Tag Archives: negative


Published / by Kim / 3 Comments on Escape

Friday night, I think Scott was afraid he was going to have to hide my passport. I was thisclose to catching a cab to JFK and hopping on a plane to London. I picked London because it seemed like the shortest flight that would get me off this continent. It was a fairly serious threat, to go with him or without him.

I felt like I needed to get out. To leave everything behind and just go. I think I had a feeling in my gut that, if I could just run far enough, I could leave all the hurt and sadness and my broken heart behind me. It wouldn’t really have worked, of course, but the change of scenery couldn’t have hurt.

In lieu of taking off on a short, last minute trip to England, Scott and I had a “what the fuck” moment. As a result of that, we’re throwing all caution to the wind, forgetting about being broke, and going to the Isle of Skye in September. We plan to be there for the Autumnal Equinox. We’ll fly into Edinburgh, spend the night, then drive to Skye, where we’ll stay for a week. We’re debating staying in a B&B or a “self-catering” cottage, but leaning more toward the cottage. Either way, we should be able to stay for the week for about $800. The car rental appears to be pretty cheap, too, although I know gas is a lot more expensive overseas than it is in the U.S. The big expense will be airfare, of course, and that’s where we’re saying “fuck it.”

Scott and I will have been together for 13 years on September 27. In those 13 years, we’ve taken exactly one extended vacation together with it just being the two of us, and that was our honeymoon. Yes, we’ve taken long weekends, and weeks with our families, but not a whole week where it’s just us. The allure of escaping together, to a place that may as well be the end of the earth, has an appeal that can’t be resisted. So we’re going.

I’m ridiculously excited. I’m already planning what to pack and making lists of guide books to pick up next time I go book shopping. We plan to hike as much of the island as we can, so we’re going to start walking daily and going for hikes every weekend to get fit enough to do this trip the way we want. It’s still 7 months away, but I’m looking forward to this so much.


Published / by Kim / 11 Comments on Negative

I wrote this a few days after this cycle’s transfer. It was sort of stream of consciousness, but if I got a positive, I was going to clean it up a little and use it as my first post in a new category entitled “Fertile & Hopeful.” The counter to the current category of “Barren & Bitter.”

I got the call from the clinic about half an hour ago, and the result was negative. I don’t have much to say right now, but I thought I’d post this to get it out of my drafts. It shows how high my hopes were for this cycle, which should give you an idea of how far down at the bottom I am right now.

You were transferred back into my body on the coldest day of winter. As I dressed to leave the house, to go receive you back into my care, I wrapped myself up as carefully as I could. I chose the most comfortable clothing I had that was still fit for public viewing. (Left to my own devices at home, I’m most likely to choose something like a t-shirt and yoga pants. If you stick around, you’ll learn this.) I wanted to drape myself in softness and comfort, to pamper my outer body as I hoped my inner body would pamper and nurture you.

When I reached the doctor’s office, I waited and waited in the waiting room for it to be my turn. Papa arrived and we waited together. When we were finally called back to the procedure room, he stood by my head and tightly held my hand while the doctor did his work. When the doctor was done, we were left alone for a while, so you could adjust to your new environment. Papa and I talked and talked while we waited, holding hands and laughing softly as we discussed our dreams and hopes for you.

As I write this, I don’t know if you’re still in there. I hope you are. I hope you’re tucked safely into position, getting ready to start growing, getting ready to eventually accept the life of a new soul entering you and quickening you. I still won’t know for a week whether or not you’re still there.

I hope you are.