infertility - Go Anyway Travel Blog

All I wanted was some gooey, mountain cheese

I think it’s only fitting that I return to my travel blog in a new year with a transformed voice. I’m not quite the same person I was just a few short months ago. After an unannounced hiatus to focus on progressive organizing and IVF, I’m exhausted and contemplative. I’m less concerned with creating perfectly curated content. There’s so much weighing on all of our minds, and I find myself inclined to forgive rawness. That should include my own. That said, I still care very much about building a space focused on the messy intersection of travel, parenting, and infertility (oh, and finances — they’ll definitely be part of our mess this year).

So, it makes sense to re-enter my “Go Anyway” space with the imperfect and chaotic story of our family trip to Duluth, Minnesota. If this trip were a board game, it would be littered with “lose a turn” squares, along with extra points, just when you least expect them.

The short version is that it probably wasn’t wise to plan a family trip up north in snowy December, just days after an IVF cycle. Pitfalls and emotions were abundant. As always, we learned a bit more about ourselves and who we are while traveling. This adventure was poorly timed, but it meandered its way into some great memories. Let’s dive into the plot twists and insights:

Nervous Planning (my special talent)

This trip was a long time in the making. I took a job as a campaign manager in my home state of Iowa this summer, which meant putting my travel plans on pause. As I knocked door after door and planned fundraisers with my candidate (who was amazing), I knew there was light at the end of the electoral tunnel. I hoped election-night success would be part of that light (it wasn’t), but I was sure there would be a grand adventure.

Of course, IVF has no regard for elections or travel plans. This election spat me out in a heap of grief and progesterone shots. Our next embryo transfer was just weeks away, and the task was to process the election results while accessing enough peace to become pregnant (good luck, me!). That left little time for my oft-daydreamed trip. But I’ve mentioned in the past that traveling helps us process both good and bad IVF news. We knew this trip would serve dual purposes: healing our political wounds and helping us transition into post-transfer life, whatever that might look like.

Our first plan involved a tour of “Christmas towns” across the Midwest. I considered Bardstown, Kentucky, along with Santa Claus, Indiana. Ultimately, this came out a little over budget. And, to be perfectly honest, we weren’t jazzed about traveling out of one bright red state and into a couple of others so soon after the election. Cue our second and final draft.

Bentleyville, in Duluth, MN, was visually stunning, but our two-year old wasn’t quite up to the cold temperatures while we visited during December of 2024.

This plan was a nod to Tim Walz fueled by my love for giant waves, an unfortunate passion for someone in the center of the U.S., but perhaps not a surprising one. When the ocean is too far off, Lake Superior is a first-place second choice. It’s mammoth and mind-blowing. On this trip, I was hoping to catch the end of November’s mighty gales. They would certainly fit my mood.

So, Duluth was our answer. We would stay at Fitger’s Inn (I have so many good things to say about them), explore Canal Park, and visit the Bentleyville Tour of Lights and the Great Lakes Aquarium.

Travel as Distraction

We booked our (refundable) room just days before our pregnancy test. When we got the call from our fertility clinic, it was hard to register a reaction. My emotions were stuck in an agonizing gridlock. HCG was present in my blood. That meant we weren’t not pregnant. But there wasn’t enough in my system to say with confidence that we were pregnant. And it was a Friday, which meant we couldn’t retest until Monday. Cue an absolute anxiety spiral over the next 72 hours. We were prepared to cancel our trip, but we hoped the cancelling would result from good news: a pregnancy requiring a bit of extra monitoring near home.

We got the news late that Monday morning that this outcome wasn’t ours. I had experienced a chemical pregnancy. My HCG level had dropped to nearly nothing, and the pregnancy was no longer progressing.

We had gone through failed embryo transfers before, but not in this particularly harrowing manner. I don’t have too many words for this pain, but I can say that anxiety somehow outweighed grief, even after we got the news. With just one embryo left, and insufficient money or time to try again, the pressure became overwhelming. We kept our travel plans as a way to decompress. Unfortunately, even our simple trip to Duluth was poised to come apart at the seams.

A Series of Pitfalls

We were set to head out of town on Saturday, December 7. So, naturally, the universe sent us an ice storm (Pitfall 1). The worst was due the morning we planned to leave. We agonized over rescheduling — we’re a bit desensitized to Iowa’s winters — and finally decided to postpone by a day. Fitger’s Inn had no qualms about moving our reservation, and they actually charged us less, since Sunday had a less expensive rate. We were off to a great start with them.

