I thought love was a positive result in a pregnancy kit, or those other three positive results we took to be sure we weren't dreaming.

And then I thought love was seeing you for the first time through an ultrasound machine. Love was then in black and white, and in the size of a rice grain. We could see your heart beating, it was fast, like you were excited to show us you were there.

And then I thought love was hearing your heartbeat for the first time, I still remember how it felt - it made everything real.

And then I thought love means vomiting in the middle of my commute, sacrificing all the junk I used to eat, and making sure I was healthy, so you could be healthy too.

And then I thought love was seeing you grow through a series of check-ups, seeing you become like I am.

And then I thought love was waking up to your kicks in the middle of the night, or feeling your hiccups, or seeing my belly move from one side to the other, letting me know that you are coming.

And then I thought love was counting the months, weeks, days to finally seeing you.

And then I thought love was getting excited to be induced which means more medical intervention, but also means that I'll be seeing you soon.

And then I thought love was getting through labor. I didn't even know how many hours has passed, every contraction was worth it.

And then I thought love was pushing for hours to deliver you in this world. I felt like a failure when I couldn't deliver you after three hours. I was ready to see you, but I guess I wasn't strong enough.

And then I thought love was opting for surgery to get you out. I chose to be awake for the whole process just to hear you cry.

And then I thought love was when I first heard you cry. I could not hold my tears, you made all the pain worth it.

And then I thought love was when I first held you in my arms, you were 7.1lbs and 52cm. You look like just your father.

And then I thought love was when we spent our first night home, you kept us awake, but I didn't care.

And then I thought love was being able to finally breastfeed you. I took every piece of advice there is to make sure I have enough supply. There were a lot of things that didn't come my way when I was delivering you, so I want this one thing to work for us both.

And then I thought love was this and love was that, but everytime I feel like I knew what love was, I feel an even greater love each time I look at you.

And even as I write this - looking at your right now sleeping on my tummy.. I feel an even greater love for you right now more than I felt when I started writing.

I love you, little one.

I haven't met you yet,
But I will live for you

Every poem written
Is a reflection of who you are today

So tell me,
Do you like what you see?

You are made by the same hands that made the stars, the moon, and the earth. How dare I compare you to something only a man created - you are not just art, you are something more than that.

Fate, destiny, kismet -- however you call it. It stilll ends up with making a choice.

You are a piece of art
that doesn't belong to anyone

No museum can cage you

Thank you for making me feel.

Sometimes I feel like every poem is about me. I feel you - the love, the pain, the longing; so keep on writing.

To feel is to live.

My soul is like a garden -
some parts are full of flowers
some parts are full of weeds

But this time,
It's comfortable
It's not defeaning
It's calm

I believe this is peace.

Everything that kept me awake most nights no longer bother me, all the white noise I kept hearing was gone.

They were right, it is so much harder to write about things you cannot relate to - I can no longer write poems about longing and melancholy.

This is what it feels like to be a writer who has already been healed.

I am happy.

I thank God I am alive.

Hold your head up, love
The waves, they crash
The raindrops fall
It’s okay for you to stumble
Yet the tides rest
The storm ends
Get on your feet,
do your best

anxiety

I am but a piece of flower, almost withered, never having seen the sun. And there she was, a tulip, never opening up to anyone. Then there were some that come in groups, like orchids - every color there is. My mom and her friends, a bouquet of sunflowers, always looking up the sun. Partners and colleagues, daisies and stargazers. And every other girl you come across with, angel’s breath, roses, lilies and dahlia.

A planet full of women is a garden.

Always wanting to be found
Been wishing to saved
Even if deep in your heart you knew
The only person that could save you
Is you

Funny how we're so scared about the future when tomorrow is not even guaranteed.

A ceramic vase shattered in front of her eyes, she was not the one at fault, but she fixes it anyway.

Now at 18, a boy’s heart is shattered and he's now in front of her, she was not the one who broke the boy’s heart, but she fixes him anyway.