Reflective thoughts on PETA forthcoming - promise!

Hey folks - I've been meaning to post a nice reflective piece on this whole experience. It has been a whirlwind of a week and weekend, but I'm literally running on empty right now between work and some after work commitments (in addition to getting my house cleaned/organized for visitors in a couple of weeks). My schedule, as it always does in April, has blown up.

I'm hoping to have something up by tomorrow night at the latest, but wanted to share a couple of quick, cool things:

1. The NIAW language that still remained on PETA's directing Features page has been removed as of 12pm EST today. Victory complete!

2. We got media coverage in Canada... under "Weird News." Lol, I'll take it.

3. We got an amazing and inspiring summary of events from Rachel Gurevich from infertility.about.com: How Blogging, Online Petitions, Phone Calls, and Email Writing Really Can Make a Difference

4. I'll be appearing as a guest with Evelina W. Sterling from Rachel's Well on Theresa Erickson's The Surrogacy Lawyer Radio Program THIS THURSDAY at 11AM PST/2PM EST. Tune in online here!

So stay tuned for (what will hopefully be my last) blog post about PETA and this whole experience tonight or tomorrow.

And now, I'll leave you with another picture of my cats, because they are quite frankly - adorbs.

That's right, our cats hold paws. Behold the cute.

A 2nd Open Letter to PETA: Thank You

---

TO: "Ingrid Newkirk" [IngridN@peta.org]
CC: "Carrie Snider" [CarrieS@peta.org], "HollyAnne Dame" [HollyAnneD@petaf.org], "Tracy Reiman" [TracyR@peta.org], "Dan Mathews" [DanM@peta.org], "Lisa Lange" [LisaL@peta.org]
SUBJECT: A 2nd Open Letter to PETA re: Win a Vasectomy - Thank You
DATE: Sun, Apr 10, 2011 at 2:26 AM

---

Ingrid E. Newkirk, President
CC: Carrie Snider, Special Projects Coordinator; HollyAnn Dame, Membership Correspondent; Tracy Reiman, Executive Vice President; Dan Mathews, Senior Vice President of Campaigns; Lisa Lange, Senior Vice President of Communications
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals
501 Front St.
Norfolk, VA 23510

Dear Ms. Newkirk,

It was recently brought to my attention that PETA has removed all links to National Infertility Awareness Week for your “Win a Vasectomy” campaign. On behalf of the 7.3 million people who cope with the disease of infertility every day:

Thank you.

Thank you for listening to our voices, our emails, our blog posts, our tweets, our website comments, our media coverage, our phone calls and messages, and our petition with 2,200+ signatures. Thank you for listening to your members and supporters who disagreed with this campaign’s tactics. Thank you for listening and hearing the voice of the infertility community. Believe me when I say we are deeply grateful for your decision to retract the association between these two campaigns.

Thank you for recognizing and acknowledging that infertility is not a joke, not a patient community who can be used to promote your organization’s aims at our expense.

I have asked my readers and followers to consider making a contribution to their local animal shelter as a way to say thank you to your organization in the wake of your decision to remove the link to NIAW. I personally will be making a contribution to the Northeast Animal Shelter in honor of this occasion, a no-kill shelter in my community that brought us our two lovely cats Saba and Toro (see picture below).

I do have one final, minute request of a technical note. While the landing page for the “Win a Vasectomy” campaign has removed all mention of NIAW, it appears the directing page under the Features tab still includes the “in honor of” language (http://www.peta.org/features/default.aspx). As someone who has worked with website management before, it appears to be a simple oversight error that this language was listed on this separate page. We would appreciate the immediate removal/updating of this language from the Features page as well if PETA would like to be consistent in honoring its commitment not to further offend our patient community.

Again, I would like to personally thank you, and thank you on behalf of the infertility community for removing the link to your campaign and NIAW.

Respectfully,
~Keiko Zoll
(and Saba & Toro)

Thanks, PETA.

PETA Update #4: Victory!

We did it, folks!

PETA has removed all references to National Infertility Awareness Week from their "Win a Vasectomy" campaign. I've closed the petition and we've come in at just over 2,200 signatures in just 3 days. This is an incredible victory for the infertility community.

Check out my vlog below for more information, and stay tuned for my open letter to PETA thanking them for hearing our voice and responding to our concerns.

Feel free to spread the good news!

Infertility and Raising Awareness

We are more than our infertility. 

When we think of infertility, sometimes we think about all the things it has taken away from us: our fertility, our sense of control in our lives and of our bodies, sometimes even our hopes and plans. Infertility can make us weary, stressed, sad, numb, frustrated, jaded, angry, confused, scared, restless... the list goes on. For some, infertility leaves a sense of emptiness inside them. For others, infertility is less a sense of emptiness but more of a constant reminder that shadows them wherever they go.

I have said this on multiple occasions and I'll say it again: we are more than our infertility.

Often, when I speak of my own infertility journey, I start with saying "Infertility has robbed us of the chance to build our family the old-fashioned way." It's true. That chance was in fact stolen from me. Yet it hasn't left me empty, even if at first it felt that way. And I don't feel like infertility is chasing on my heels, a shadow I can't escape, rather, it's colored my vision and the way I look at the world. Infertility has changed me as a person, but I am not defined by my infertility.

I think this is due largely to my involvement with RESOLVE, particularly with advocacy and raising awareness. I've written before that I fit very much the definition of a wounded healer, that from my place of pain I am able to turn around and help others. A lot of this is probably personality but I think a good portion of this is simply part of my healing process. And I won’t lie: it kills the time while we wait to begin our own family building process.

Raising awareness and advocating for infertility treatment, coverage, and research has given me back a lot of the things that felt taken from me. I feel like I’ve regained a sense of control and that I’m engaged in meaningful, purpose-driven work. A couple of weeks ago, I was telling my husband how I was sorry I’m not the same woman he married three years ago. “Infertility has made me a different woman,” I said.

“It’s true. You’ve changed,” he said, without hesitation. I turned to look at him. “But you’re a stronger woman because of it.”

I carried a lot of shame for that first year after my diagnosis. After creating my video for National Infertility Awareness Week last year, it was as if that veil of embarrassment and guilt was lifted from me. I spoke with confidence: “My name is Keiko Zoll, I’m 26 years old, happily married, and living with infertility.” That confidence has only grown and yes, I am a different person – a stronger, more passionate person who’s ready to take on the challenges facing our community and advocate for change.

I know advocacy isn’t for everyone, but I can’t deny how much of a positive impact is has not only made on our journey, but in my life.

There are two ways you can raise awareness and advocate for change coming up in the next two months. One requires very active, direct interactions with legislators while the other can be more passive, from the comfort of your favorite blogging platform.

Less than a month from today, RESOLVE is sponsoring National Infertility Awareness Week 2011, from April 24 – 30th. There are a variety of events happening around the country, and you can host your own event too. Or, if you’d like a more passive approach, check out this year’s Bust a Myth Infertility Blog Challenge. Pick an infertility myth and blog about it – it’s that simple! All entries will then be eligible for RESOLVE Hope Award for Best Blog at their annual Night of Hope Awards.