On Sunday, we woke up on time, packed the car, and got our toddler ready, all without much delay. We were in good shape. We spent the first four hours of the drive aimlessly rehashing the battle of “Friends” vs. “Seinfeld” (I’m not the world’s most ardent “Friends” defender, but I do loathe “Seinfeld”).

Our first stop would be a late lunch in Minneapolis. We were excited to visit the Minneapolis Christkindl Market. I’ve always enjoyed Christkindlmarket Des Moines, and this event promised to be even more expansive and grand. Plus, there would be raclette. This was actually the main reason I wanted to stop. I didn’t get the chance to truly be pregnant, but I still wound up with cravings.

With cheese in mind, I helped my husband navigate to the correct exit. We peeled off, and BAM: the deepest and most cavernous pothole I’ve ever encountered. It swallowed our passenger-side tires and sunk its teeth in immediately. When it was finished with us, we were left with an utterly undriveable car (Pitfall 2, in case you were wondering).

We hobbled to the nearest gas station, and I spotted someone who seemed to be a police officer (spoiler alert: he wasn’t). I regaled him with the Tale of the Dangerous Potholes That Shouldn’t Exist, and he stared back with ambiguous concern. Later on, my husband clued me in that he was probably an off-duty security guard, not a cop. Let’s call this panic-fueled embarrassment Pitfall 2.5, which we can couple with Pitfall 3: the compressed air wasn’t working. This doesn’t count as a full pitfall, because it wouldn’t have helped, anyway. Our tires were toast.

My husband had the presence of mind to take this photo of our completely obliterated tire during our pit stop in Minneapolis, MN, in December of 2024.

Not-an-officer gave us directions to a nearby tire store, and we made our way over. Quick backstory: My husband’s dream car is a Prius Prime, and we finally acquired one recently, after much to-do. The car is sleek and eco-friendly, as promised, but it’s not the best family-travel vehicle. Putting our daughter in her carseat requires too much awkward bending and kneeling, and room for luggage is scarce. The RAV4 Prime might have been a better choice. On this fateful afternoon in Minneapolis, tire size was the problem. The Prius Prime has extra large tires that Firestone would have to special order (Pitfall 4).

So, we spent our first night in a hotel fortuitously located right across from the tire store (in my imagined conspiracy, the intentional pothole leads to the nearby tire store that drums up business for the neighboring hotel). We did not make it to the Christmas market in time, even though it was walkable. Instead, I soothed my cheese craving with chips and queso, along with a black bean burger, at The Bulldog Downtown. Then, we settled in to wait.

Duluth, at Last

Fast forward to lunchtime the next day, and we were back on the road. The tire arrived overnight, and Firestone managed to squeeze us in as our daughter scattered Cheerios throughout their lobby. We had an amazing brunch at Eggy’s Diner, where I ordered — get ready for this — French toast stuffed with Nutella and peanut butter. Then, we headed north.

This Nutella and peanut butter French toast at Eggy’s Diner in Minneapolis helped soothe our frayed nerves. I ordered it without bananas during our visit in December of 2024.

I’m thrilled to report that a majority of the trip to follow was filled with joy. Our savior, Fitger’s Inn, casually upgraded us to a presidential suite at no extra charge when we arrived. Lakeside wind and gentle, playful snow swept us into our top-floor room with a fireplace, jacuzzi, and kitchen table. Major win.

Let’s break down Fitger’s. I absolutely love this destination. During summer, one of my favorite travel experiences is to traipse down a sunny, cobbled road, exploring the main-street coffee shops, book stores, pubs, and novelty shops. At Fitger’s, you’ll find all of this indoors, on the same campus as your hotel. The inn is located in a historic brewery, and the building houses an entire mall, complete with a taproom, coffee shop, bookstore, specialty grocery store, Mexican restaurant, and several other adorable shops. The whole place was decked out in vintage decorations for Christmas, and the vibe was very easygoing and classic.

This photo captures the magic I felt as we finally arrived at Fitger’s Inn in Duluth, MN, during our trip in December of 2024.

Of course, our room was impeccable. Clean, spacious, and utterly cozy. We’ve stayed at several hotels with jacuzzis over the years, and they can be hit or miss. Sometimes, the water won’t heat up to temperature, or the bubbles don’t work. This one filled up quickly, bubbled perfectly, and it was “just right”.

