Roy Lo

Have you ever thought about why you work so hard every day? What drives you to wake up early and stay up late perfecting your work? Is it for fortune, fame, or to prove yourself to someone else? These were the answers I had before.

I grew up in a traditional Taiwanese family. My parents were great, providing financial stability and guidance. However, they overemphasized my academic performance and hinted every decision making in my life, from my major to my girlfriend, to my career. I was once the body who followed every instructions because it seemed to make everyone happy.

Until one day, I found myself extremely unhappy and lacking motivation. I decided to start my own company, not because I thought I could change the world, but to prove I could succeed on my own. In 2015, I began working on projects with my girlfriend, Judy.

Fast forward to 2019, Judy and I were married, and she was eight months pregnant. Our first startup was a disaster, but our second project was turning around. At that time, we were physically and mentally exhausted from the four years of ups and downs. We didn’t even have a wedding because work was our top priority.

One morning, Judy and I woke up to find there’s water keep flowing out from her body. Her water had broken without any sign. We immediately took a taxi to hospital. The taxi driver’s expression when we got out, having soaked the back seat, is still vivid in my memory. I bet that driver could also share a good story here.

In the emergency room, we quickly learned that without amniotic fluid, the baby was at risk of suffocation. Since Judy was nearly 33 weeks pregnant, the baby’s lungs were not fully developed. The doctor suggested keeping the baby in the womb as long as possible and using medication to accelerate lung development.

On the first night, a belt was strapped around Judy’s waist to monitor the baby’s heartbeat, emitting a constant beeping sound. That beeping was like a scary movie soundtrack, except I was the only one jumping up when the beeping sound stopped.

“Don’t worry, the baby just moved,” the nurse said briefly.

Internally, I was yelling, “How can I not be worried?!” But externally, I said, “Oh cool cool cool cool, can you fix it?”

We spent the entire night repeated the conversation again and again, and each time we heard the beeping, we could relax a bit. On the late second night, the doctor told us it was best not to wait any longer. A team of nurses wheeled Judy into the operating room, and I sat down outside, feeling helpless and worried.

If I close my eyes, I can still feel the freezing cold air outside the operating room, the bright lights, the unique smell of hospital disinfectant. I prayed to any gods I knew, despite not believing in any. I texted a few close friends who believe in those gods, so they could helped to pray for me. I felt guilty for not preparing for the delivery sooner—I hadn’t even thought of a name for our daughter. ‘Hey you!’ didn’t seem appropriate for a father.

That was the moment I realized the most important things in my life. Not becoming a millionaire, not gaining fame, not proving myself to anyone. Nothing mattered except staying with the people I love, helping them through difficulties, and creating better life experiences.

A minute waiting out there felt like a year. I kept staring at the operating room door.

Boom! The door opened, and a few nurses pushed an incubator out. I finally saw my daughter. The nurse told me she was 4.2 pounds. My first impression was how small she was, but I was absolutely sure she was the most beautiful baby in the world.

Because of her health conditions, she needed to stay in the ICU for a few weeks. Judy and I could only visit her at specific times, hold her, and let her know she wasn’t alone in the incubator.

We eventually named her Yu-Hsi, which means giving hope to someone in Chinese. Her birth gave me a new purpose in life and helped me discover many important things.