Day Eight
Saroya called while I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey, girl. You busy?”
“No,” I said. “Just resting.”
“You sound weird.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? You sound… I don’t know. Off.”
I closed my eyes.
“Just tired from from these harmones.”
Silence on the other end.
Then, “Alright. Well, call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I hung up.
Day Nine
My body felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
Everything ached—my back, my hips, my breasts so tender I couldn’t even hug Mama without wincing.
I was bloated, exhausted, irritable.
And I still had five more days of injections to go.
Day Eleven
I woke up at 3 AM craving pickles and peanut butter.
Not together.
Separately.
But I ate them both standing in front of the open fridge, the cold air washing over my face while Mama’s house creaked and settled around me.
When I climbed back into bed, I couldn’t fall asleep.
I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling my body do things I couldn’t control.
Cramping. Bloating. A strange heaviness in my abdomen that hadn’t been there before.
This was supposed to be simple.
Injections. Egg retrieval. Implantation.
But nothing about this felt simple.
Day Thirteen