Canal Park, Bentleyville, Lake, Aquarium

To close out this lengthy but cathartic post, here are some highlights from our time in Duluth:

Canal District: A shopping area with a mood, beside the lake and the scenic Aerial Lift Bridge. At places of extremity, I always pick up a pleasantly suspenseful, chilling vibe, and this was no exception. We enjoyed the DeWitt–Seitz Marketplace, Father Time Antiques, and mozzarella sticks at Green Mill. If you’re exploring DeWitt–Seitz with a baby or toddler, note that the changing stations can be found in the restrooms on the ground floor.
Bentleyville: A sight to behold. However, our toddler was bothered by the cold temperature, even though we bundled up. She was wow-ed, but she was also crying as we left. The line for Santa was insane, so we didn’t wait. We did really appreciate the complementary popcorn, cocoa, and cookies. It’s nice to know families have access to the whole experience, regardless of income barriers, since entrances is also free. Parking does cost $10.00.
Lake Superior: We tried to hike in December with a stroller, and this was a weird choice on our part. We plan to revisit Split Rock Lighthouse State Park and try again when it’s warmer. Although Lake Superior was giving ripples instead of gales, we still got to see a couple breathtaking views at the park. And the hour-long drive up the coast was also enjoyable.
Great Lakes Aquarium: I’ll be sure to update my aquarium round-up post with more details, but in short, this was a lovely stop. We spent about two hours exploring. There was a very active octopus that put on a show, along with a spooky lamprey and an interesting exhibit about Lake Baikal (any Spooky Lake Month fans out there?).
Restaurants: I will be craving Pizza Luce every day of my life until we go back. They’re very vegetarian-friendly, and now, they’re the reason I can say I like pineapple on pizza. I ordered The Rustler, which also features BBQ sauce, banana peppers, and mock duck. My husband and I also adored Fitger’s Brewhouse, which offers its own wide variety of veggie options, including Minnesota’s famous wild rice burger.

As we head into 2025, I can’t promise the year won’t pummel me back into a second hiatus. We’re looking ahead at our final(?) IVF cycle, along with some financial hurdles and a mountain of political woes. That said, I’m currently excited about diving back in and (maybe) building an audience who will follow along with me. We’re tentatively planning to keep traveling on a budget, and I’ve got plenty of backlogged learning to post about. With finances in mind, I’m still hopeful about recouping some small returns from this blog someday. But for now, I’m satisfied to simply share.

A chapter in our story of secondary infertility and parenting

IVF comes with lots of questions, heartbreaks, needle pricks, and hopefully — eventually — a few triumphs. But it also comes with calendars. For fertility patients, conflicting calendars swirl around day-in and day-out, refusing to play nice and creating chaos. For me, one of the most difficult challenges of infertility has been learning to grasp all these calendars and weave them into a workable arrangement. Through this challenge, I’ve reinforced my belief in the importance of taking adventures, even when the calendars in my life say “no”.

Let’s take these calendars one at a time. For starters, there are the typical calendars: day-to-day plans, work schedules, holidays. These calendars alone sometimes dominate my life. From there, you have the more theoretical, long-term calendars. Rough timelines of future events, like buying a new house, or moving to a new city. Growing your family. Taking your daughter to Disney World for the first time.

Finally, there’s the IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) calendar. This one is a bit more concrete. Our fertility doctor sends us literal calendar files that detail when to start and stop certain medications and injections, when to go in for ultrasounds and blood draws, and the tentative dates for the big moments during IVF: egg retrieval and embryo transfer. There’s a bit of flexibility, but, if all goes well, the schedule is mostly fixed.

Those who have gone through infertility might recognize this combination of McDonalds fries, cozy socks, and a pineapple icon. All three are symbols of good luck associated with a successful embryo transfer.

The trouble is, there’s actually one more calendar at play: the overarching, unknowable calendar of the body. We all do our best to guess what this calendar might look like. Our clinic prescribes certain hormones at certain times to try and chart a course. But my body often responds in unpredictable ways. When this happens, another IVF calendar comes off the refrigerator and goes into the recycling bin, and we end up finding a way to fit the new one around the other plans we’ve carefully balanced. We’ve been doing this, again and again, for years.

Once, those calendars aligned with the stars and gave us our daughter. Subsequent pregnancy calendars and breastfeeding calendars eventually led to a new set of more abstract calendars. We started imagining all the adventures we would take with her. Her first time at the ocean, the apple orchard, the aquarium, the zoo, the science center…she was pretty young for all of these, but we had no regrets whatsoever. We had spent years daydreaming about these firsts, and we wasted no time starting to live those dreams.

