I had a wonderful hotpot dinner with my regular group of old friends/ ex-colleagues last night. I love hotpot and it is a 'must-do' every time I am in Hong Kong. It was a truly enjoyable evening with good food and great company, and we spent many hours chatting and catching up on each other's lives. (Sadly, my story is still a sob story, no change in that.)
A client/ friend whom I spent most of my day with is around 5 and a half months pregnant and as this is her first pregnancy, she was excitedly sharing with me her pregnancy journey. In case anyone is wondering, yes, I felt rather miserable inside, but I didn't change the topic or stop her cos I felt that it wouldn't be fair to her. When I was expecting Chloe, I was happily telling my pregnancy story to anyone who'd listen. I know that feeling of joy and pride a mother has over her soon to be born baby.
I admired her baby bump, listened to her stories and asked the appropriate questions. Yesterday, I was still rather hopeful that I can have a success story to tell if one of those 3 eggs were successfully fertilised.
Unfortunately, that hopefulness didn't last for long. When I woke up this morning, my whole world came crashing down. I got my period. Right on time too. I seriously am such a failure.
At this moment, I wish that I am back at home with Mark to comfort me rather than sitting alone in some hotel room with a list of conference calls and meetings lined up. For the rest of the day, I still have to put on a happy, smiling face to greet the world as if everthing is alright when it truly is not.
Now it is only a quarter past 10am... is it too early for me to wish that the day is over?
No comments:
Post a Comment