, of a God who became man, died, and returned to life to save us from ourselves. There are many mysteries to ponder here. 


As a medical student and soon-to-be doctor, I live in the tension of admiring the traditional model of medicine where physicians know all their patients and make house calls, in contrast with today’s age of super-specialized medicine, limited patient-doctor time, and reams of paperwork. 

Kenyan patient from last year's medical work.
                                       (permission obtained)

I live in the tension of wanting to emulate the amazing physicians who are my role models while recognizing that they are all white men who had stay-at-home wives taking care of their kids and homes while they worked long hours perfecting their craft. I live in the tension of the perils of modern medicine’s ability to keep bodies alive indefinitely, at what expense, for what purpose, yet without a dignified way to accept death, which takes us all, eventually. 


And I live in the miracle of the human body, of sawing through a rib cage and finding a real-live purplish heart pumping life-blood at seventy beats a second, of learning how the kidneys maintain a perfect electrolyte balance, of eliciting a reflex arc. I live in the miracle of healing and restoration, of seeing cancer melt away, of watching families experience the joy of a loved one waking up after a successful surgery, of relieving suffering. 

I live in the tension of being blessed abundantly, of enjoying so many good things – my husband, swimming, running, reading, writing, baking, hiking – yet knowing there are millions in the world who lack clean water to drink, who have never tasted ice cream or cherries or chocolate or a croissant or pears, who die for want of a fifty-cent antibiotic, who grow up on the streets without ever knowing what it is like to sleep in a safe bed. 

Kristin's homemade braided challah

I live in the tension of devoting my life to expanding systems of healthcare abroad to create more equitable access, while witnessing how international aid is used both properly and improperly to engender dependency, enable waste, and enrich the powerful. 


And I live in the miracle of knowing that one day, the last will be first and the first will be last, that blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. This is a fearfully tremendous promise. 


 As of 49 days ago, I am also a mother. One more strand of tension – this lack of sleep, this dying to self! – and miracle – those tiny toes, those fleeting sighs! – to add to the elastic, dynamic, vibrant web of this one wild and precious life. 

Baby C's first day at church,
with Kristin's husband

Kristin and her husband have been recently blessed by their newest miracle, a baby boy. They are living their one wild and precious lives together in Massachusetts.

Just imagine...

Imagine this. You have one hour each day that is completely yours - child-free, worry-free, distraction-free (I know, but just stay with me...) You could go anywhere, do anything. Aside from just sleeping or putting a dent in that giant pile of laundry, what would you love to do with this one precious hour each day? 

{ Email your story to beyondmomsblog@gmail.com } 

Why Write?

Why We Must Write...

"We wear who we are. We speak who we are. We act who we are. We try to read about who we are. And we attempt, as best as we can, to live who we are. But when it comes to writing who we are, we get stumped, anxious, uncomfortable. Maybe it is because writing gives us the microscope to inspect with closer intimacy the truth of who we actually are. And therein lies the fear; and therein lies the necessity." 

The Sounds of our Kids...  

"I won't. I can't. I don't want to. No you. Not now. I can't remember. Gosh. I just really don't know how." I'm kidding. These are the sounds adults make when we're asked to write anything about ourselves.  

It's peculiar. I've been a mom for 4 years now. And in conversations with other moms, once the topic of our personal selves is approached - what we love to do, wish we could do, have tried but have failed to do...I never really know how to just say,"No, seriously, I really want to hear more about you." What usually happens is that one of us will round the conversation into a sigh or throw-away laughter and then pose another benign question from the bottomless mommy barrel of: where'd you get your daughter's hairbow I've been looking for those! and, have you checked out Turner's kids eat for free on Tuesdays? 

As if what was being personally shared or said is of non-importance. As if that tiny shimmer of dream or pain we nearly revealed amidst the usual mom banter belongs to some yesteryear. As if we would, actually, always, rather talk about our kids than about ourselves. 


So I started this blog as a way for us to say just that: "No, seriously, I really want to hear more about you." 


But I've talked to quite a few moms who are still unsure of what to share, what to write, what story about themselves they want to give away. They wonder, "Why share anyways?" I believe the risk is not in writing something for others to read; the real risk is in asking yourself a few simple questions about what you love and who you are and then being patient with yourself just long enough to let the truth slip out. It's a risk worth taking, because you are the only person you're ever meant to be. Why not take an hour to talk to her, and then share what you've discovered? It doesn't hurt to share...I have found it actually hurts to not share. 


I am pretty sure: this is a tiny world. Not just this blog space (this I am sure of - we're not going viral here :) but this time in our lives in general. How we give ourselves away to this world is up to us. There's no right or wrong way. So take those nervous fears: "she wrote about this so I should write about that" or "her story is interesting, what if mine isn't?" and meet them with the courage to jot down a few things you already know about the one person you know the best but talk to the least.  And when your doubts implore you: "What good is it to write? What good is it to share?" answer them back with this insight from Barbara Kingsolver: Because it is the one and only thing I have to offer.  


