Fragments, 7

I come out of the white stall, one of about six or seven other stalls in a long strip. It is quiet. Before me a large mirror spans the length of the bathroom. There is one sink for each stall. I take a few steps forward to my designated sink. I reach for the faucet but get distracted by a slow movement in the mirror. It is the slow movement of the stall door swinging open behind me. There, where I was, she stands in her white gown, her hair as messy and black as the last time I saw her. I yell at her to go away. She does not blink. Her eyes, fixed on me, do not change.

I wake up.

~

When I first saw her, she wore her long white gown. The vision of her floating above me after she yanked off my blanket, the stare of her round determined eyes. Did she wake me to tell me or did I wake to her words, I want your baby? It felt more the latter.

That nightmare occurred a few days after two fresh embryos were transferred into my uterus, the day before my first pregnancy blood test. We had spent over fifteen thousand dollars and underwent a tedious detailed step-by-step routine plan for this first in vitro cycle with the fresh embryos. We froze two other embryos for later.

The numbers for my hCG levels come back as 5 and then 9. These numbers were not high enough. They should have been 10 and 20, doubling every other day. I do another blood test and the results came back 0.

~

Six months later, we do a second embryo transfer using the two frozen embryos.

I am combing my hair getting ready for work. While I comb my hair, she appears in the mirror staring at me as me. I wake up.

Mama comes over to keep me company. I had placed myself on bed rest so that the embryos may have a better chance of implantation. Mama sits across from me doing her cross-stitching. On the couch, I lie. Fatigue closes my eyes. The doorbell rings. Mama gets up to open the door. I remind her that the front door is not to be opened, “Use the garage door, Mama.” “Oh, it’s just your dad,” she says. Something flutters at my left ear like the wings of a butterfly. I wake up. Mama is there in front of me doing her cross-stitching. “Did you hear something, Mama?” She looks up at me, “I didn’t hear anything.”

A few days later, I complete another round of pregnancy blood tests. The results are negative.