With all of the misinformation and misunderstanding about infertility out there, this is a perfect opportunity to raise awareness and pave the way for change. You might even use it as an opportunity to “out” yourself to others- daunting and not for everyone, I know – but still a perfect chance to show people how 1 in 8 is not only someone they know, but someone just like you.

If you’re feeling particularly inspired and fired up, you can also participate in RESOLVE’s Advocacy Day on Thursday, May 5th. With RESOLVE’s training and guidance, you can meet with legislators on Capitol Hill to speak about why Congress needs to care about infertility and to legislate wisely when it comes to reproductive healthcare and mandated healthcare coverage. Can’t make it to Washington D.C.? No problem! RESOLVE will help set up appointments for you with legislators in your state and local districts.

I realize how intimidating this might sound, but others just like you have done it (Stirrup Queen, Body Diaries by Lucy, and A Little Pregnant, to name a few) and after the initial jitters, feel exhilarated at having taken such a bold step in infertility advocacy. To quote the ever fabulous Julie over at A Little Pregnant, "I don't really know what to say about Advocacy Day except that I have never had a more empowering moment as an infertile person." How is that not inspiring to get involved?

I’m planning to go to Advocacy Day myself this year for the first time. I can’t make it to D.C., but I can certainly take a day off of work to meet with legislators here in Mass. and thank them for their support and provide them with further education. Honestly, it’s the least I can do for having the privilege to live in state with mandated coverage.

Infertility and raising awareness, advocating for change: it’s good for the soul. It feeds us with passion and purpose. We regain some of that control we’ve lost. We see our infertility less as a limit of who we could have been and more of an opportunity of what we can become and the change we can make in the world. Raising awareness and advocating for change helps to support our infertility brothers and sisters-in-arms.

In the end, we come out stronger because of it.

---

This post is part of About.com’s Health Channel Fertility Blog Carnival hosted by Rachel Gurevich, author of infertility.about.com.

Rod Roddy said it best.

"A NEW CAR!!!!"

As promised, here are pictures of the new car. After some debate and a thoroughly convincing test drive, we ended up going with the 2011 VW Jetta.




She's a beaut. She's got zip and some serious power when she's in sport mode. She's got leatherette seats, a sunroof, bluetooth connectivity with my phone, 3 months of Sirius sat radio, and a cold weather convenience package with heated seats, heated side mirrors, and heated windshield wiper fluid nozzles. And you could probably fit at least two bodies in the trunk, even without the flip-down back seats. I think I'm in love.

We dropped off the Civic Saturday morning. Since I had already taken everything out of the car, I couldn't connect my phone to play some final parting tunes... but I had left a Beatles CD in the radio, so we drove to the dealer listening to Ticket to Ride and finally Yesterday. A fitting last ride in the Civic. I won't lie... I was happy to see her off.

Picking up the Jetta was a breeze (as was buying it). If you're looking for a reputable VW dealer in the North Shore area, shoot me an email. I'm happy to make a referral because they rocked. We drove off, I connected my phone, and it was time to play the first song in the new ride:

Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries. It seemed the natural choice for my first German car.

It was then followed by Nena's 99 Red Balloons (which, cranked up in the rockin' stereo system in my car, has a tendency to make me drive rather fast). Then I moved on to some other new car musts: Vampire Weekend, Warren G's Regulate (timely what with Nate Dogg's death - sad), and Journey's Don't Stop Believin'.

So this leaves me at a bit of an impasse. I'm very into naming my cars. My very first car, an old Mercury Tracer, was affectionately named Beatrix Kiddo; it was shortly after Kill Bill Vol. 2 had come out and was my favorite movie of the moment. Then there was the Civic, named Barracuda because it was my song of choice on Guitar Hero. I initially thought I'd call the Jetta The Valkyrie: a winged warrior, but when I got in it and drove it around, I'm not sure if that's the best. Then I thought I'd name it Nena, after the singer who did 99 Red Balloons, because it sounded so awesome in my car. But that was a passing thought. Then I figured Rhiannon, the Anglo-Saxon/Celtic goddess of movement and horses. A friend of mine suggested Gretta... for Gretta the Jetta. I can't make up my mind!

Here's where I need your help... I'm going to let y'all name my car! What do you think? Do you have your own suggestion? Take the poll or add in your own idea for a name!

The poll will stay up until Sunday night sometime and then I'll reveal the winner on Monday. I'll either pick the name with the most votes or choose an awesome name from your suggestions.

Readers, I put this into your hands.

. . .

By the way, just a quick follow up from Friday: Redefinition Day was fantastic. The zero-balancing session was exactly what I needed, not only for clarity of mind but for my lower back (I'm battling a bursitis flare-up). I had a wonderful lunch: chicken cordon bleu crepe (chicken, ham, bacon, swiss cheese, dijon mustard... drooling as I type this) with a pint of organic pale ale. And the movie Poetry was wonderful. Could have been an hour shorter, but I liked the overall plot (if predictable) and artistic feel of the film. I capped off the day with a scrumptious dinner at a local restaurant with my husband, just relaxing and enjoying the self-care. Many of you did nice things for yourself on Friday too - but it's not just limited to my day. Pick a day this week to do something celebratory for yourself, write about it, and post a link in the comments here so I can celebrate you too!

Redefinition Day: Celebrating Myself Beyond My Infertility

Today I celebrate myself. (Silly hats optional.)

I used to call this day D-Day, for Diagnosis Day. My friend Honeybee has called it my Redefinition Day as I look back at from where I've come in just two years. Two years ago, all I could see was infertility, my life permenently changed and colored by this crushing diagnosis. Last year, I decided to celebrate myself, to move beyond this definition.

I take the time to set aside a whole day to tell myself: "I am more than my infertility." Has it changed me? Yes. It has impacted the ways in which I view the world, myself, and my relationships with others. It has colored my previous notions of what I want to be when I grow up. Does it define me? No. It has nearly beaten me down but I've risen up from its blows as an advocate, a wounded healer, a Warrior Woman.

. . .

One of the things that attracted me to Judaism is the notion of marking time, of sanctifying both the ordinary and extraordinary moments in our lives. There are rituals for births, coming of age, weddings, funerals, but there even the daily ritual of waking up is made holy and sacred. The kashrut sanctifies the very food we put into our bellies, recognizing that even nourishment is a blessing. In Judaism, every moment of life is precious and sacred, and so we mark it accordingly. With the devastation in Japan, there's no greater reminder of just how important it is to cherish each moment of our lives. (Speaking of: want to help the relief effort in Japan? Donate to the Red Cross here.)

It might be easy to paint this now "official" ritual of taking the day off as a way of brooding on something I should move beyond. But when I think about it from a Jewish context, it's almost like a yartzheit. I lost something very dear to me, and so on its anniversary, I choose to remember, reflect, and redefine myself beyond what was lost.

. . .

