My boyfriend and I thought we were ready to start a family one day when I was thirty.The hope that comes with each sex has raised our expectations. When I made my pretty foolish forecast that this time would succeed, he would say he did his best. After that, we would shower together. After that, we went grocery shopping together. On the drive to the grocery store, we would talk about how to raise our child to avoid being as much of a pain in the ass as those misbehaving kids from the neighborhood's primary school playground. Naturally, we both decided to follow the Dutch. As if we couldn't stand to lose another person to the Chinese educational system. I would want a boy or a girl to be my child at different periods. I could worry that she would act like a daughter, just like her mother, if she were a girl. I would let him to be the neighborhood's most mischievous kid if he were a guy. My boyfriend would sigh with deep resignation when he heard that.

But our hope dwindled the more we tried. If heaven had a traffic bottleneck, our angel might be stuck in it. We finally went to the doctor for a referral to a fertility expert after a year and a half of trying. Admitting that we might have a chance to never have children had been difficult.  I had painted a vivid picture in my mind—of joyful parents, bedtime stories, and even the courage to face a sick child. Never once did I imagine a life without children. Watching close friends effortlessly embrace parenthood only deepened my ache, especially knowing some lacked the maturity I believed I possessed. Being a mom seemed like something I could accomplish with ease, like lighting a candle. Perhaps, I thought, I was naïve, just like those others.

It would be accurate to describe me as a professional daughter. Since I had closely examined my mother's teaching methods and had studied her, I honestly believed it made me a qualified mother. I've compiled a list of dos and don'ts over the course of three decades. The theory has been studied in depth. According to my plan, I could be a fantastic mother regardless of empirical evidence. Of course, there will be hiccups along the way.

I am determined to be an excellent mother, no matter the challenges. I pray fervently for the chance to prove myself, promising God that I will be perfect if only given the opportunity. We are undoubtedly not the only couple facing this struggle, based on the length of the fertility center's waiting list. How depressing! As we wait for the first consultation, the desperation increases daily. At night, clasping the Buddha pendant in my hand, I whispered prayers for relief, begging silently for someone, anyone, to end this torment.  

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