You got to be kidding me? I know…At some points, I have to stop telling myself that I will be pregnant again.

This is a complicated post. If you think I am talking non-sense here, please feel free to close this browser and walk away. No judgement. What I am going through is what a lot of women going through, yet people rarely talk about it. I understand that a cute newborn baby picture (or ultrasound) is far more popular than a negative pregnancy test. At the end, people (boys and girls) tend to believe that getting pregnant is as easy as ordering takeout through door dish – press ‘order’ and boom! Congrats Mr & Mrs X, welcome to parenthood!!

When you were a kid, anyone would tell you that success is a matter of how hard you try. (No…even at every single college graduation commencement…they said the same old thing…) So shame on me! I became the firm believer that I fall short of getting an A or a better performance eval because I didn’t try hard enough. How come no one ever came to me and said “hey kid, guess what? Even if you try hard and risk everything for something you want it so badly, you might not get it. So suck it up!”

I wish someone was honest to me about this. So I know I wouldn’t blame myself.

It marked almost the 6th month of me trying. Medically speaking (and by the book), folks at my age are considered ‘infertile’ even with history of pregnancy.

2 days ago, I thought I was pregnant. Even my acupuncturist , , after taking my pulse, said my chance is high. I am few days late and got no signs of mother nature. My temp is as high as Palm Springs in Summer. From a scientific point of view (with every single data collected), my chance of ‘hitting a jackpot’ is higher than ever…I am very compliant, very disciplined; I didn’t do any preg test till I am as close as possible. For the past few days, I skipped coffee, avoided lifting heavy stuff. I stopped running with my dog and went to bed early. I even bought a baby blanket (how silly I am). I felt like there is a team cheering for me as I am reaching the finish line. I thought I am having it this time.

At 6am this morning, I took a deep breath and got tested – It is negative. I managed to hold my tears for a couple mins but ended up breaking down when I reached the dining room. I was watching the sunrise and sobbing (quietly) by myself. I asked “why?”

For the past 8 months, I gave away opportunities where it will take me to different places for career sake. I turned down many social events to give myself downtime. I chose to be home and not to think about my career and/or how to best use of my degree. I chose to seek for ‘motherhood’. I chose to ‘lean out’ because I know it’s all worth it. I am willing to give up all these shinny titles and status to seek for a pregnancy.

Today, I exhausted my resources. I am not sure if I have lost myself but…I have tried. I tried hard. But I want to live, too. You understand? I don’t want to plan my days/weeks/months around my cycle. I don’t want to pity myself every time when I see Aunt Flo coming. I don’t want to blame myself of having cold hands / feet (they believe it will make it hard to fertile). I so want to have a cold drink when it’s 80 degree outside. When I see people at my age keep popping babies, I really want to leave ‘this body’ and see how others live their lives. I have never smoke. I never did drugs. I don’t even drink. I am sure my organs are in pretty good sharp. Yet, I am infertile.

I have enough. I just want to live.

I told myself I need to ‘get up and move forward’. I chose to celebrate my infertility – I took my dog to jog along the lake. I soaked up the sun, despite the wind and chill. I drunk my 1st cup of coffee. I ordered another pumpkin soy latte with my lunch. I bend over to wash my dog.  I lift her up and blow dried her all by myself.

I felt so good doing these all. I taste freedom, although I am in sorrow.

Let’s celebrate infertility.