Last year I took the day off: I got a massage, I did nice things for myself. This year, with all the busy-ness of the last few weeks, I realized I had taken the day off from work but hadn't planned anything in particular. I received a lot of great ideas both in the comments here and on my Facebook page about how I could celebrate myself today.

 

I'm spending the first half of the day getting my car inspected. The lease is up and we'll be turning it in this weekend for a brand new car... details (with pics!) on Monday, promise. Then I'll grab myself a nice lunch. I'm thinking crepes at Gulu Gulu Cafe.

 

Then I'm heading to a zero balancing and massage session. Zero balancing is kind of hard to describe; it's an intergrative approach to energy work and massage, but it basically levels you out. I've had it done once about 5 years ago and I think I'm about due for another session. It's good stuff; it's not just stress-relieving, but leaves me feeling balanced and whole again.

 

After my ZB/massage, I think I'll swing by Cinema Salem to catch a matinee of the Korean film Poetry. The trailer has me hooked, and apparently my local theatre is one of less than ten screens showing it in the country. And then I think I'll get dinner and some drinks with Larry downtown, maybe hit up the Chianti jazz club in Beverly.

 

It's going to be a fab today. I'm looking forward to just celebrating myself for a whole day, of leaving behind year another year from my diagnosis. I wash my hands of the negativity, the doubt, the fear, the stress and rub my washed hands together and say to myself: "What work will I do this year?"

 

. . .

 

That said, even thought I'm sure many of you are at work or have busy lives today, you can help me celebrate too by celebrating yourselves! Even if you have just 10 minutes today, I want you to do something totally for yourself, to celebrate, pamper, and cherish the awesome person you are. Paint your toenails, have a cookie with lunch, go for a walk in your neighborhood, buy yourself a cheap bouquet of flowers, wear your favorite shade of lipstick. Whatever it is, do it for you and tell yourself: "I am effing awesome and I deserve nice things, to be happy, and to take some time for myself today."

 

Leave a comment telling me what you did for yourself today. I want to come back later tonight and see tons of good things you've all done for yourselves!

Let's Celebrate Women for International Women's Day

Hey everyone... it's International Women's Day. In fact, it's the 100th International Women's Day!

Women.... ROCK. We do! And we roll, we dance, we fall in love, we fall out of love, we climb mountains, we fly in space shuttles, we fight in wars, we run for president, we sing, we write, we knit, we do karate, we cook, we eat, we collect things that make us happy, we have babies, we adopt, we travel the world, we fight for freedom in the streets of Egypt, Tunisia, and Libya, we fight for the freedom of our own bodies in the streets of America, we fight to find the remains of our disappeared relatives in the deserts of Chile, we fight for our government to apologize for the use of Comfort Women at the embassies of Japan, we fight for the right to wear our headscarves in the streets of France.

Women's work is hard, people. And we do it because if we don't, who will?

. . .

At the Red Tent Temple last night, my hands were literally blessed by my friend Honeybee: "It is good work that you do, it is work that must be done. Bless these hands for the work that you do."

As Honeybee reminded us last night, we are each shooting stars. We blaze our own paths of womanhood, each of our experiences unique, valid, and purposeful.

. . .

Women have so much to teach the world (if folks would just listen once in a while!) - we have so much we can teach other, as women. We have so much we can teach each other as infertile women, as mothers, as daughters, as sisters, as aunts, as wives and partners.

There is no tome big enough to hold all of the things I have learned from all of the women in my life.

. . .

In honor of International Women's Day, let's celebrate women and womanhood. Tell me (pick one or all three):

1. What rocks about being a woman?
2. What women's work do you do?
3. Who is a special woman in your life and what is one thing she has taught you?

It's only fair I do the homework assignment, too, so here goes:

What rocks about being a woman?
Women rock because we are fundamentally vessels of creation. This creative power is one that many have tried to squash, take away, or subdue. But when we remember that we are the keepers of that creative power: we are a force to behold.

What women's work do I do?
Certainly not household chores, my heavens I'm a lazy one. But... I make tea. I stop to take pictures of random flowers. I write. I think about all the cool things I'm going to teach my niece and hopefully one day, my own children. I brush my cats and stroke their little furry chins. I cook and boy howdy do I eat. I volunteer. I make short films. I appreciate nature. I travel. I go to the Red Tent. I talk about other women's work.

Who is a special woman in your life and what is one thing she has taught you?
My sister Jasmine is amazing. She's my older sister, a loving wife, a kickass new mom, and quite literally, Teacher of the Year. So it only makes sense that yes, shes's taught me many, many things. I could go on for days about all the things she's taught me, but I'll tell you the one thing that's probably shaped my whole life: my sister taught me to love learning. I only ever did drama club because she used to do theatre crew. I only ever joined chorus because she did color guard. I wrote tragically awful poetry because she did the lit mag and took creative writing. I took French with Madame Venanzi (no matter how much we both hated her) because she took French; I went on the French Club trip to France because she had completed a semester abroad in England. My sister did all these awesome things that cultivated her mind in such creative ways that I learned from her that knowledge, creativity, and reading are profoundly important. So thanks, Sis. Thanks for teaching me that an intelligent mind is a beautiful, powerful thing.

So celebrate with me today for International Women's Day - share your celebrations in the comments!

The first hints of spring

There's a mockingbird out my window, twittered rambling

a cornflower sky, the remnants of snow melting into a memory

dark red buds on the trees timidly reaching toward the morning sun

I can feel Spring trying to burst through Her Old Foe, Winter

as the ice cracks on the Charles, small continents of ice returning to the Harbor

like the tapping of a hard boiled egg against the counter, the shell giving way

like the tapping of a spoon against the crackled coating of a creme brulee

breaking through to the sweetness within

I feel a buzzing in my soul

knowing Spring and I will meet again

in just eighteen days.



Photo by Keiko Zoll



Boston Walk for Choice

I know I've been talking a lot about anti-reproductive legislation lately, but I wanted to share a short video recap I made of Saturday's Walk for Choice in Boston. Dozens of cities participated (internationally as well), and I was lucky enough to participate, carrying my signs in the cold, walking in solidarity with other men and women who recognized that yes, we need to care about all this craptacular legislation out there.

Awesome moments of the day:

+ On a very crowded train to downtown, a young woman sitting across from me read one side of my sign (Infertile Woman for Choice), made eye contact with me, smiled, and made a little heart symbol with her hands.

+ Marching through Downtown Crossing, our chants echoing off the tall buildings around us, cars honking in support, people stopping to read our signs.

+ Marching through Boston Common, people lined up along us, reading our signs, clapping and cheering in solidarity. I found that particularly emotional.

+ Several hundred people calling Senator Scott Brown's office at the same time, leaving messages urging him to vote against a Senate bill to defund Planned Parenthood.

+ The many, many witty signs.

It was a great day. For more recaps, check out the Boston Walk for Choice Tumblr, as well as the main Walk for Choice Tumblr with photos and video from cities around the world who participated on Saturday.

