My wife and I have been married for three years. During these three years, she has longed to have a child, often talking about wanting to experience motherhood. But fate seems to love playing tricks on us; her belly remains flat, like the calm surface of West Lake, without a ripple. Actually, I know in my heart that her wish will probably never come true. Out of male pride, I have kept a cruel truth from her—I have been given a medical "death sentence" and am infertile. Over the years, I have visited major hospitals all over the country, only to receive the same cold shoulder.
