Jea Dreams Of

When I imagined the space where my son would take his first naps, hear his first lullabies, and begin to understand the world, I knew it had to be more than just a nursery. It had to be a reflection of our family’s story—a blend of cultures, creativity, and deep love. This blog post shares the intentional design behind our Filipino-Chinese-inspired nursery and how it became a heartfelt expression of motherhood, heritage, and the dreams I carry into building LAROWAN and raising our son.

It’s been 10 weeks since my baby is born and I finally have a moment to sit down and type out my thoughts without my koala-baby attached to me.

Beside me is my banana iced latte that I made with Blue Bottle’s Instant Craft Espresso Nola blend & oatmilk, ice already melted and the view of my baby monitor as I watch my son. Last night, I woke up at 2:17 am to find my husband lying on the nursery recliner, Echo (our dog) on his dog bed, and Theo in his crib. I took a moment to breathe in the stillness of the night as I placed a hand on my baby’s chest – the maternal instinct to check for his breathing. Life has changed for me in the past few weeks. It’s in this nursery where my boys are now finding sleep & comfort, that I also dreamt about what life would be like with a family.

It’s with these thoughts that I looked around and expressed gratitude on the Manila & Hong Kong posters that hung on the left wall. How I silently thanked the Filipino-woven marine baby mobile that hung above the crib & the comfortable nursery chair that my husband is sleeping in. This room held everything that I love – my husband, my son, my dog, my Filipino culture and the Chinese culture that I’m learning to continue to embrace.

Putting this room together meant more than painting the walls sage green because it’s aesthetically pleasing, or furnishing with wood accents because interior designs on Pinterest are filled with neutral-themed nurseries. This was me expressing my love to provide a bigger world for my son – for him to know that he gets to experience being American, Filipino and Chinese and the combination of everything else in between.

It’s a promise that he’ll be hearing Tagalog & Cantonese from us; that he gets to enjoy eating delicious Chinese and Filipino home cooked meals by his Lola, Lolo, Ma Ma and Ye Ye by eating with his chopsticks & hands; that he will always have a family to visit in those cities; that he’ll have friends & relatives to learn our rich culture from; that he will grow up in a home where traditions, culture, & history is lived every day.

Every detail in this nursery was chosen with intention. The rattan fan reminded me of afternoons napping in my grandparent’s bahay kubo in Silang. The Kantarines Stripes weave pillowcases (that I sewed myself)—woven with care by artisans back home—weren’t just decorative. They were a gentle reminder to my son that his roots were built by people who made beauty from their hands and history. And the Hong Kong poster and Chinese language books are spoken promises of adventure & excitement of learning.

This nursery became my quiet rebellion against invisibility & forgetting. It’s a space where cultural heritage is not a lesson that you’ll see lightly mentioned on history books—it’s lived in. Felt. It’s not loud or overstated, but it’s present in the details. And in this sacred, sleepy corner of our home, I started to understand how becoming a mother doesn’t mean letting go of who I am—it deepens it. It stretches the definition of love into something even more layered, creative, and brave. It’s my way of showing, this is who I am. You are a part of it and it is a part of you.

And maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to do with LAROWAN (my new small business adventure that highlights AANHPI artisans & curating unique products) all along—build something playful, meaningful, and rooted. Through this little brand of handmade joy, I’ve explored how creativity can connect culture, how stories can be worn, gifted, lived.

And as I pass my days & nights holding my baby and swaying in that nursery chair, I feel a quiet promise form inside me: to continue building a world where he can see me show up fully—as a mother, yes—but also as a maker, a dreamer, a bridge between generations.

Because if I can teach him anything, I want it to be this: you don’t have to choose between your identities. You can hold them all. Just like this room does.