"Bali is a fertile place," I was told upon arriving at the Indonesian island. Although these words were issued as a warming to cover up any cuts and thus avoid the risk of infection, they struck a deeper chord in me. 
The land breathes fertility. The atmosphere is infused with the dazzling green vitality of terraced rice fields, the richness of ritual, the omnipresence of children, and a deep and fruitful integration of the sacred, the daily, and the aesthetic. And it was there, in Bali, that I discovered my own fecundity. Two days after giving the customary offerings for fertility far within the womb of Goa Gaja (Elephant Cave), I found out I was pregnant.
Although both my partner and everything familiar were on the opposite side of the earth, I could not have made this discovery in a better place. Pregnancy in Bali is considered a great blessing. Children are revered as celestial beings recently descended from the realm of the gods and goddesses. The word for great-grandchild is in fact the same as the word for great-grandparent, and refers to being close to heaven. To preserve their divine nature, Balinese children under the age of six months are not allowed to touch the earth. And when they do for the first time, the event is heralded with ceremony.
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