My Vacation to Bali Did Not Give me a Baby

The air was legitimately fertile. It felt heavy with heat as the Balinese bugs buzzed and butterflies floated around. There were large green palm leaves framing every entrance and red hibiscus, anthurium, and orchids everywhere you looked. We were literally staying in the middle of a rainforest and I was dripping sweet sweat, my skin slightly red from the sun. Bali had made me feel more alive than any other moment in my thirty one years.

At the close of our trip, we checked out at eleven and hired a driver to take us around. We landed at the Titra Empul Temple, which is dedicated to Vishnu considered to represent preservation. The public park is filled with Balinese temples and is home to a healing pool. Danny and I purchased the robes necessary to wear for cultural reasons and got changed in the dressing room. We headed to the lines of people to anoint ourselves under the twelve fountains wearing our green and red robes. The water was biting but the air was so warm that it felt possible though not comfortable. At each fountain, I said the Hail Mary, raised Catholic — it seems that ritual can’t fall away from me — and slowly moved in a line after the other people waiting amongst the canang saris floating in the water as an offering in praise and prayer to the Balinese Hindu gods. Greens, yellows, pinks, and reds floated in the water around us as the grey sky sprinkled a…