For me, Disney World was among the most important adventures. Disney recurs again and again in my life, marking various milestones. It was my family’s first big road trip when I was eleven years old and one of the catalysts for my love of travel. The next year, we took a road trip with a stop at Disneyland. I returned to Florida with my high school’s music program and eventually went back as part of the Disney College Program in 2008. That year, I spent four months working long, hot shifts at ice cream carts and pretzel stands in Animal Kingdom…and I still managed to come away loving Disney. Years later, my husband and I returned for the first few days of our honeymoon. We even spent a day at Disneyland Paris in 2017.

It’s me! I’m absolutely loving our family’s first trip to Disney World in 1998. We visited in December, and I remember a “snowstorm” of suds that we danced in at one of the parks. This is a photo from that night.

So, it felt natural to start planning our daughter’s first trip to Disney on the early side. These plans were accelerated by another looming series of calendars. In late 2023, we started a new IVF cycle, in hopes of welcoming a new baby in 2025. This left us with a choice: Do Disney right away, in the middle of IVF, or wait until pregnancy, the newborn days, or later still. To me, it made the most sense to create that memory without delay, rather than postponing indefinitely until the most convenient time. After all, that’s the philosophy that led to the creation of this blog.

And I believe we made the right call. At home after the trip, it’s clear that our daughter’s brain lit up with new connections in Florida. She’s communicating with us more every day, and she’s pointing out an increasing number of things in her environment with even more curiosity than before.

We also created some major memories for all the big people, including my dad, who joined us and spent some dedicated bonding time with our daughter. These memories are already buoying me through our preparations for the next round of IVF injections.

We made the right choice taking the trip, but that doesn’t mean it was straightforward. The calendars in our lives did their best to befuddle our adventure. The easiest way share this part of the story is with a timeline:

December 2023: We prepare for a new cycle of IVF and start planning Disney
Early January 2024: We start the new cycle and book our first set of Disney dates
Mid-January: A cyst on my ovary stops our cycle dead in its tracks
Days Later: A second ultrasound confirms the cyst hasn’t resolved
Late January: We start a new cycle and deliberate over a new set of Disney dates that won’t interfere with our revised IVF calendar — or other, theoretical IVF calendars, in case this one also goes wrong
Early February: We change our Disney and flight dates to the only week in March that makes sense financially and practically — unfortunately, it’s Spring Break. If our cycle goes well, we’ll be finished with our egg retrieval, and we’ll take a natural pause during the trip. If the cycle is delayed again, we might end up traveling while I’m on birth control to prepare for a new cycle. This is doable, but not ideal, because I sometimes experience annoying side effects. We cross our fingers.
Mid-February: The cyst is still there, but smaller. We move forward with injections.
Late February: Our cycle is canceled. My ovaries create too few follicles, or spaces for eggs to grow. We’re devastated.
Early March: We wait to see when my next period will start. If it starts before Disney, I’ll need to take birth control on the trip (downside), but we’ll get to move forward with our next cycle more quickly when we return home (upside).
Five Days Before Disney: My period starts. We hurry in for an appointment and start our next cycle the day before we get on the plane.
Mid-March: We head to Disney! I take my birth control every night before bed in an attempt to avoid side effects…and it works!
Late March: We return home, prepare for another round of injections, and cross our fingers.

As you can imagine, this timeline was fraught with moments of anxiety and sadness between the major bullet points. More than once, we considered canceling the trip altogether. Worse still, we worried that this second attempt at IVF would ultimately fail. It was clear throughout our planning that we needed to prepare for all outcomes, both practically and emotionally.

Our Disney World honeymoon in 2016, complete with our “Happily Ever After” button!

To prepare practically, I researched all the fine print associated with rescheduling or canceling both our Disney dates and our flights, and I wasn’t surprised at all when that information came in handy. Both changes involved a lengthy phone conversation, but I walked away successful, having spent less than $200 extra for a new itinerary with one day added.

In terms of emotional preparations, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are some outcomes that will inevitably engulf you, regardless of how you steel yourself. Travel is a strategy I use to mitigate the waves of inevitable emotion throughout IVF. This time around, I obsessed over Disney restaurant reservations, ideal ride itineraries, and the nuances of Disney’s Genie + service rather than focusing all that energy on my unpredictable body. For the most part, the distraction worked. I put on a pair of Minnie ears, took my daughter’s hand, and we tackled the messy world with as much wonder as possible, while all the unknowns came our way.

Tag: infertility

All Things Messy: Disasters and Joy on the Road to Duluth