Why I’m here

Yesterday outside of my daughter’s pre-school, I connected with another mom who I knew to be new in the community. We chatted for a few minutes, she moved here from Gush Etzion (yes, the area outside of Jerusalem where a few of the recent rockets hit). She asked me where I was from and how long I’d been here. “I grew up in NY, made Aliyah from NJ. We’ve been in Israel almost 4 years now,” I say in unfaltering Hebrew, with a little disbelief. This Chanuka will mark our fourth year in Israel. 

Her response was something I’ve heard a few times recently, “I am so impressed with those who choose to leave America and come to live in Israel. It must be so hard. It gives us strength when we see this.” And after 4 years, I have fashioned a response, “It’s not easy. Especially leaving family. But this is where the future of the Jewish people is, so thank God, we are here.”

Afterwards, I found out that her husband had just left to join the IDF reserves preparing to enter the war in Gaza. 

~~~~

We had only been here a few weeks when our 3rd child was born. Traditionally, the Friday night after a son is born a small celebration is held to welcome him to the world. (P.S. nowadays, I am pleased to say, many people will do this when their daughters are born as well!) We didn’t know that many people yet, not well. But many people in the community knew us – the new family that just moved from America! We were a sensation! A novelty. There hadn’t been English speaking Olim moving to Katzrin in many years. So there ended up being quite a turn out. 

Yoram spoke briefly in his broken Hebrew, thanking the community for their warm welcome and thanking God for our beautiful, healthy son. A man asked him why we came here. So Yoram told him. No matter what we had in the US, Israel is our homeland. This is where we are meant to be. And why specifically the Golan? We fell in love with it. Our souls told us that this is where we belong, and we stayed.

Several of our guests had tears in their eyes. They told us that we “strengthen them.” 

~~~~

The story of my Aliyah started before I’d ever even visited Israel.  I was in seventh grade. It was 1993, I was 13 years old, living in NY and starting to feel a little bit of freedom. Most days I rode my bike to school or took the city bus with my friend. On Sundays I was allowed to go to the mall on my own… the first signs of growing up. And of course, along with all that came the other side of finding my autonomy – fighting with my parents, struggling to do the right thing – even when it was also what my parents wanted me to do. I can remember a few mornings where I left my house after quarreling with my mother about homework, or housework, or boys, or music… feeling self-righteous, and wronged, and wrong, and sorry. And knowing that after recess, I’d see my mom in class and apologize (she was my science teacher that year!), or maybe when we got home if it had been really bad. We’d hug and say, “I love you,” it would all be ok.

When the terror attacks started in Israel, I started feeling very scared and unsettled. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. We were saying special prayers in school, and doing things to support Israel from afar. The international community started crying “Land for peace” and of course everyone had an opinion. I remember feeling frustrated hearing my parents and their friends discussing what Israel “should do” about the intifada. Easy for us to yell and fight around a Shabbat table 6000 miles away about whether or not it was worth trying to give the Arabs some of Israeli land in exchange for a promise of peace. Easy for us to discuss the lives of the citizens of Israel and of the soldiers and their families while we sat and drank Chivas and ate herring and gefilte fish (Ok, I didn’t drink the Chivas, but the grown ups did.). It just felt wrong.

And then one of the terrorist bombs was detonated on a city bus near Bayit VeGan in the morning. Almost all the victims were kids on their way to school. Like me. Had they fought with their moms for being late or not doing homework? Did they have any premonition, did they somehow know that this would be the last time they would board a city bus for school? The last time they’d have to worry about what they were wearing or if they would pass the test or get invited to a party or get that part in the play? Did they know?

When I was 13 I made a decision. If I’m going to learn about it, and I’m going to pray about it, then I’m going to do it. Am Yisrael, the Jewish Nation belongs in Eretz Yisrael. It’s not fair that Jewish kids my age living in our Homeland shouldn’t be able to get on the bus in the morning without fearing for their lives while I go about my own life happy and safe in NY. 

We had a cleaning lady at the time named Myrtle, a middle aged Black lady with whom I shared my deepest thoughts while helping her clean the kitchen, including my conviction to move to Israel as soon as I was old enough. She asked me why I would move to a war-torn country, if I’d be willing to leave my family, what was so important about it? I’ve grown a lot in 20 years, matured, seen some things, changed my mind about many many – most, of the ideas I had when I was 13. But the answers I gave Myrtle are the same answers I give now, if a little better articulated. Eretz Yisrael is all we learn about, it’s all we pray for. It is where our past and future resides. It’s the only place I can imagine raising my children. Eretz Yisrael is my Homeland.

Where else in the Middle East…?

I suppose it’s time dust off this old blog and start writing again. Who knew it would take a war to get me back here?

While rockets are flying and CNN is lying and all the rest of us are just trying to figure out where to stand (and what supplies to put in our safe rooms) I wanted to share a snippet of seemingly unrelated life.

Yesterday morning I met with a lawyer in a city in Northern Israel for the second time, her name is Sachar.

She owns her law office and has 2 assistants and one other lawyer working there. My purpose was just as a translator for a new Olah (let’s call her Shira) who needed Sachar’s services.

Sahar called my cell phone at 8am to confirm the appointment. First she asked me if I was alright and if everyone was doing ok, something about the concern in her tone made me connect the question to the operations in Gaza. Then she reminded me of some things that Shira needed to bring along with her for the appointment.

During the appointment, I read the diplomas on her wall. Sachar graduated from Bar-Ilan university and had certificates from a number of other Israeli institutions.

While we were there she took a call from a client. I heard her compassionately tell her client that she would make sure to meet with the client’s brother and mother and that she will do the maximum to ensure that the client on the phone got all the help they needed. She took another call that I couldn’t follow because she was speaking in Arabic.