Boston Walk for Choice 2011 from Keiko Zoll on Vimeo.

Compassion, Grace, and Courage

Last week, I gave an interview to my college alumni magazine talking about the work I've been doing for the infertility community, and how my one little video exploded on the internet nearly a year ago. I'm excited to see it come out sometime in April or May, as it will be coming up to the one-year anniversary of my video going live and also (hopefully) smack dab in the middle of National Infertility Awareness Week. As I was talking with the reporter, it dawned on me that it's been almost two years since I was diagnosed. And then I remembered that even those I was still a total IF noob, I outed myself on Facebook just a month and a half after the diagnosis. I quickly deleted it and then reposted it when someone I knew from childhood contacted me privately to say, "Thank you for posting this. I'm going through this, too."

I remember being totally blown away by the revelation that, holy cow- it wasn't just me, and not only that- this is someone I sat with in social studies class in middle school. And then someone else I went to school with contacted me. And then a former coworker. It was one of those moments when I realized just how indiscriminate infertility is and how it's touched a shocking number of people in my lives.

While I was in Atlanta, I received an email from one of those friends that reached out to me nearly two years ago. I'm posting it here with his persmission but have changed their names:

Hi Keiko,

I've been trying to figure out how to write this for weeks. I am going to screw it up and for that I am sorry. I have had this raging internal debate on sending this, for fear of making you feel like I am singling you out or making your day (or even just a brief moment today) unhappy. But as my only IF confidant (besides 1 or 2 VERY close friends) I feel compelled to write you

One of our IUI treatments a few months ago was successful; Bella is at 12 weeks tomorrow. I've been riding a roller coaster of emotions for weeks: joy, fear, guilt among others. The worst has been thinking of my friends in the IF community - and how they would feel knowing that yet another couple is expecting. I wish I had the magic words to make it all right, but as I still haven't found them myself, I don't know what to say... other than thank you: for being a voice, an advocate, and a friend- for doing what you do everyday- for giving all of us hope.

We may be pregnant, but I know I will always be a part of the IF community. I must carry the knowledge everyday that my son/daughter- in spite of all the love and wisdom (ha!) - I plan to give them is ultimately another man's genetic make-up. Ultimately (as we well know) there are burdens in life that we all must bear, and this is one that I happily choose to carry.

We plan to share our news in the very near future with everyone. But I knew that I needed to share this with you before that - and to thank you for being a voice... and perhaps offer you the same hope that you have given me and so many others.

- Edward

You could have knocked me over with a feather after I read that email. I replied and was totally up front with him: I'm so happy for them both, but I know they know that this is also momentarily painful too. I thanked Edward for his compassion, grace, and courage in sharing that with me in such a compassionate, graceful, and courageous way.

It was one of those moments that filled me with hope even through the tears of reading another pregnancy announcement. I hope that one day we do get to experience all of that same joy, and even their fear and guilt too. I feel like it's only natural when IF folks do find out they're pregnant. And I hope we get to experience all of that.

And I hope that if I do, I can show the same level of compassion, grace, and courage to all of you, because I know how hard it will be for some of you to read that. But after reading Edward's email - man, I really hope I do get to share that news with you one day. I was so filled with hope because, unlike the other success stories I read out there - I know Edward. We went to school together, suffered through the same miserable bio class, and while we weren't the best of friends, we got close only recently because we both had such a deeply personal battle in common. And I feel like because I know him, maybe it's totally possible for good things to happen to us, too. His story only makes me more hopeful for our own.

So to Edward and Bella (I couldn't resist): mazel tov on this wonderful blessing, this incredible new chapter in your lives and thank you for being a model of compassionate grace and courage to the rest of us.

Thanks for thinking of us and cheering us on. I'll still be doing the same for you, too.

This one's for M.

I'm sitting in the hotel lobby at my conference, because amazingly, in this day and age, I'm expected to actually pay for internet in my room. Come on Marriott, I get the money game you're playing here, but come on. We're already paying out the nose for the room... you could throw a little free in-room internet my way.

This conference has taken up a grand amount of time (as it should) but it's been an intense 4 days so far. Tons of sessions from which to choose, constantly playing the game of "what information can I realistically take back and practically apply to my institution?" and feeling a bit out of my league. This conference is more academically focused rather than just pure student affairs' conferences I've attended in the past and sometimes I just feel like I'm wearing a scarlet BA on my chest... more faculty and administrators than staff here, that's for sure. Larry told me after I got out of my first session: "Don't sweat it and don't sell yourself short. You're just as smart and have every right to be there, too."

And that's why I love my husband ^_^

. . .

Yesterday morning, I was on my way out of a session when a young woman came up to me.

"Hi, are you Keiko?"

"Yes," I said, distractedly.

"I read your blog and I just had to come over and say hi and thank you for being a voice out there for us." We chatted for another minute; I was half-asleep, having overslept a bit and trying to remember where my next session was so I gave her my business card, thanked her for reaching out to me, and dashed out into the crowd of attendees. A few minutes later, I realized how rude I must have seemed: I didn't even get her last name.

I had gotten her first name- M- but hadn't thought to grab her card in my semi-awake state. I was thrilled when I checked my email that evening to see she had sent me a note. This morning we exchanged emails and texts and met up to chat during some downtime this afternoon.

. . .

Like any good academic conference, there are plenty of publishing company exhibitors here to hawk their titles to us salivating first-year/common reading book selection committee members. Today many of them had catered lunches featuring several of their authors here to talk about their books. M and I had each gone to different lunches, and she shared with me a really tough moment for her that day:

The author of Just Don't Fall, Josh Sundquist, spoke at her lunch about how childhood cancer robbed him of his leg but lead to a path toward the Paralympics. She relayed his delivery: energetic, engaging, exhuberant. He described how as a 9-year old, he looked up to a boy wearing a lime green soccer uniform in his school. He wanted that uniform; that was his goal. At 10, he was diagnosed with cancer and lost his leg. After years of physical therapy, he talked about a ski trip with his family where he went sledding with a modified sled. Just before he went down for another run, as he was sitting on the sled, a man came up to him, saying "Hey kid!" He turned and looked, and here was a man in a red, white, and blue uniform: stars, stripes, matching and coordinated. "Hey kid, I'm a coach for the US Paralympics Team, and I think you'd be great."

Sundquist arrived at his selling point, about how to adapt his book and his story to college freshmen audiences of all backgrounds: "Sometimes you grow up and want so bad to fit into one uniform, only to find out that it's not that one that's handed to you."

M didn't have to explain anything more beyond that point. The look in her eyes was enough to know just how deeply that had resonated within her that afternoon, a stark reminder of how the pain/anger/longing/fuckedup-itude of infertility can really strike us anywhere.

No matter how hard we might work to create safe-spaces for ourselves, we just never really know when a subtle reminder of your own infertility can creep into your brain. In some ways, it's like we're either always with our guards up or feeling hopelessly defenseless. It's a precarious and unsettling state in which to be.

. . .

