"In Silence"

This is an incredibly moving piece from WNYC's Radiolab: In Silence. Rather than their normal focus on science, this podcast focuses on the idea of silence in the universe, and in that silence where we might find God, and ultimately, faith. Cohost Robert Krulwich offers a reflection and meditation on this concept via two stories: the binding of Isaac upon the mount and the departure of Noah during the flood.

I thought it particularly fitting for Erev Yom Kippur, and at this particular station in my life. Ari and I had listened to this a few months ago, on one of our many treks back and forth to NJ, and I made a mental note at the time to listen to it at the next Yom Kippur, so we listened to it last night again.

It was refreshing, comforting, restoring.

An easy fast this evening, and may you be inscribed for another year.

Looking at things in numbers

So my latest round of thyroid function tests have come back. And once again, my TSH has shot up, so now we're up to 100mcg. I was quite frustrated the other day when I actually went back through this blog and plotted my TSH levels over the last 6 months on a graph. And here they are:


What's particularly frustrating is how much this resembles my BBT chart that I started keeping almost a year ago: peaks, valleys, and no biphasic pattern. Not that my TSH should resemble a biphasic menstrual cycle, but it should appear stabilized.

*sigh*

This has been a rough week for some reason. Nothing in particular has triggered this emotional onslaught, but I am very frustrated with my thyroid, and I've just been very sad this week. What didn't help was calculating exactly how many days it's been since my last period: 281 days. 9 months, 1 week. 40 weeks rounded down. If I had conceived instead of getting a period on 12/20/08, I would be exactly full term today. But we weren't trying, we had no idea about my Dx... it just wasn't in the cards then.

But damn is it hard to realize it's been that long. I really do miss having my period, even the mood swings, the tampons, the cramps - all of it. It marked my sense of time. I'm lucky that I meet with a lovely group of women for a Red Tent Temple at each new moon, and that's helped immensely.

Like I said, it's been a hard week with regard to my IF headsphere. Tomorrow: Yom Kippur. The Days of Awe come to a close, and our fates are sealed for another year. I've sent up my prayers louder than ever this year, so we'll see. On Rosh HaShanah it is Written, and on Yom Kippur it is Sealed.

Good shabbos all.

L'shana tova, 5770

The summer of '69 (5769, that is) is now past, and we welcome in a new Jewish year. Ari and I are pretty relieved that this past year is over, as it was probably the most tumultuous one in our lives. We started the year with me in a new job, a new apartment, and my very odd stroke-esque episode that paved the way for the diagnosis I have now. There was our first anniversary, our first trans-national trip (5 days in California in January), and our first friends to have children. There was Ari's layoff. There were my diagnoses (POF and Hashi's). There were blood tests, and semen analysis, and too many hormones, too little hormones, and scrip after scrip after scrip. We lost our Nan. We hit bottom.

And as this new year begins, we are on the upswing. Ari is starting his own company (of which I will be owner, b/c not only will it then be a woman-owned business, but a minority-woman-owned business), I've essentially got a new job while remaining in the same department, my health has been stabilizing considerably in recent weeks (doc thinks we're *this* close to getting the right dosage for me), and we're heading to Japan for 2 weeks in the middle of October. Things- finally- are looking up for us.

This morning, Ari and I went to Rosh HaShanah services. It's been several years since we had each been to Rosh Hashanah services; we do Kol Nidrei for Yom Kippur every year, but we're almost always traveling for dinner with families and never make it to Rosh HaShanah services. So slap me stupid when the bulk of the Torah and Haftorah portions are the very portions for which the name of this blog derives: the stories of Sarah and Hannah, and they laugh and weep respectively, imploring to God to hear their deepest prayers for a child in their barrenness.

And their prayers are answered. It always seems to work out so neatly in the Torah.

I was not prepared for this at all this morning. The cantor spoke of how Rosh Hashanah is all about beginnings and births, and as he welcomed a Kohein for the first aaliyah, he remarked on how her aaliyah was doubly-blessed, as she was very visibly pregnant. I sat in services, my mind spinning, trying to maintain my composure. "Compartmentalize, Miri, c'mon, you can keep your shit together you can do it." My inner monologue was unrelenting. Did my eyes well up with tears? Did I zone out to my happy place for a few minutes? You bet your sweet bippy I did.

I had an appt with Dr. G yesterday. I explained that we're not financially ready to pursue ART at this point, but said we'd be happy if anything were to happen naturally, magically - miraculously, even. We're going to tweak my dosage one more time, but we think we've pretty much got it figured out. 1 more round of blood tests and I should know by early next week.

As I think of the Jewish new year, I always think of resolutions I make for myself. Every year, I promise to myself to be more Jewish, to be more engaged with my faith. Then I pledge to be a better girlfriend-fiance-wife (as the role has evolved over the years). I truly believe I'm going to get myself healthy- I say it, but I don't necessarily follow through. And this year, these resolutions are the same. But have I added one? Perhaps. Perhaps it's not a resolution, but it's an acknowledgment of that which dwells on my heart. To pray and hope for the next to impossible.

That the Book of Life may inscribe a new paragraph under our story, that like Sarah and Hannah, my supplications are heard and answered. As the year has begun on an upswing, let it continue to rise; that I may hold my head up in hope, in faith, in courage.

A sweet New Year to us all, and may we each be inscribed in the Book of Life for another year.

