The thing I love about vacationing in Hubby’s homeland is I get a lot of reading done. It’s pretty chill around here. The first time Hubby brought me here, he had a full itinerary. We went everywhere, saw everything. Now, we’ve already seen it all, done it all, so we just hang out at his dad’s house, grab a meal or two with the rest of his family, bring his nephews presents from the States.
I picked up World War Z the other day, and I’m already halfway through it. Before that, mostly in the airports and planes, I read The Dovekeepers, by Alice Hoffman. I had started it well before the trip and was less than a third of the way through its 501 pages. I was excited to read this book, set in the place where Hubby had proposed to me, the site of so much death and destruction, where we had managed to experience the height of joy, overlooking the Dead Sea. It was supposed to be a book about strong, brave, independent women in a time when that, in itself, could be considered a crime.
And it was living up to my expectations…until the part where the desperate, bitter, barren woman kidnapped a child to try to keep her husband. Yep, even a modern interpretation of the first century just had to include that outdated–and offensive–cliche. Written from the perspective of a girl who’d spent most of her life dressed as a boy and fighting alongside warriors. I cannot wrap my brain around this paradox.
It once again left me wondering, where is the real story, our story, in popular media? We are the strong, brave women, who live every day outside the bounds of what is considered “typical” to pursue our dreams of a family. Aside from our blogs, which seem to be read mostly by people in similar situations, who is writing (and reading) our stories?
Please, give me some good examples, before I feel compelled to steal a baby.
Which, by the way, I see everywhere we go. That and pregnant bellies. I don’t know if there really are more of them here or if I just don’t have anything else to distract me from the ubiquitous evidence of everyone else’s seemingly normal reproductive abilities. Either way, I sometimes wish I could just close my eyes to it all.
Which would make it very difficult to get around, as Hubby and I discovered yesterday. At the children’s museum here, they have two interactive exhibits, where you experience, to some degree, what it’s like to function without sight and without hearing/speech. Yesterday we did the “blind” experience. We were given canes and led through a pitch-black maze of everyday scenes, like a park, a grocery store, a street, etc., by a guide who is visually impaired. It was disorienting, to say the least, and a little bit scary at first, not knowing what we were walking into. But it was also kind of fun.
The day before, we’d done the “deaf” experience, where we had to put on sound-dampening headphones and communicate with each other and our deaf guide using our hands, facial expressions, and gestures. Hubby joked that it was the most I’d communicated with someone in this country in all the times we’ve visited. Also super-fun and, given my background, not terribly difficult. Hubby had a bit of a harder time with it, but he enjoyed the experience, too.
As for our progress on the IVF front, we took our scripts to the pharmacy yesterday. Someone was supposed to call this morning to let us know they’d been ordered, but we haven’t heard anything so far. More waiting and seeing. We should be used to that by now.