It was a perfect sunny day in September. You know that kind of September day; a warm day as the last bits of summer that make the transition to fall a bit easier. There was a nice breeze and clear blue sky as people went about enjoying a nice comfortable late summer day in New York.
And yet, it felt like I just got hit by a big, cold, angry downpour and the never ending rain is hitting us right in the face.
It was the day when my husband and I had been told by my fatherly, sympathetic doctor that we would have to find an egg donor if we ever wanted to have a baby. Case closed, next!
Before this conversation, I went through four miscarriages, thousands of painful injections - well, maybe this is an exaggeration but for a girl who doesn't like needles, it felt like it - and countless doctor's appointments. I had a long list of daily healthy routine habits written on my fridge. It was a "what to eat, to drink, what to avoid, what to do things" list to increase the chances of getting pregnant. You thought of it, yes, we have tried it!
The word broken-hearted was an understatement at this point. I also felt betrayed. By my own body and mind. In my mind, I was so sure that I'd get pregnant, have a baby and be busy finding summer camp in no time.
I felt betrayed by my own body when, after 9 weeks of pregnancy, what felt like a big neon sign appeared saying "just kidding!" when the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat.
Four times! Four times this happened.
So instead of (read: after) crying, sobbing, feeling like a loser, pathetic, and sorry for my self, my husband and I decided to.....
Ride a bike.
Yes, we'd ride about 30 miles almost every weekend, going places. Just ride.
If it was raining, I'd then go to cycling class and sweat.
I also started to contact my long lost cousins and friends in Indonesia that I hadn't spoken to for a long time. I wanted to get in touch again, to listen to their stories. I also called my mom often, spent more time with friends, meditated more, prayed more, and helped others by volunteering more.
Then I started to realize that I was so cooped up in my dreams and hopes of having a baby that I forgot to enjoy what surrounds me. I neglected to appreciate what I actually have - I forgot to enjoy life.
I finally I began to accept things as they were. Accept what I can't change, accept who I am, accept my life as it is (or rather, was). Then I started to enjoy myself more, enjoy my quiet breakfasts, my 8 hours of sleep, movie nights, talking to my brother and laughing hard.
And just like that, a little baby Mason joined our world without us trying hard, without me feeling sorry and pathetic.
He has brought a rainbow after the storm.