M and I talked for over an hour, each sharing our stories and experiences. I think we were both appreciative of the chance to make a face-to-face connection. I certainly didn't come here thinking I'd talk to anyone about infertility but I'm glad I did.

Sidenote: I had my own WTFIF?! (I'm coining a new acronym: What the fuck, infertility?!) moment Saturday at the Georgia Aquarium. That's a post for later in the week.

I'd been feeling a bit stagnant in the days leading up to the conference, but since I've been here, I've felt a renewed kick in the ass about writing, and more importantly, about doing more for this community. My chance meeting with M has only solidified that resolve.

I told M that I write and make videos because infertility shouldn't be silent and we should be able to speak openly about it with others. M made such a great point about how we can both look around this Sea of The Academy and know we have brother and sisters in arms, fighting daily and (most likely) private battles. I listened to M's story, celebrating the things we share in common and listening with compassion at her own challenges, offering the best advice I could. It was a truly wonderful conversation and I'm glad to have made such a happenstance connection with someone.

. . .

Photo by Gillian via Flickr.

I know this post is titled "This one's for M" but really, it's for all of you:

M: Keep writing. Even if you don't blog, make that pen move. I won't say that every word put to paper is one less tear, but it certainly makes it easier along the way. No matter how things turn out, you can always look back and read the story of your growth and strength.

You don't have to carry signs or run a fundraiser to be an advocate. Like I said, even sharing your story with just one person outside your safe circle is another person educated about the reality of infertility and potentially another ally in your corner.

Arm yourself with information and facts. People will be snarky, ignorant, or even polite and well-intentioned but careless in their delivery. Or, as you said, they could be straightforward and devastatingly blunt. We're in the field of education, so I know you can relate to this: make those teachable moments. You don't have to necessarily share your personal story, but a solid statistic or research can go a long way. Like a good higher ed professional, refer them to a reliable resource for more information.

Treasure your safe circle of support and "use" them when you need to. Don't be afraid to ask for their support when you need it. That's why you hold them so close to your heart.

Never feel weird about reaching out to me, even at a place as random as an academic conference. I'm here to listen. I might not have any answers but at the very least, I can listen because your story told in your voice to another person is important, valid, and to be respected. I know it's not easy and I respect and honor your courage for opening up and sharing it with me.

I wish we weren't both members of this community, but I'm glad we found each other, that we made this connection. It helps not to feel so goddamned alone.

And M: no matter what happens with this cycle, I'm sending you luck and support. Take it easy with those needles and just remember that you've got someone rooting for you, ready to celebrate or provide an ear, a shoulder, and a box of virtual tissues if necessary.

Be well and safe travels.

Three Years Ago Today

I took your hand and spoke with purpose:

Matzati et she'ahava nafshi
(I have found him, whom my soul loves)

Three years ago, I remember my veiled perspective:
surrounded by family and song, my excitement lulled
into comtemplative anticipation as the rabbi lead us in niggun
her wordless, haunting melody reaching deep within me
 
In this sacred silk space around my head and face
I knew I would exit a different woman
someone's wife - your wife
my veil lifted as though my world awakened
the first light of our many tomorrows
 
I remember the corners of the red napkin we each clutched with desperation
as our friends and family lifted us high over their shoulders
the Hora playing loudly, everything whirling around us like a carnival ride
 
The feel of your hands as we exchanged rings
the first I had felt your touch all weekend
as you recited words that have echoed across
five thousand years
I felt holy and connected, my soul
rejoicing, relieved
 
gladdened to have found
the one
in whom I
delight
 
. . .
 
What a remarkable three years it has been, and here's to many, many more adventures together.
 
Happy anniversary, love.

A little kindness and compassion

...can go a long way.

Photo by Sarah Murray via Flickr.

I sometimes straddle a difficult line with blogging and being public about my identity. Sometimes there are things I am dying to write about here, but I know that even with strategic re-naming of the parties involved, people will recognize themselves and that someone will eventually be hurt by what I write. I practice a high degree of self-censorship in that regard.

But sometimes, when people go out of their way to be so kind and pleasant to you, well, I can't help but write about it. If anything to prove that even though infertile folks have to deal with some of the most asinine but well-intentioned advice, we can also be the recipients of some of the most humbling compassion.

Right before Christmas, my niece began crawling. My sister was so excited and proud of her wee little one- as well she should be! - and wanted to share the good news. On the way home from work, she called me and we were catching up a bit. We would be seeing each other on Christmas Day, so it was more of a "Hi how are ya" conversation. And then my sister got quiet for a minute.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, can I ask you a really stupid, silly question?" she said after a minute.

"Sure. I'll have a stupid, silly answer for you," I teased.

She paused. "How do I know if it's okay to talk about Willow?"

The car was quiet for a minute, the only sound the soft murmur of the highway under my wheels. I thought for a moment. "I suppose you could just ask me, I won't be offended."

My sister went on, "Well it's just that I know you've been in a funk lately and I don't want to babble on about her if you don't want to hear about it. I just don't want to make you upset."

I smiled, deeply touched. "Seriously, you can just ask me. I'll let you know if I don't want to - I'll be honest if it's one of those days."

"Should we have a code word or something?" After a few minutes of debate, we decided that we would refer to Willow in the form of potato products, since her in utero nickname was Spud.

"So... how do you feel about french fries today?" my sister asked.

"Why, they sound delicious! Tell me more," I smiled.

. . .

Not too long after that conversation I was talking with a dear friend, Nicole, online. (PS, totally random shoutout - she is one stellar photographer. Check out her stuff - for seriouses.) Larry and I were heading down to their house for New Year's weekend as part of a very coordinated surprise 30th birthday party for a mutual friend. There were folks coming from all over the country to celebrate our friend's birthday, and sleeping space was at a premium, especially beds. Thankfully we RSVP'd early enough to guarantee a bed of some sort (futon, air mattress, or otherwise) and Nicole was in the lovely position of playing human Tetris trying to figure out where everyone would be sleeping at her house.

Nicole, I should add, is 7½ months pregnant with her second boy. There would also be a recently announced pregnant couple there, as well as another couple with a toddler. We were catching up online when she asked if Larry and I would mind sleeping in the baby's room so the birthday boy (the couple with the toddler) could sleep downstairs in the basement with all of his friends from high school that were coming.

At first I wasn't sure, so I bought myself some time to think about by saying that I'd bring it up with Larry that evening and get back to her. Nicole was very honest, explaining that the baby's room was decorated, painted, and the crib was up, but there was plenty of room for an air mattress on the floor. Given the number of people coming, she had to get creative with the sleeping arrangements.

I thanked her for being so considerate enough to even ask in the first place; it's not that I wouldn't have expected her to ever be so kind, but it was a nice reminder of just how awesome a friend she is to Larry and me. That night I did bring it up with Larry and he said he didn't mind if I didn't. I told him I was on the fence; I was already worried at the potentially baby-centric weekend it could potentially be.

