It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years. In some ways, September 11th, 2001 seems like so long ago. In others, I remember it like it was yesterday. I guess that makes sense. We tend to remember every detail of certain days in our lives—for me, it’s the happy ones like my wedding day and the birth of my children, as well as the sad ones like the day I lost loved ones, such as my grandparents. Of course, September 11th falls into the latter category—it was one horrific day I’ll never forget.

I was living in New York on that fateful morning. (To read more about my personal experience, read my previous blog post on the topic.)  And for the last 9 years, I’ve spent the anniversary with my husband watching news reports and commemorative TV specials late at night after our kids were asleep.

But this year is different. This will be the first year we will actually share the day with our children. And I was a little torn about just how to do that.

It seems my Huffington Post blog about the silence behind infertility yesterday struck a nerve with some people: In one day, more than 1,600 men and women recommended it on Facebook and 117 people shared their comments.

That’s not to say all the comments were positive ones. Many people argue that those with infertility should just stop “complaining” and adopt. Others assume is that IVF is the only form of infertility treatment. One even likens the “need” to have a child to the “need” to eat a pizza. And a few say that we already have made great strides and that infertility gets plenty of attention and coverage.

OK, I’ll admit it:  I can’t walk out of the grocery store without grabbing the latest issue of People or Us Weekly. I watch hundreds of movies and entire seasons of TV shows a year (thank you Netflix!). And I haven’t missed a Golden Globe or Academy Awards’ ceremony since I was 9 years old.

But despite my Hollywood obsession, I’ve never been compelled to read any celebrity memoir, even though there are plenty dominating Amazon. That is, until now. For some reason, I just had to pick up a copy of Portia de Rossi’s memoir, Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and Gain. For me, there was something about the Ally McBeal-eating disorder-journey to finding love with Ellen combination that I found irresistible. But while the book didn’t disappoint—actually I couldn’t put it down—it honestly scared the hell out of me.

I’ve been a health journalist for 14 years, and I’ve covered topics ranging from breast cancer and autoimmune diseases to depression and eating disorders. I always feel like I’ve “seen it all” as they say, and yet I’m still repeatedly shocked by certain medical issues that people face today. One that I recently came across really took me by surprise.

You probably already know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. There are reminders everywhere…stories in the media, breast cancer luncheons, fundraising walks, and pink ribbons at every turn. And I think it’s great that so much attention is paid to this horrible disease. But what most people don’t realize is that September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness month. It seems to get lost in the shuffle.

Being a health writer, I’m always hearing about the latest in nutrition, exercise, disease prevention, what have you. And I often take the info I’ve learned and try to infuse it into my family’s life as well. However, recently I took a step to greatly improve my family’s health, and I had no idea I was doing so at the time. You see, just a few months ago, my husband and I finally decided to add a dog to our family. We had both grown up with dogs, and we wanted to care for one on our own.