Mamdouh wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“We searched for every one of them,” he said.
“And we will keep looking after them,” I replied.
For the first time since the delivery, I felt something close to peace.
The mystery had not been supernatural. There had been no invisible child hiding beyond the reach of science and no impossible secret that required a miracle to explain it.
There had been frightened parents, exhausted medical workers, incomplete records, and a doctor who had chosen to conceal his mistakes instead of admitting them.
That truth was painful enough.
Months later, when our nine babies were finally home, our house became louder than I had ever imagined. There were bottles on the kitchen counter, blankets in every room, and a never-ending parade of relatives eager to help.
Mamdouh learned to prepare several bottles at once. I learned that I could recognize my children’s different cries even when I was half asleep.
