In July 1996, the summer I first met my child Peter, it was a moment of overwhelming joy that I will never forget. But the joy of his birth was short-lived. Soon after, the doctors said that my baby had a serious problem and needed to be transferred immediately to a large hospital for detailed examinations. Without any clear explanation, they kept the details from me. My husband and my baby’s grandmother got into the ambulance with him, while I was left behind. ​My mother held my baby tightly in her arms, crying continuously all the way to the hospital, praying desperately to the Blessed Mother. My husband also prayed with all his heart, hoping the diagnosis was wrong.

That one week was the most painful time of my life. My baby was kept isolated in an incubator and all I wanted to do was hold him. I kept pleading, “Please save my child. If You let him live, I will do anything.”

​As if that desperate prayer was heard, I was told after nine days saying he could be discharged. After ten long days, I was finally able to hold my son for the first time.

He grew up healthy and ordinary. At the age of nine, he receive his First Holy Communion and began serving as an altar server. After we immigrated, I prayed earnestly that he would grow up well and succeed in his studies. Little by little, the memory of those painful first days faded.

When my son told me he wanted to enter seminary, I shouted at him. “Do you think I lived this hard life, far away from my parents and siblings just so I could send you to the seminary?” I thought that he would change his mind. But even so, I attended daily Mass, praying only that he would be happy.

Before his diaconate ordination, I asked him, “Are you happy?” He answered, “I am truly happy.”
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At that moment, I remembered the day he was born. I had said I would do anything if only his life could be saved. I realized how arrogant and selfish I had been—forgetting that promise and trying to raise my child according to my own desires. I felt deeply ashamed.

From the very beginning, he was a gift sent to me.

When my son entered the seminary, I felt that God was calling me back once again. Since then, I have tried to live more carefully, more quietly, and more humbly. I now believe this, too, is a new gift given to me.
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Now, with a heart full of joy and gratitude, I will walk forward in happiness.
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Thank you for listening to my story and thank you for giving me this precious time. Thank you so much. ​