I first started writing this piece on Aug 21st, 2023, two weeks after miscarriage.
Miscarriage is a strange, lonely experience. It happened on a Sunday, 2 weeks into my new job. I took Monday off and went to hospital, then went back to work the next day. I think subcounsciously I was trying to tell myself it was no big deal. For a week, every afternoon I had hot flash -- I would turn red, and felt very hot.
Later I would learn Steve and I attributed different reasons to the miscarriage. For the longest time I thought it must have been the allotment trip that afternoon that tired me out, and Steve would blame my coffee intake (and went on to ruthlessly and perhaps unnecessarily regulate my coffee intake throughout this pregnancy). It was not until much later that we learned when a positive test showed up really late in the cycle -- which was the case -- 80% of the time it meant the DNAs were wrong.
It's both funny and sad how humans desperately try to attribute "causes", however absurd they might be, to things we can't comprehend or control. To this day, I still blame my impulsive decision to upgrade our return flight for Heisenberg's sudden death on that same morning, and Steve blames himself for not deciding to return home one day earlier. We would probably carry these to our graves.
Very few talks about miscarriage publicly. However almost every time I told a woman about my miscarriage, I would hear a similar story in return. Sometimes I walk in the street and watch all the strangers passing by, and wonder how many of them carry untold stories like that.
Trying to conceive is also a strange, lonely experience. We were so naive and thought we had everything planned out. We said to ourselves we would focus on career first, then family. That October 2 years ago, both of us got the promotion we wanted, and we started trying merrily. Little did we know that journey would take over a year, with a layoff (which meant no more cushy 12 months maternity leave for me) and a miscarriage in between. I remember congratulating Steve's sister in law during Christmas, who got married and pregnant within 6 months. I was smiling but was extremely bitter.
In January 2024, I switched my GP from a local surgery to one in central London. This was a tip from my neighbour who went through IVF: the NHS IVF policy vary by GP areas. The policy is notoriously difficult where we live (3 years of trying, and miscarriage counts as a successful attempt), but in central London they have a much more lenient policy. The day I switched GP, that night I got home and watched youtube videos on IVF nonstop. I then started sobbing. I realised I was actually not ready, and perhaps not as brave as I thought. I was...pretty scared.
The same month, I got pregnant again. We joke between ourselves that we made so many changes in
January:
switched GP,
did a HyCosy, bought a car, started taking way more supplements, even switched to a "sperm
friendly lube" that
someone up there finally believed that we
really
want a child, and approved our
application.
Whatever actually happened, I am very grateful.
Why do I want children?
Steve gives really simple answers. "Our child will be so cute combining our genes!"
It's harder for me to explain. I thought about this a lot during the first trimester. And strangely, what eventually emerged is a picture, like a scene in a movie: I really want to see a tiny human sitting on Steve's shoulders, eyes wide open, curious, and carefree.
One summer when we were both at my parents' place, and my mom was showing Steve some old pictures. There was one picture where a tiny me was in bed, and my dad was lying next to me, watching me, with all the happiness in the world. At that moment it struck me that even though neither of us grew up in the most abundant families, what's most important, and what probably shaped both of us, is we both grew up loved. Growing up loved is an infinite power source that have powered, and will continue to power all the exploration we do for the rest of our lives.
And I want to pass that love on.
The world is a fairly messed up place: Humans seem to never get tired of killing each other; too many animals are hurting; too many stupid people with power that they really shouldn't have.
But also in this world, 2 weeks after I landed in London from Bangkok, I met someone who was born half an earth away from where I was born (I am like 99.9% sure we are the only Buffalo-Ningbo couple in the world). At that time, after 29 years of being alone, I had given up the hope that someone would like me, let alone love me. I had come into peace with the fact that I am wired a bit differently, and frankly a bit too weird for most people.
Well guess what, Steve is also wired differently! :)
Bringing a life into this world without their consent is ultimately a very selfish decision. I will be honest that a large part of the reason is because I would like to experience the love and joy of building a family of my own. If I am to do some selling, despite how messed up the world is, there is still love to be found and experienced. And that's what makes the ride worthwhile in my opinion.
Steve and I have been working extremely hard towards a goal for a long time: we want to work for oursevles within 10 years. At first, it was because both of us were tired of playing the corporate ladder climbing game; now it's because we want to be fully present in the shaping years of our children, and in this noisy world, we believe that is the only way to do it.
I did struggle with this decision for quite some time: it's really difficult to give up something that are perceived as "prestigious", and you also happen to be decent at it. I don't know what finally tipped the balance for me, perhaps it's the feeling of loss after miscarriage, but suddenly a lot of things matter much less, and I for the first time in life see so clearly that we only have this ride once, so it's important to figure out what you truly value and treasure.
(Steve did not care a single bit, he said he will run a barcade[0] and has been preparing since. God I love his fierce disdain towards elitism.)
And part of the reason I wanted to write this down is because when our kids grow up, they will find their parents a slightly boring couple running a farm and a barcade. I want them to know their parents were badass, and are still badass. We were at the top of our fields professionally. But more importantly, we take immense pride in what we do, and we choose our own path in life.
Today we welcome our first child, Luci, into this world. I hope you live an honest, kind, and independent life, and enjoy the ride.
Be a light in the world.
BTW Luci, your dad has promised to make sure you are into classic video games such as.... Resident Evil and Metroid. You probably will get bullied at school for being "nerdy" like that as a result. But you know what, both of your parents spent their school years being bullied pretty bad, so we have loads of anti-bully experience. Don't worry.
^ 这是什么地狱笑话
[0] A "barcade", is a combination of Steve's two favourite things (after me I suppose): a cocktail bar, and a video game arcade. He does have both the cocktail making skills and the video game collection to run a decent barcade. The main challenge he's facing and working through now is how many arcade games I allow him to have (these things are fucking gigantic!)