Wednesday, Feb. 07, 2024 @ 2:49 pm
Month five. Negative.
I thought that I would get pregnant in Hawaii. There was time to relax and enjoy each other. We stayed in romantic, secluded hide-aways. One morning, we woke up in a little cottage on a papaya farm, tucked far down a dirt road swathed in vines and low-hanging palm fronds. A rainbow painted over the bed. We made love, and I dreamed of telling my child that she was conceived during a morning rainstorm on a papaya farm in Pāhoa.
This month I hardly tried. He came into my home office on a Wednesday morning to ask me when our window was, and I had to open my chart to check.
“Oh,” I said. “Today. What are you doing at lunch?”