I think I’ve finally succeeded. In letting go. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for it to happen, and being miserable just because it’s not happening. I did everything I could do. Voilà.
I even managed to invite a pregnant friend, and be okay with looking at her big belly and caring husband all evening. I didn’t have an emotional breakdown when the second birth announcement in one week’s time arrived in the mail today. But I did read an article about the fact that you should freeze your eggs before you’re 35, “because then they’re still fine”. So, one year left to surrender my future to sub-zero temperatures. Start preparing for your polar expedition guys (or girls?).
In the meantime, instead of waiting for a miracle, I’ve decided to just enjoy life. (Rocket science, isn’t it?). In the last month, I’ve spent more quality time with friends than in the past year, and I’m still trying to burn some calories in the girly gym. I realize I have the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want. There’s no (cute) life-long responsibility holding me back. I can be deliciously selfish, without feeling guilty about it. I guess that’s just what happens when your patience is way over its expiration-date. I’m on a “me-trip”, and enjoying every minute of it.
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