The next morning, a chat window from Nicole popped up. "Problem solved," it said. She had talked it over with our friends coming with the toddler and put them up in the baby's room instead. Larry and I got very lucky and got the quietest, darkest room in the house (our favorite place to sleep when we stay over there). New Year's weekend was a blast, and my "I'm the infertile surrounded by parents and pregnant ladies" fear was overblown. The baby talk was barely non-existent and I had a wonderful time, despite picking up one of the many colds that everyone brought with them.

. .

It's these little moments of compassion that can really go a long way, and that leave me humbled and thankful for the love and support we get. It's nice to feel like sometimes, we're not just floating out on this lonely island throwing bottles of rolled up wishes into the sea: that our friends and family hop into a little canoe, knowing they're headed to an uncomfortable destination but willing to take the ride all the same just to show their support in some way.

What moments of compassion have touched you in your journeys?

Chopped

It's a New Year, a new decade, and time for a new 'do. I've worn my hair long for the last 2 years but on December 22nd, I chopped it ALL off.

Before:

The only picture I could find of myself with my hair down, circa April 2010.
Even had old glasses! And a super huge pout for some unknown reason.

After:

And now, let's talk about my historical love/hate hair affair.

I've had a love/hate relationship with my hair ever since I was a wee one. As a small child I hated having my hair brushed or my scalp touched (I still freak out a little when people touch my head). As my mom and Aunt Kay would say, I was tender-headed. I'm pretty sure I single-handedly kept Johnson's Detangler on the drugstore shelves in my town. I practically went through a bottle a week as a kid.

My first haircut was when I was 4, in Charleston, South Carolina, at a beach house that no longer exists. (Hurricane Hugo washed it out to sea in 1989.) My Aunt Kay cut my hair. I remember it taking something like 3 hours, but that is small child memory sense of time, so in reality, it was probably like 20 minutes. My hair was down to my butt at the time and shorn down to a respectable level just below my shoulders.

I wore bangs throughout elementary school (who didn't? It was the late 80s/early 90s - it was as natural as slap bracelets and jelly shoes) but didn't really take the plunge until 8th grade. That's when I went for the Dana Scully-esque bob cut. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly a hair styling pro, so it never quite looked that cool. (Remember, cool is being used as a relative term to the mid-90s awesomeness of the X-Files at that time). Still, I was practically beaming for my eighth grade portrait.

I grew it out through high school and then got it cut sometime senior year. It had to have happened after senior portraits were taken (as my hair was just past my shoulders) but sometime before I started college, as there are early college pics of me with my hair growing out. I have only a few pictures of that haircut while it was fresh: it was an incredibly short haircut and it wasn't done very well.

Around my 21st birthday, I lopped off my hair again. There is a very awkward picture of me holding up my brand new license (that's right, didn't get my license until college) with my brand-new haircut. In retrospect, the haircuts themselves weren't necessarily bad... I just had no idea how to style them. I grew out my hair again, graduated, moved in with my boyfriend, started working in the real world, got engaged, and got married. I was terrible about getting my hair trimmed regularly and always kept it long. Right after we got married, I did what every single one of my married lady friends did post-wedding: I chopped it all off since I had grown it long for the wedding. I mistakenly went for the oh-so-2008-what-was-I-thinking style "pob" - the reverse angled bob cut made popular by Victoria Beckham - after the stylist assured me it was an easy style to manage.

Lies. I couldn't wait to get my hair trimmed back to one length and growing it back out as that hairstyle was a nightmare to maintain.

I never really got into the whole "doing my hair" thing, contrary to my Southern New Jersey upbringing. Styling meant I added hairspray or added a barette. For the last few years, I had 3 hairstyles: ponytail, bun, or tossed up in a hair claw. It is a RARE day indeed when I would wear my hair down. Just before the New Year, on a bonus day off, I decided to take the plunge and go pixie.

Granted, I have to "style" my hair every day and it's still a learning process. I still haven't achieved the same "just styled" look right out of the salon, but I'm okay with that. The styling process takes about 5 minutes in the morning so I'm not too overwhelmed. (Mostly it's towel-drying, adding some anti-frizz cream, parting my hair and smoothing it all down. I rarely blow dry my hair.)

Other pros of the pixie cut:
1. No more random long shedded strands stuck to my clothes.
2. No more balling up my hair and throwing it over the pillow when I go to sleep at night.
3. Less shampoo consumption (Never realized how much shampoo I used until that first hairwash post haircut.)
4. More opportunities for adorable hats and dangly earrings.
5. No more getting my hair caught in ____ (doors, seatbelts, jackets, under my husband's arm when he puts it around my shoulder, cats' teeth).

I've had this cut for just over 2 weeks now and I love how easy it is and how I look. It's a nice change of pace. The day I got it cut, I splurged with some Hanukkah money I'd been holding onto and a clothing store gift card from my mom. I got my hair cut, bought me some new duds, and then dropped- oy, I'm embarrassed to admit how much I spent- $128 on makeup at Sephora. I'm usually a Cover Girl/Maybelline sort of gal, but it felt nice to spend money on some really nice (if a bit overpriced) makeup. I needed to replace everything anyway as it was all  at least a couple of years old, plus I had to throw out all of my eye makeup when I got a bad stye in December. And now I've made a commitment to actually getting up, styling my hair, and putting on makeup in the morning (lol, of course except for today. The hair is a must but there was no time for makeup this morning).

Larry has been in awe of this super new girly-girl wife of his.

I admit, it's a big change for someone who, for the past 5 or 6 years never regularly wore makeup; makeup was reserved for special occasions only. But it feels nice just to take some time for myself, doll up my face and hair, and walk out the door feeling good about the way I look.

Back from the Cruise and Back to Life

I'm so sorry I have fallen off the internet radar in the last twoweeks. Just two days after coming home from our vacation, I managed to get one ugly case of strep that knocked me flat on my ass for three days this past week. Even though I was literally been in bed for 48 hours, I've been in so much pain and on so much medication that the thought of sitting down to blog was just too much. And then add to that I'd been out of work from our vacation, back a day, and then out sick for three days... I had a ton of catching up to do.

That being said, I'm back! And I have what I'm sure is going to be a lengthy travelogue of our vacation, because brevity is not my strong suit (my Japan travelogue, which I've not published here, but probably should at some point, is 31 pages and 14,000 words long). Here are the quick hits:

+ Cruise: Awesome! Relaxing. Norwegian is very different than Disney. Love love love me some cruises.
+ Grand Cayman: Beautiful, expensive, touristy, and the ocean water was just the most beautiful cerulean. Managed to avoid a sunburn but got a nice base tan. Bonus: drove a Jeep on the left side of the road (intentionally).
+ Cozumel: Touristy like WHOA, downpouring rain, I really don't like ATVs, and I need to go back there on a fishing charter. Bonus: learned that Cozumel is basically Fertility Island according to Mayan worship.
+ Miami: Art Basel 2010 was in town, South Beach is hopping, hip, and very VERY rich, ate at a delicious authentic French cafe, might have gorged on some gelato, relaxed on the beach before heading home again.
+ In sum: A really wonderful vacation.

