I’ve realized that starting a new job isn’t about diving into what the work demands in those first few days—it’s about wrestling with the question, “Why do I have to stick with this?” “What’s my purpose here?”

I’m doing marketing communications for an agency focused on overseas medical treatment, zeroing in on infertility right now. They’ve got a clear mission: making patients’ journeys abroad for care smooth, safe, and effective. The company’s got a solid customer focus, a clear path forward. But me, the newbie who just snagged this role? I picked it because I needed a job, something concrete for my life, that’s all.

The first three days, I threw myself into research—wading through a swamp of info, legit and sketchy alike. From the chaotic chatter in every language on Web forums to the so-called “objective” voices on V., E., and beyond. By the end of the day, chatting with my boss, I was still lost. Why was I sitting in this office, facing this super sensitive, hush-hush issue, doing… what? I could’ve taken that higher-paying offer I had some experience for instead.

I didn’t know where to start. Healthcare? Communications? Clueless on both. Press relations—what’s that? Community outreach—huh? Infertility—what even is it? Why’s it so common? Why do people need me to do jack when the internet’s drowning in info already? Vietnam’s number one in IVF, right? So why the heck am I here???

A million questions spun in my head. That chair was getting real hot under me.

Then, that afternoon, I read a friend’s story. It hit me how agonizing that journey is. I knew it’s not something people easily open up about, but I couldn’t grasp how brutal it gets. Yet here are these “healers” profiting off people’s fear and longing. No wonder folks flock overseas for treatment. No wonder they try everything—scammed or not, no info portals in sight—just to cross that border where, even without blood ties, they’re treated with respect, trust, and something worth their money.

And then it clicked: I could be one of those women someday. How many years from now? No clue, but it’s possible. So what I’m doing now is building something bigger—making my voice heard, ensuring those women get respect, access to clear, honest info, not some coddled shield for our healthcare system’s selfish, greedy pockets.

Short-term, this agency’s sending our money abroad. Long-term, though, if no one leaves and comes back, how will those lines of women—psychologically tortured, stuck with begging-like services, bribing left and right—realize they deserve better? They’re worth the deepest joy of womanhood, not endless rounds of shots, physical and emotional pain, plus extra mental strain that could be eased if our country opened up and shared real info.

Day three, after reading her post, I found my mission. A mission to soothe invisible pain so mothers can hold their babies soon—here or abroad.

I’d doubted I’d survive the probation period. Even if I don’t, these two months, I’ll at least crack open the info flow, amplify the voices of moms and doctors across borders, and clarify medical options for new choices.

With that goal, even if I flunk this job, I’ll be content knowing I helped a little in my short stint :).

The world’s round. It’s rare to find something that excites me like working with kids back in the day :).