Popo Hasn’t Given Up on Pressuring Us to Have a Baby Yet

Popo is relentless again. She calls Yong daily, asking why fate dealt her a son who forgets her sacrifices. She raised him alone, yet he’s blind to her yearning for grandkids—a stark contrast to her friends, all grandparents, while she, nearing 60, has none. I suggest to Yong she’s guilt-tripping him, painting herself the victim for his childlessness. But secretly, I question if this trait plagues all Chinese parents. In the family WeChat group, Popo’s a different person, avoiding complaints about Yong. She talks about brewing soups, typical in Guangdong, especially now as autumn dries the air. She fondly recalls making snow pear and Fritillaria pork bone soup thrice weekly before Yong’s marriage—but I don’t like its peculiar sweet-salty mix, Yong tells me. I’m not a fan of clashing tastes—mango chili repels me, and Korean Stir-Fried Rice Cakes are just bearable. I try to endear myself to Popo, knowing she likely blames me for our childless four years. Truth be told, I’m not ready for motherhood’s weight. So, I express eagerness to sample her famed soup and Coca-Cola chicken wings on our next Shenzhen trip, tactfully delayed to dodge her scolding. By noon, I’m reviving last night’s rice into a makeshift fried dish. My fingers betray my veggie-deficient diet. My go-to’s are instant noodles, microwaved sweet potatoes, or this quick fried rice—easy lunches for my solo workdays at home, saving real cooking for Yong’s return. I muse over Popo’s potential judgments. Does our casual approach to food render me an unworthy wife and mother? Or does my divergence from her traditional maternal mold make me the allure that captured Yong? I share on WeChat about my childhood staple—Mom’s lean meat and veggie porridge, and she would cook it most days throughout the year because she loves the symphony of soft grains, tender meat, and crisp veggies. I coax Yong into the chat, hoping to diffuse the mother-son strain. He’s bitter, remembering his solitary, impoverished childhood, and vows not to subject a child to our unstable finances. The old belief—more kids, more fortune—still prevails among the older generation, I tell him, wondering if childless couples indeed live blissfully, as some claim, if I should prep garlic pork ribs, or just fry some frozen chicken, waiting in the freezer.