L’shana tova, 5770

The summer of ’69 (5769, that is) is now past, and we welcome in a new Jewish year. Larry 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 Larry’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. Larry 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, Larry 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.