My Little Girl

You're a beautiful baby, from the outside in
Chase your dreams but always know
The road that will lead you home again
Go on, take on this old world but to me
You know you'll always be my little girl

--“My Little Girl,” Tim McGraw

Everyone asks about her name. In truth, Tung and I had not thought of it; so wrapped up were we, and so in love with the idea of a little girl joining our family. From the start, Luc has been a mama’s boy. I did not raise him that way, but he naturally clung to me. I burst with joy the first time I heard him call me “Mama”—the very words I never thought I’d hear during my long months battling infertility. I cherished the times he clasped my index finger tightly in his fist and led me to his next adventure. I fell into a content sleep when he rested his head and warm hand on me at the end of a long day.

Tung loves our little boy, but in so many ways, Luc is my son. That’s why we knew from the start that our second baby would be her daddy’s girl from the moment we learned her sex. There is one name that Tung had coveted since he was young: Thi. It means “Poetry.” At first I did not want this name for her, but among the many other swift decisions we had to make, we knew we had to bestow upon her a name. 

I wanted to give him a daughter. He would have been her hero, and she would have been his world. Instead, I could only offer him hollow promises of what could have been. So finally, we decided on her name: Thi Aracelli Sen—“Poem of the Altar of the Sky.” She is the concept of beauty that I couldn’t quite grasp. She is the stars and clouds, moon, fog, and heavens. She is everything I long for, and nothing I could reach or hold.