Remembering 8 Years Ago Today

(This blog is dangerously beginning to teeter on normal, non-themed journaling, but indulge me as I diverge from the IF realm for a bit...)

Over the course of the morning I've been engaging with colleagues and students about their memories of Sept. 11th, 2001. The most shocking revelation was when speaking with one of my student staff, she said she was in 6th grade 8 years ago! I was a college sophomore at the time... boy, do I feel old now!

Anyway, in doing so, I've found it therapeutic, and from a history buff standpoint, quite fascinating hearing stories of a shared, collective experience such as this.

I remember the day vividly, and I'd like to share my experience as I remember it:

I was a college sophomore, at a school in central NJ. I woke up early, put on this hippie-style top I had at the time, did my hair and makeup (a rarity before a 9am class in college). It was the ONE morning I deliberately chose not to turn on the TV to CNN that morning, as I did every other morning. I had a small breakfast and headed to class. I took a midterm at 9am; our prof was a few minutes late, and a couple of students mentioned about a plane crash in NYC. He thought it was a small aircraft, and said the midterm was continuing as planned. At 10:50am, I left my class and passed a friend of mine in the hall, hysterically sobbing. She had interned at Morgan Stanley that summer. She was the first one who told me the Towers had fallen. I still hadn't seen a TV yet, and headed to my 11am midterm.

My professor was sitting at his desk, sobbing. He waited to make sure all the students had shown up, and then canceled class. I was still pretty clueless as to what was going on. I didn't have a cell phone at that point, so I had to find a payphone to call my parents in southern NJ; I used my emergency calling card I kept on me. My mom explained everything, and was hysterical b/c my dad, a photojournalist for a major newspaper, pretty much left for NYC to cover it as soon as he saw it happen live on the morning news. I walked back to my dorm, sobbing to myself.

I congregated in the lounge, with its giant big-screen TV, watching replays of the footage that morning over and over and over, most of the res life staff sitting there, shell-shocked. I remember feeling weird about going up to my room on the 9th floor of my dorm, as I lived in buildings dubbed as the Twin Towers of our college - two adjacent 10 story high-rise freshmen buildings.

I remember TVs being on everywhere, and if there wasn't a TV somewhere, projectors and screens had CNN going on in the dining halls. I called Ari at some point, and we talked about all sorts of stuff, including what would happen if there was a draft. I remember feeling like a zombie for days.

I remember the ban on air travel, and how quiet it was outside, esp. since there was a small airport with regular traffic that practically buzzed our res halls on a daily basis. It was strange to walk outside and not hear air traffic. I still remember the first plane I heard outside after the ban was lifted, and the sinking feeling in my gut.

I still remember all of this with crystal clarity, and yet it was 8 years ago, today.

I think keeping the dialogue about what we remember is important, and quite honestly, fascinating. What do you remember about 8 years today? Feel free to leave comments about your memories.

Show & Tell 3: No Reservations about Anthony Bourdain

Sushi, anyone?

This is Anthony Bourdain. I have a little bit of a celebrity crush on him.

That purple door really brings out your cigarette.

He's written a totally awesome book, Kitchen Confidential, which I finished listening to on audiobook a couple of weeks ago. In fact, it was the audiobook I listened to for the several long drives back and forth from NJ to MA the week Ari's Nan passed away. I've been a skeptic about audiobooks, but having watched No Reservations regularly, I knew Tony (yeah, we're cool like that) had a great speaking voice, and it would be an easy listen. It's a fantastic no-holds-barred look at the dirty underbelly of the restaurant biz. You will think twice about ordering fish on Mondays or brunch on, well, ever, and you'll have a new found appreciation for butter, Ecuadorian kitchen staff, women chefs and line cooks, and patient spouses. It is a highly enjoyable "read" (can I say that since I didn't actually pick up a book?) and a must for foodies.

Ari and I tune in every Monday for No Reservations (or at least we Tivo it and catch up during the week). We're getting ridiculously excited about our forthcoming two-week trip to Japan in mid-October. And yes, we've rewatched all the No Reservations Japan/Tokyo eps already :) There's a razor sharp wit and practicality, as well as a genuine sense of humbleness to Tony Bourdain that we both really love and appreciate, and it makes us think twice, or rather think intentionally, about the food we eat and the places we visit. We've decided that we both want Tony Bourdain's job - traveling the world, eating, and writing. Next on my reading list is his book about the No Reservation experience, similarly titled.

For the record, I find it kind of hysterical that I've grown up to become a foodie, when I was pickiest eater as a child ever. I will try just about anything that's not moving. I am sucking up the courage to eat kobe beef tartar when we make a day trip to Kobe. We are PUMPED about arranging a traditional kaiseki dinner in Kyoto or Tokyo. But what it comes down to it is that I love good food, good flavors, new experiences. I relate closely to that opening scene in Ratatouille, where Remy goes on about how food is just awesome, how flavors combine and collide and the resulting sensation in your mouth and there's all the corresponding fireworks and swirls... o la la!

Rats can be foodies, too.

But back to the task at hand: Tony Bourdain. The point of my Show and Tell this time around is that, well, I've got it bad for the man. And Ari is totally aware, b/c I make some inappropriate comment every time the show is on. He's suave, quite good looking for an older dude, he's well-traveled, cooks a good meal.. what more could a girl ask for?

How can you resist that boyish charm?

. . .

Make sure you visit Mel's place and see what the other kids are showing off this week!