The clinic erased my name from the whiteboard

Dear Delyara, This was our seventh and final round of IVF. The clinic keeps patients’ first names on a whiteboard beside the procedure rooms, written in small blue letters so the nurses know who is next. This morning, I watched a receptionist erase my name after the doctor confirmed that none of our embryos had developed normally. She wiped the board with one quick movement and wrote another woman’s name in the same space. I know the clinic must continue. Other people are still arriving with medication bags, partners carrying coffee, and hope that has not yet learned the layout of every disappointment. My husband held my coat while the doctor explained percentages we had already memorized. In the elevator, he asked whether I wanted to go home or somewhere else. I said home because there is nowhere else designed for the moment when the life you planned stops being medically possible. The nursery we never officially called a nursery is full of unopened boxes and tax documents. Tonight, I sat on the floor there and wrote my name on a scrap of paper. I do not know why. Perhaps I needed to see that it still existed after seven years of allowing clinics to place it beside words like cycle, retrieval, failure, and discharged.