And now for the detailed travelogue... Pull up a chair, get comfy: this got long.

We left for Miami the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend bright and early; we landed at MCO at 8:35am. Having never been to Miami before, we figured we'd tool around for the better part of the morning and head over the ship... the trouble was figuring out what to do with our luggage. We found out we could drop it off at the port starting at 10am, so we took a cab down to the port area and got ourselves some breakfast while we waited. Even though it was only 10am, Larry ordered himself a Cuban sandwich and a smoothie; I went for eggs, ham, and a Cubano coffee. While we ate breakfast, we realized we hadn't made any plans before getting onto the boat. Hm.

Normally, Larry and I are Mr. and Mrs. Travel Agent when it comes to planning our vacations, but we had no clue what do to for the next four hours. We're reading things like Yelp and random travel websites just to get some ideas. In my infinite wisdom, I find a rather misleading blurb for a "Sunday Village Market" featuring "craft sellers" and other neat sounding vendors. I'm thinking it's going to be this very kitschy, hipster, trendy thing.

Oh no. It's a bunch of really lame (less than 10) stalls in this very weird high-end strip mall in the middle of the financial district in Miami. We got there planning to spend a couple of hours checking it out, and we made the rounds in about 20 minutes. And considering it was a rather expensive cab ride to get over there, we didn't just want to turn around and head back to the port. So we did the next best thing: we hit up the Publix and got ourselves some bottles of Coke*.

*Good thing too: I'll get to that reason later.

We decide to head to the ship early and just chill out and explore the boat until we set sail, so it was another $20 cab ride back to the port. Getting onto the boat was easy, but just like at the airport, it was no drinks allowed, so I chugged my little bottle of Coke while I waited in line. Then it dawned on me:

What if the Norwegian is a Pepsi ship?!
 

We couldn't check into our cabin right away so we wandered around the ship, checking out all the restaurants and lounges and nooks and crannies. As we set sail, we headed down to the pool deck for a Caribbean inspired barbecue with steel drums and plenty of fruity cocktails. We splurged and got ourselves a fruity concoction of orange juice, strawberries, and a fair amount of rum. As we set sail and watched Miami fade into the distance, we were already feeling mighty relaxed.

The next day we were at sea all day, so we got to explore the various activities on board. We watched a delicious cooking demonstration and got to meet the Executive Chef of the ship. We hung out by the pool and got a nice tan. We met another couple on the boat who we would end up running into throughout our trip. We played shuffleboard (way harder than you would think) and I loved just watching the water. The coolest part? Seeing several schools of bonito (flying fish) glide over the waves and back into the water. I wondered at what point does a school of flying fish become a flock. I was also just amazed at the changing palettes of blue as I gazed out at the sea- I never knew there could be so many subtle shades. For dinner, we went to the sushi restaurant on board where I couldn't resist ordering bonito sashimi... it was friggin' delish.

The next day we anchored at Grand Cayman and took one of the first tender boats to the island. The heat was almost a shock to our systems: just oppressively hot in the late morning sun. What amazed me more: the folks who headed right off the boat and pulled up a seat at the port-side bar. Really? At 10am? Larry and I aren't big drinkers, so this was a cultural thing that was beyond us. (Sidebar: I really don't know how recovering alcoholics can go on cruises. The amount of drinking combined with how much it's peddled at you is almost overwhelming.) We headed out for our 4x4 Jeep tour of the island. As we hopped on the shuttle bus from the port, we became acutely aware that everyone was driving on the left. Oh right.... British colony and all. Well, it should certainly make driving our Jeeps interesting!

Larry's inaugeral drive on the left side of the road.

Larry drove first. We were paired up with a lovely little old lady from Wisconsin named Shana. She had no interest in driving (thank G-d) but she was a total shotgun hog the entire time. Otherwise, very pleasant, sweet woman. The driving took a little getting used to: we drove on the left, but our Jeep was American and not retro-fitted for left driving, so the steering wheel was also on the left. When I got to drive later in the tour, the sensation was very disorienting. Making right turns were not only cognitively confusing, but just plain dangerous, as my muscle memory was conditioned to look pretty much left before pulling out (your last look should be to the right as you have to cross a lane of oncoming traffic. Like I said, disorienting and dangerous).

We stopped at the National Forest and overlooked a stunning view of the reef- the second largest barrier reef in the world. From the beach to the reef are depths of anywhere between six and fifteen feet. Beyond the reef, it's a straight drop of anywhere from 2000-6000 feet! In the forest, we were told to keep our eyes peeled for wild iguana... sadly the only one I saw there was roadkill :-/

From there we headed to the Tortuga Rum Cake Factory. Remember when I mentioned that I'm glad I chugged the Coke before boarding the ship? Turns out: you either have to buy a soda plan with a special mug, or pay $2 a glass on the boat. So of course, even though Grand Cayman is probably one of the most expensive Western Caribbean islands (because everything on the island is imported), I still put down $3 for a 20 oz bottle of delicious, delicious soda. We also tasted a sample of some rather sweet rum cake (Larry swears it's his Nan's sherry cake recipe) and did a shot of some rum that tasted somewhere between rocket fuel, banana, and delicious. Oh and then I drove again. How's that for responsible? We made another stop at Hell, this weird coral formation in the middle of the island that looks like... well, hell. There I saw an iguana in a tree and nearly stepped on one that then ran up a coconut tree.

It was back to the beach for a couple of hours where we finally got to go into the ocean- it was so warm and clear. We even went snorkeling and saw lots of awesome fish just neck deep out. We added another layer to our tan and felt totally relaxed and exhausted after just a couple of hours in the waves. After a 2 hour clusterfuck nightmare trying to get back on the boat when we got on the last tender boat back to the ship, Larry had a little chat with the front desk and we ended up with a free dinner and a bottle of wine at the steakhouse on board (food is free, but they have upgradable dining experiences). The filet I had was bangin'. Larry's porterhouse was obscene. The wine- a carmenere- just perfect.

The next day we docked at Cozumel. We were up early again for our big ATV adventure in the jungle. As we got off the boat, we were surprised at how chilly it was, and saw the looming dark greyness on the horizon. As we waited in our excursion holding area at the port, we saw the darkness slowly begin to hide the landscape behind a thick grey veil. It was headed right towards us. We ran inside one of the portside shops for cover as the downpour hit. It was our first encounter with a Mexican pharmacia - where I could literally take my pick of otherwise prescription drugs in the United States. It was surreal.

The rain continued and we made our way through near ankle deep water toward the bus. The streets were flooded and yet our bus zipped along the highway at breakneck speed. We arrived and the rain subsided only long enough to watch our safety video. By this time, Larry and I were already soaked to the bone. As I picked up my helmet and said a little prayer for safety (I was pretty much terrified out of my mind to do this), the rain came down even harder. Great, I thought, just great.

