I'm going to medical school.

My sister tells me the next four years of medical school will be the hardest years of my life.

I tell her, you know what's hard?

It's hard when you you spend your weeknights after work studying in the library and you rush home and you realize your baby boy has already fallen asleep so you tip toe into his room and you gaze at his beautiful sleeping face because it hurts, because you miss him even though he's right in front of you, and you can only hope that one day he'll understand why you're quitting your job as an engineer, why you're spending your weeknights and weekends in the library, why you volunteer your time to helping others. Because at the end of the day, you want to be able to come home and tell your family that you made a difference, that you spent your time working to make a positive impact. And maybe one day, he'll forgive me for not being there.

But I'll tell him I was there. Just when he wasn't looking.

A short poem to my unborn.

You're late!

You must be as stubborn as your father

or is it your mother?

Waiting til tommorrow, are we?

Keeping us anxiously waiting

But the bags are packed

filled to the brim

clothes and knick knacks

groceries and snacks

So come when you will

There's be plenty of time

to look at pretty American girls

and eat delicious Korean food