By Alice Eve Cohen
-O, The Oprah Magazine
Alice Cohen used to be satisfied for the 1st time in years. After a tough divorce, she had a brand new love in her existence, she used to be raising a liked followed daughter, and her occupation was once blossoming. Then she begun experiencing mysterious signs. After months of assessments, x-rays, and inconclusive diagnoses, Alice underwent a CAT test that exposed the reality: she was once six months pregnant.
At age forty-four, with out prenatal care and no insurance for a high-risk being pregnant, Alice used to be besieged through critiques from medical professionals and neighbors approximately what used to be moral, what used to be loving, what used to be correct. With the intimacy of a diary and the suspense of a mystery, What i assumed I Knew is a ruefully humorous, wickedly candid story; a narrative of desire and renewal that turns the entire "knowns" upside down.
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Extra resources for What I Thought I Knew: A Memoir
Sample text
What kind of a mother am I? A monster. “Take the sonogram image home with you. ” It was night when I left the hospital. With a picture of my unborn son hidden in my pocket, I cabbed to Sue’s and assured her I was okay but that I had to talk to Michael before I could tell her the results of the CAT scan. Julia and Adria sat to my left, Julia eating Sue’s elegant meal of veal stew and wild rice in her characteristically messy style, Adria with precociously grown-up manners. Julia, happy to be out late with her friend, didn’t notice that I was too distracted to carry on a coherent conversation, that I couldn’t eat a bite of dinner, that I kept grabbing her hand under the table, like a child afraid of the dark.
When I was thirty and married to Brad, we wanted to have a baby. My period stopped for a year. One doctor said I lost my period because I had recently lost weight. Another insisted I was in menopause at age thirty. A third doctor suspected my fallopian tubes were blocked and sent me for a procedure called a hysterosalpingogram, which hurt like hell and which revealed my deformed uterus—Bicornuate, Latin for two-horned or two-chambered. The deformity was caused by exposure to DES, diethylstilbestrol, the synthetic estrogen my mother took to prevent miscarriage when she was pregnant with me.
When I returned with the yellow rice and black beans, they were sitting on the floor of Julia’s room inventing an elaborate story, which they animated with Julia’s stuffed animals and a talking basket. When he moved in with us a year later, he brought everything he owned: hundreds of books, a crate of handmade masks and puppets, two guitars, and the futon he’d carried with him to the fourteen places he’d lived since graduating from the University of Virginia. In the spring of 1999, Michael and Julia, now eight, are great friends.