{ If you'd like to share what you have to offer (and yes, it's worth offering!) please email your story and any pictures you'd like to include to beyondmomsblog@gmail.com. }

Cherryl's Story...

{ I am thankful to my mom for sharing her story, which I have posted below.  To add the story behind her story - through my eyes, my mom is an angel, always giving, always giving. She and my dad, after going through some of the most devastating life events you could experience as a woman and as  parents, they made the decision to love again, and to adopt my brother and I in 1983 when I was 2 and my brother, Brian, was 4. We were two orphans from South Korea, abandoned on the streets and found by the police. To my mom (and dad as well), we were the children she was always meant to have, given to her by God and an unknown woman who gave away what she was never meant to keep.  My mom gave us a home, a family, and the blessing of unconditional love. Not until recently--after much searching, and after I became  a mother myself--could I wrap my heart around the bigness of what she did and who she is. I do not know where a woman gains the strength to sacrifice what it takes to adopt a child, let alone two, from literally, the other side of the world, and love us without condition. I pray to grow my love, and forgiveness, to the heights my mother has shown to me. }

I am Woman, Hear me Roar! First and foremost I am a woman, after that wife, mother, grandmother, caregiver, builder and homemaker. One says that “ home maker” is a meaningless job, but I don’t think so, imagine how many hats a home maker wears!

{my mom, Cherryl (yes, that's two r's), is the mini-Shirley Temple there on the left } 

My life’s vocation was that of a Radiographic Technologist. Maybe that’s where the caregiver comes in since I have always put other people before me, at least I think so, because by being a wife and mother, care giving is first in your life.

I also love to create things, from good dinners to plants blooming and of course my crafts, which really help me to beat my stress level. The idea of creating something with my own hands leaves me with a feeling of greatness, not God great, but people great.

The greatest accomplishment in my life are my children - to see what they have become is a true joy. First as adults, then partners, and now parents. Life’s full circle is complete. I hope that this gives you a sense of who I am, what I have become, and how I live my life.

{ Joey, Danny, Addy, Me, Brian, Sun, and not in the photo is Cherryl's newest grandson, Ethan }

Cherryl is currently living her story, prodigiously taking care of her husband who recently suffered a back injury, as well as their home and their very loved and spoiled dog, Bailey. The trio reside in MI. 

Bree's Story...

{ I confess my bias...Bree is my sister-in-law - my sister in life, in motherhood, and beyond... Thank you Bree for sharing, you know I love you }

Beyond Mom?  Really?  Hmm, let’s see…who am I?

Of course, beyond a mom, I'm a wife, daughter, sister, friend and co-worker.

But beyond that, I'm a creative junkie.  I scrapbook, blog, draw, color, make photobooks, create invitations, take crazy amounts of pictures…I do whatever I can do in any capacity to be creative.

I am a Creative Junkie.  

But that's not what I feel defines me.  

So what makes me tick?

INSPIRATION. 

I am an inspiration-seeker, and I find it everywhere.  I find it in my family & friends and their amazing accomplishments.  Just the same, I find it in strangers. I find it in dancing children dressed in footie pjs.  I find it in my husband's eyes.  I find it moments of peace and in chaos.  I find it in celebrations of life and love.  I find it in nature and all of its beauty.  I find it in my journey of faith and in God.  

I find it in all of the places that make up exactly who I am as a mom and beyond...and then I find ways to capture it. 

My inspiration-seeking has now led me to photography, with which I am now obsessed.  Ok, confused and obsessed...and in love.  And of course, inspired.  CLICK!

Oddly enough, the picture of this little bug is the perfect example of why I've fallen in love with this new “inspiration-capturer”.  Sure, it's the first grasshopper my son, Grant, has ever caught.  And yes, that's definitely a cool thing to catch in a picture.  Beyond that though, it's the story behind the picture that I love so much.

When you look at Grant's hands, you can see how little he is; how he hasn't quite outgrown his chubby baby-style fingers.  At the same time though, you can see how much he's maturing just by how gently he's handling the grasshopper (last summer, that poor insect would have been smashed into a glob of goo out of pure excitement).  It's like you can literally see Grant's little-big-kid curiosity in just his hands alone.  So cool, isn't it?   

It's a different way of looking at life through still shots.  The right picture really does tell a story...and surprisingly, the subject of the story doesn't always have to have a face or a background full of details.  Just fingers and a new bug friend.

My pictures aren’t great – they’re all kind of messed up from a photography standpoint, but I’m learning.  It gets really overwhelming when I learn more about how much I don’t know.  But it seems that when I’m in a rut, I capture just one, fleeting moment that kicks my inspiration back into high gear…

…and I fall in love all over again.




