It has been 3 weeks since my graduation. It’s nearly 4 months since my miscarriage.

Time is an interesting thing. Some people found themselves never have enough of it. But some ‘take’ it as a way to heal.

The excitement from the commencement has wind down. Visiting family members have returned home. Vacation is over. All folks are back to their daily routine.

So what is MY daily routine now? I no longer need to check my calendar for group meeting. I have no paper to write…I got no TA session to attend.

The weather has been so beautiful here. Even I walk my dog for almost an hour per day, the summer breeze makes everyone so relaxing and comfortable. Oh yes, the summer breeze!! Isn’t what I was yearning for during my recovery? I remember I was screaming for sun light and summer breeze while I was lying on my bed, feeling hopeless.

And there we go, the summer breeze is welcoming me home! The universe has granted all my wishes at the most perfect timing. Just when I am trying to figure out my ‘daily routine’, it gives me something I almost forgot…something I’ve asked for during the darkest time.

I don’t know what my daily routine should be for the time being. But I do know there’s something I ought to learn after graduation – learning how to LIVE again. Learning to be present and be grateful.

Disbelief.

A week from now, I will gain a new title: Harvard Alumni. But what exactly does that mean?

3 weeks ago, I was anxious and nervous about the progress of all my projects and deadlines. I thought I would be at ease as soon as I submitted my last paper of my academic year. But after going through numerous job interviews, the fear has just began.

I don’t like any of the companies I’ve been talking to. I don’t even like the idea of being employed. After working for more than 15 years, rolling my sleeves doing the most impossible, there are folks out there who still think that you deserve to be their front soldiers. All they want is to smoke the cigar in their corner office while having you to be their best ‘project manager’, putting off fire for them.

I am not even wasting my time telling them they are racist, sexist living in a bubble called ‘bias’.

At the last lecture, professor said “the toughest work isn’t here (classroom). The toughest job is OUT there.”

The fear I am getting isn’t about me being ‘unemployed’. My fear comes from the fact that I’m finally stepping out of my comfort zone and starting my own venue.

After all these years of unconfidence and self-doubts, I now choose to fulfill the vow I made to my child, that is “I’ll put my happiness and comfort above all”.

Though the future is unknown, I know that I’m being truth to myself. I vow not to disvalue myself.

Commencement is exactly 3 weeks away. I am excited but feeling surreal at the same time.

Between now till next week, I have 2 papers to submit, 2 on campus presentations and a final. I keep thinking “what if my flight to Boston got stuck somewhere?” “what if I didn’t make it to campus?” “what if I blew the whole presentation?”

It has been 3 years since I started the program. Some friends of mine didn’t expect me to get into Harvard. Even now, a friend didn’t believe I was about to walk the commencement in a few weeks.

And now I look back, I have to pat myself on the back. These 3 years hasn’t been easy but I did it.

I might just need to stop popping the ‘what if’ Qs…and enjoy my last trip to Boston before this semester ends.

I was away for a week from home to be with families and closed friends. It was probably one of the best decisions I made in life. As always, listening to your gut would never fail you.

I am back home.  Back to the reality that I need to face. To the job interviews that I’ve been going to the projects that I need to initiate / wrap up in order to graduate (next month).

Just like many miscarriage mommies, reality is tough. The toughest part isn’t about seeing others getting pregnant, the toughest part is how to deal with the time when you’re completely alone.

You pretty much want to re-live the time when all your cycles were regular. As brutal as the reality is, there’re always signs to show you that you’re indeed still in recovery.

This could only be understood by women how have gone through miscarriage.

I have learned not to to be angry and judgmental to all comments I received. Deep down, it is hard to understand what we all have gone through. Sometimes I wonder if the universe wants to throw a curve ball to test me  prior to graduation. The toughest isn’t really coming from the academic subject itself. The toughest is how I choose to deal with situation and how I navigate through all these scenarios.

I just want to tell you that I am still in recovery. And if you have any expectation for me, PLEASE BACK OFF.

No offense. I will still be respectful to you regardless of your education level, social status, gender whatsoever.

I just don’t know how long this recovery will last. May be in a few months or may be it will never end.

While the media and society pay a lot of attention on postpartum depression, Journal of the American Medical Association claimed that the major depressive disorders are more common in women who suffer from miscarriage.

The common myth of post miscarriage depression is that people often assume the pain and grief would ‘fade away’ after the regular schedule is resumed and/or when women become pregnant again.