The guide put me in third gear since this rattling gas heap of death was a semi-automatic ATV. Larry took the ATV in front of me and we were off - way faster of a start than I would have ever liked. There was a short rush of exhileration as I got up to about 40 miles per hour in that first flat stretch that turned to panic as we started hitting the rougher terrain. The trails were completely flooded. It was like riding through a river of chocolate milk. I'd zip along and then slow down suddenly when I'd hit dips of 2-3' deep waters, then gun the engine to slosh through it, mud flying all around me and all over me. I stalled twice (once shouting at Larry in front of me as he just sped away) when I slowed down too much in the water.

Never, ever again.

We reached the midway point of the adventure and took a break. It had stopped raining and you could see the sun straining to break through the thick layer of clouds above. Our guide Jaime took us to the top of a hill where we stood in the middle of Mayan ruins. As my back and arms ached from the ride so far, our guide told us about the history of the island of Cozumel. The Mayans are known for being a people who practiced human sacrifice, but none were performed at Cozumel. The island was sacred to the singular Mayan goddess, Ixchel. As the Mother Goddess, Mayans honored and respected her by not defiling her island with such sacrifices. And cue the "we can never really escape our infertility" moment: she was of course, the goddess of midwifery, birth, and fertility, so ancient Mayan couples (and even present day Mexicans) traveled to the island to conceive and venerate Ixchel. Supposedly, those that conceived on the island were blessed with very large families. Between our three guides alone were 19 children! (Jesus, the man who would save me from my two stalls, was father to 11 children. Um, nuts.)

Jaime made some jokes about this excursion featuring a special massage package: "So tell me, men, have you liked your cajones massage so far? And ladies, how is your boobies massage?" It was the first time I really cracked a smile, and we were back on the ATVs. "The rest of this is much easier, less rocky," Jaime promised.

Lies.

Yeah, he loved it.

Deeper, longer stretches of water, seriously rocky sharp turns, and the whole time I'm convinced I'm going to flip off and get crushed by this vehicle or drown, I'm not sure which first. The ATV was genuinely a bit tough to steer. Adding to the fact that I was smack in the middle of the line, I had to drive much faster than I wanted just to keep up. The sun managed to come out, as did the mosquitos and some huge, radiant butterflies. We finally made it back in one piece. Larry was grinning from ear to ear - he loved it. I was pretty much exhausted, soaked to the core, and ready to take a shower.

We went back to the ship covered in mud. I was freezing, as the wind was still going strong, so I just shivered the whole walk down the dock. After a hot shower, a clean change of clothes and a snack, we went back to the port to do a little shopping. We checked out all the various touristy shops, looked at some jewelry, cohibas, and endless bottles of tequila but only walked away with a magnet. We decided to stop by Señor Frog's, since we'd heard so much about "that's the place you have to go to in Mexico!"

Oh my. Oh my goodness, Señor Frog's. We managed to spend $33 on two yards (28oz) of pure fruity alcoholic madness between Larry and me, and get three free shots of tequila as we danced in a congo line where the waiters shot the alcohol from squeeze bottles into our open mouths as we passed them. I basically experiened a lifetime's worth of College Spring Breaks in about... 20 minutes. Yeah. 20 minutes and that much alcohol. I was wasted before we even got back onto the ship, which was only a 10 minute walk from Señor Frog's to the gangway.

And of course, we were heading to the ship's cinema for the lighting of the menorah on board. It was the first night of Hanukkah and I have to hand it to Norwegian - they had a rabbi on board, a hanukkiah with actual candles (and a fire extinguisher on hand), latkes and Manischewitz. We sang songs and said the blessings- from what I remember, it was lovely. About 60 people showed up, way more than I would have expected. It was nice.

I then headed back to the cabin where I pretty much passed out for two hours and slept off some of the shame that was Señor Frog's.

The rest of the time was at sea as we made our way back to Miami. I forget the blur of nights on the ship, but we saw two magic shows: one in the theatre (he made a helicopter appear onstage. The levitation bit at the beginning was cheesy, but I admit, the helicopter was pretty cool) and one in the cinema where he did nothing but sleight of hand card work. Admittedly the latter was the better show: I basically had to pick my jaw up off the floor. (I have a thing for magic.) We also saw two improv performances of a Second City troupe (best show on the boat) and one of the ship's performers' "shows." I use quotes because their show was just... a trainwreck. But whatever, it was free entertainment and we were happy to be entertained.

Before we knew it we were back in Miami, after some rather choppy waters on the way home. I never got seasick, but it did give me a headache. Best $80 of the cruise was spent on having our bags sent ahead to our plane from the boat. We breezed through Customs and had the whole day and early evening to explore Miami. We took a cab and made a beeline for South Beach.

I posted on Facebook that day that South Beach is basically a foreign country. There was a point at which Larry and I could have moved there, and so we kept looking at it through the lens of once-potential residents. We walked down the famous Lincoln Road, checking out all the shops and galleries. Art Basel 2010 was that weekend in addition to already being a pretty art-centric town to begin with. (I love the description of Art Basel from their website: "Art Basel Miami Beach is the most important art show in the United States, a cultural and social highlight for the Americas." Translation: I'm kind of a big deal.) We discovered an artist we hadn't heard of, Britto - he's got a thing for adorable cats. He's like Keith Haring on Prozac and E.

We made our way to the ever expensive and scenic Ocean Drive, passing hotel after hotel. At one point we passed a group of people, presumably family, that no joke looked straight out of National Lampoon European Vacation, when they're all wearing the ridiculous Italian "fashions" except the people that passed us were for real. Totally had to be in town for Art Basel. G-d, I hope so anyway.

We stopped down Espanola Way into the Spanish Village Historic District and ate... French. Very authentic French at A La Folie Cafe. From there we grabbed a quite bite of pretty amazing gelato and off to the beach. The water was surprisingly cold, so we just laid out and sunbathed for a couple of hours. As sunset approached, I whipped out the menorah I had been carrying in my purse (what can I say, I'm a prepared Jew) and we lit candles for the third night of Hanukkah right there on the beach. We strolled up and down Ocean Drive people watching and ogling the many very fast, very expensive cars that lines the street. I loved walking around and hearing various techno and electronica being played from every store. We even passed a clothing store- a clothing store!- where a live DJ was actually spinning tunes in the window. The urge to dance randomly was strong. Remember what I said about Miami being a foreign country? Yeah. Totes.

We grabbed a slice of pizza, got a second helping of gelato for the day, and took a cab to the airport. It was time to go home. In all, we had a really wonderful, relaxing time. You know it was a low-key trip as we only took about 150 pictures total (Japan we took something like, 900 pics and and hour of video). Although we're usually power-travelers who need something to do everyday and we did get a smidge cabin fevery on the last day at sea, it was nice just to have the freedom to relax. We had a lot of great "us" time.

Team Zoll has had another great vacation. Next year (and Larry's pinky-sworn to it): Israel!!!

Check out all of our vacation photos here online.

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Now, let's get back to getting some posts up about infertility again... I've had a lot brewing in my head the last week. Back to regular posting now - promise :)