ABSTRACT
I had six miscarriages in less than three years. In retrospect, this seems to be a physical impossibility. Although each miscarriage stands starkly alone in my mind, having six of them in such a short span of time produced a cumulative effect. Each presented me with peculiar challenges and carried its own unique message. On each occasion, I was in a different hospital either in America or in Israel, with different doctors and different walls to witness my misery. It was natural to begin getting that deja vu feeling, ‘Haven’t I been here before?’ Yet, when I looked around, I was forced to admit that – ‘No, I had never been here before’. Looking back, it seems as if each miscarriage demanded its own identity, its own space in my brain. Each refused to be lumped together with the others.