Bree lives with her husband and their two wondrously goofy kids in IL. She recently joined a community of other ClickinMoms. And make sure to check out her photo blog...once her courage clicks and the time is right for her to share it. 

Ponder this...

Take away fear and embarrassment. Now, how would you live your life?


{just try this:  ponder a minute. scribble out a word. jot down a phrase. draw a picture. if it leads you somewhere - follow. that small part of you will thank you for it.} 

Mira's Story

{Hooray! Our first contributor! Thanks for sharing, Mira.} 


I am a knitter.  You can see me knitting on the T, in line, at the doctor's office, on my lunch hour, when I watch TV, walking around. Pretty much anytime I'm not actively doing something else with my hands, I'm kitting. I knit because I hate the idea of just sitting and not doing anything when I could be being productive. I knit because I love the feel of yarn in my hands – wool, alpaca, cashmere, linen, bulky, lace-weight, worsted weight.  



I love the mental challenge of complicated lace or cables, and the relaxation of a simple stockinette, garter, or rib.   I knit for me, for family and friends, photo samples for designers. It doesn’t really matter what I’m knitting or for whom, it’s as much a part of me as walking or picking up a fork.  

Definitely one of the most challenging aspects of motherhood for me has been, literally, having my hands full, and not being able to knit nearly as much as I had before. It’s definitely part of why I babywear, and now that my son is a little more independent, one of my favorite things to do is sit with him on the floor while he plays with his toys and I knit. It lets me have some "me" time while still being present with him, which is definitely win-win!

Mira lives in Massachusetts with her husband and her little guy, Jesse. Check out her blogs: Mamas and Milk, and, Mira's Knits.

Beyond being a mom, I am...

Are you wondering what you might want to submit? Not sure where to start? Think you don't have anything worth saying? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gotcha. Believe me, I have been there. I was there. Still am there - chipping my way out of insecurity with a nervous pen and, well, a couple blogs.


So, let's just first establish this, shall we?


You, yes you, absolutely have something important to say. You have a story, a secret, that only you know - so only you can tell it. And if you can believe it, there's other moms who actually want to hear it, know it, cry with you about it, celebrate and dance with you about it. Seriously. Sounds crazy but it's true.


Okay, now that we're on the same page, here's a blip of inspiration to get those 'ole introspective wheels a-turnin' (maybe it's been a while?)


Ready?
Okay quick.


Don't think too hard just go.


How would you complete this sentence? Beyond being a mom, I am...


In the comment box below, write whatever bubbles to the surface first.








[see...that wasn't so bad, was it?]

Beyond Moms: Submit Your Story

Share Your Beyond Mom Story
You and I, we are moms. We pass each other everywhere - at the playground, school, doctor's office, grocery store aisle, you name it. But it's just so hard to get beyond mom. After we've exhausted comparing diaper brand notes and school options, it's time to go. But what about you? What about me? We are each something more, but rarely do we get a chance to share it.


You and I, we are moms. We love our children. We love our families. But being a mother is not the whole of who we are.


Beyond Moms is a place for you, mama, to share your personal story of who you are "beyond mom" and connect with other moms on a deeper, more honest level.


So tell us - what is the story you really wish you could tell the world about yourself? What do you love to do? Dream to do? Are dying to do? Who were you before you were a mom and who are you beyond being a mom? Like most mothers, you probably haven't given yourself the time, space, or permission to ask yourself those long buried questions. So here's your chance. Please try. Dig deep. And once you think you've reached your raw soul - dig deeper. That's where the good stuff is.


How to Submit
Just share your honest story about what lives in your space beyond mom, however you want to tell it, in about 600 words or less and email to: beyondmomsblog@gmail.com. If less means a photo and a few lines - great! I will happily post whatever you have to offer.


Maybe your story is about something you've already done, or want to do, or can't bring yourself to try. Maybe it's about what motherhood has taught you about yourself and the world. Perhaps your story is about what you haven't yet discovered. Whatever it is, we want to hear about it. Aside from the word count, there are no rules, and certainly no judge or jury.


If you have photos, blog or website links, or other writings or excerpts that help to tell your Beyond Mom story, send those too. I will post your story and links on this blog.


Be courageous! Be daring! Be yourself and - share.

Welcome All Moms

We are mothers. Absolutely. And those lovely cannonball miracles we call our children soak up nearly the whole of us. Our love. Our patience. Our brain cells, even. We had more of those at one point or another. Or so we’d like to think.


But. There is a space. You know the one. That forgotten space.
That once upon a time space.
That maybe
someday
one day
I can…


space.


It appears small. It appears far. But every once in a while – during that late steering grip drive home, or through restless midnight window dreams – you go to that space...beyond. Then fill it.


The question is – with what?


So. I want to know. What fills, no, correction –


What fulfills your


space
beyond


mom


?