(1998, near Damascus, Syria) -- This blood test will tell us: pregnant or not.
We’re hoping for a 10 or higher on some hormone level. We get a 7 -– not a “no” but not a “yes.” We’re told to come for another blood test in 4 days.
I begin dreaming. I see my baby. My body feels tremendously nurturing, and I have a knowing that I am pregnant. All is well. I am told by an inner voice to dare to hope. In these four days, I allow myself to do so, although I have always been a pessimist.
So I am incredibly pissed, after being fantastically shocked, that the second blood test shows there is no longer a pregnancy. There is anger at my body, at God, at my own intuition. It takes me years to work through.
I hang up on my sisters and mom when they call me in Syria to console. I am inconsolable. It feels the grief and anger will consume me. If not for teaching, I might have willed my broken heart to stop beating.
I never go back to the clinic or call the doctor.
I begin to have paranoid thoughts that once I was anesthetized, they never really did retrieve an egg or transfer an embryo. And that the "sperm + egg = embryo" action we saw on the monitor was just stock footage.