My humble opinion is that…yon can’t assume things are over unless you’re fully honest about your feeling. There are things imprinted in your memory that nothing will make it go away.

I was depressive and suicidal  as a teen. I’d been through the cycle of depression. I’ve seen the darkest of the darkest.

It all seems too familiar. The hopeless, sadness and loneliness were all too overwhelming to me that the idea of ending my life across my mind just a few nights ago.

I recognize this process. I’ve been there before. I should not let myself go down this path like I used to.

So I decided to take a brief medical leave. I deserve to be surrounded by families and allow my body and mind to rest.

Despite school schedule and homework, I’ll need this medical leave before I can stand again.

It has been exactly a month since my child left me (physically).

A month felt like a year. I felt like my mind and soul have been dragged by emotional pain and heartache. I am like a boat that is slowly sinking.

Just exactly 2 months ago, I left Boston. That was the happiest day in life. I survived a J-term. I became the top 6 student in class AND I had 2 heart beat in my body.

Exactly a month ago, I was on a surgery table waiting to be wheeled to the operational room.

We have literally experienced life and death in 30 days. I lost hope eternally and instantly.

I thought school could at least get my mind off things…but it’s getting tougher and tougher.

I don’t know what’s the real purpose for me to run 3 group projects. I lost interest sitting in the classroom and listening to stranger’s presentation.

Exactly 2 more months to graduation. It felt like I have to crawl for 2 more years to the finish line.

I have “Lean In Supporter” as part of my LinkedIn title.

I’ve been supporting the message and notion by Lean In as early as it started. But the incident of losing my first child really makes me rethink my personal belief and …literally everything.

Here’s a quote I keep in my home office:

“20 years from now you will be more disappointed by things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do…” by Mark Twain.

The reason I posted it on my wall was intended to be a reminder of my own aspiration. I wanted to climb up the ladder, have more ‘skin in the game’, and/or being able to start my own project one day and to make some (+) changes.

Till I became pregnant, everything changed. My own focus was shifted to protecting my own child and building a family with the love of my life, my husband.

It was so intimate, so full of purposes and so tangible. It might slow down my career plan but that doesn’t matter to me anymore.

And when I lost its heart beat, when I knew I wouldn’t be able to meet this child in person, I began to wonder what will eventually make me regret 20 years later….

The truth that my husband might never become a father would be my biggest disappointment and even guilt in my lifetime.

But I hate to have “trying to conceive” as my ‘life priority’ now as it will add emotional and physical pressure to me and to us. I am not brave and courageous enough like others, who could bear multiple losses and still keep their heads up. (No offense to others) But  I still believe that it is supposed to be a joyful, yet stress free journey. And if we let our ‘ego’ take over our relationship, it will just defeat the whole purpose. And that won’t be the life we envision to have.

Yet, I am scare that I’ll eventually and unintentionally let myself to prioritize my career ahead of everything else.

I don’t want to “Lean In” like I used to. I am practically in limbo.

I worked in the healthcare business for more than 15 years. I stand for health equality and women’s health access for all my life. But today, just like the 99% of the American folks, I too was struck by my medical bill.

Like all smart customers, we should have asked about the price and all details before payment. When it comes to life crisis (such as miscarriage and all things related), you don’t have much choices as a patient but to accept the reality.

My DC surgery was considered an outpatient procedure that doesn’t require hospital stay. And I am fortunate to say that my OBGYN did a fabulous job. I didn’t have any infection or serious side effects afterward. She really saved me physically and mentally (without going through additional drama).

I received the bill from the medical group today. To my relief (after insurance coverage/deduction), the leftover balance is about $1000.

But for the record, the whole DC surgery plus the blood tests prior to the procedures are a little over $5000. No joke.

I chose not to take the abortion pill at home because I know for sure..that I won’t be able to deal with the graphic and emotional trauma as seeing my baby passing from my body.

Instead, I opt for the ‘extravagant’ solution. I paid someone (my Dr) to do it for me. When my Dr said “you won’t remember a thing about how it happened. You’ll also bleed less.” I immediately made up my mind.

I am fortunate to have this option. But for many women out there, they have no other choices. Some might not even have health coverage. Just thinking of that….really hurts me.

I still can’t tell you what I will do after my graduation. I honestly don’t know how my degree can make the world a better place…

Yet, I hope we can all stand behind those who continuously fight for women health access. I hope we will never neglect those who need care and comfort.