I’m not sure if Sachar is a Druzi woman or an Israeli Arab, but she’s certainly not a Palestinian (which is a made-up nationality created when Israel was under the rule of the British Mandate, Jewish old timers who lived here before 1948 call themselves Palestinian, too). She knows as well as you do that there isn’t anywhere else in the entire Middle East where an educated Arab woman can own a law office, where a professional Arab woman can call her assistant in to her office to make copies at the copy machine a foot from her desk, while she sat and continued to focus on her client. Only in Israel.  

Today was Shira’s court hearing to which I accompanied her. I wasn’t allowed into the hearing but stood outside and peeked through the door occasionally to see if I could get a sense for how it was going. Sachar caught my eye at one point (she had to turn around to check if I was watching) and gave me an encouraging nod to let me know things were going well.

After the hearing, which seems to have gone well for both parties, Sachar briefed me on what happened so I could help Shira with the next steps and gave Shira a hug and reassured her that everything would be just fine! Having be involved from the beginning of Shira’s saga and in touch with Sachar a few times over the course of it, she and I also hugged and I told her how compassionate and thorough and caring she is. 

Outside of the Middle East there are many free countries, where women of any ethnicity have equal (or quasi-equal rights) but in this region, there is only one. Only in one country, roughly the size of New Jersey, situated on a continent twice the size of the US, can a woman like Sachar get an advanced education, and become an independent business owner and a lawyer. Only in Israel. 

What I learned today

~I don’t know anything at all about the deep rooted, intricate relationship between secular and religious Israelis.

~there is more  to be learned from body language than from what is actually being said.

~ I can walk from my house to the municipal building in 5 minutes when I’m late for a meeting.

~ there is no limit to how much dirty Asa’el can attempt to consume and likewise no limit to how many folds and creases must be changed after he plays outside.

~ If I don’t write then I can’t call myself a writer, so I’m going to just write and see what happens.

Afternoon happiness

Against the beautiful backlight of a pre -summer Golan afternoon,we glimpse gentle moments of happiness.

Do you bite just because the hook is there?

Here fishy fishy fishy! It may have worked for Ernie, but I think humans have more sense than to take the bait just because it’s dangling in front of them.

Ok, maybe I’m giving too much credit to the species, but certainly the subcategory of “parents” are more discerning when it comes to decisions about their kids.

The analogy is even more appropriate than i originally thought, because according to this article my the Jerusalem Post, the decision to make preschool free is actually just bait on a deadly hook.

Free preschool may not be a golden ti… JPost – Opinion – Op-Eds.

 The author implies that putting our young children into public school programs could cause them irrevocable harm that they will later grow up to pay for, quite literally, in taxes.  

While the information about preschool education might be verifiable, her implications as to the result of this decision seem very far-fetched.

Here’s the recap: The Israeli gov’t decided to offer free education through the public school system starting from age three. Until now, only the last year of pre-school was free. The underlying motive for the decision is to allow parents to enter the workforce without having to factor in the cost of preschool.

Today, parents of young children have many options for early education, ranging from Savta, home-run mishpachtons to more formal private schools.

Yes, and why would free public school change that?

Just because something is free doesn’t mean that I will choose it. For example, one of the reasons we looked forward to Aliyah was because here in Israel there are public schools that are religious and we could conceivably give our children a quality Jewish education for free. Facts on the ground are that we chose to send our 7 year old to a private school and to pay for his education, despite the availability of a very good religious public school right here in Katzrin. We chose this because a Montessori-style school opened up in the Golan and we felt very strongly that a more experiential learning environment was going to be essential for Netanel Shlomo and that the formal learning environment would be detrimental to him. Next year, when we make this decision for our daughter, we might choose the local school. But as decent parents, we are making the decision based on all the factors – first and foremost being the needs of our child.

The implication in the article, to my reading, is that parents will throw their children into preschool, whether they think it’s a good idea or not, because it’s free.

I think this is an interesting piece of writing on the issue of what age is ideal for a child to start school (if at all, in the case of those who choose to homeschool), but I don’t think it’s related to the new law. Parents who were going to send their kids to public gan anyway are thrilled to be able to cross that expense of their list. Parents who wished they could send their kid to public gan so they could work, but couldn’t afford it, are thrilled because they can now increase their income. And parents who don’t think that preschool is a good choice for their child, or who prefer private preschools, or who wouldn’t be going out to work anyway are completely unaffected by this development.

Attention Israelis! You don’t have to complain about everything the government does! Some decisions they make are actually decent! Save your anger for the things that count, like the fact that a 5-day long strike was tolerated and the union leaders weren’t thrown in jail like they should have been! Now that’s something to complain about. Deciding to alleviate some expenses from hard-working citizens… not so much.

Birth story of Asa’el (finally!)

Birth story of Asa’el

Oct 14^th, 2011/ 16 Tishray 5771

4:24pm

6lbs 12oz/3kg  19.5”/50cm

My labor had drawn out over the course of the past month, with the rushes building in intensity each time, but then inevitably petering out at some point. I got to the point of going out for long walks, pushing my 2 year old son around Katzrin in the stroller, etc… in the hopes of encouraging my body to keep the contractions coming.

Thursday was the first day of Sukkot, and I went to shul having strong rushes. Joked with some of the women about how the baby was just going to fall out at some point. I schlepped the up-hill road home, stopping for many of the rushes. When we got home, things calmed down a bit, but didn’t stop completely. I spent the late afternoon at a neighbor’s house chatting while the kids played and wondered if this could really be it.

After Havdalah, we got the kids to bed and the rushes were still coming on. I decided to take a shower and give it another hour. At around 9pm I called Chava. We decided that the best thing to do was for the team to be on alert, but to allow me my space for as long as possible. My rushes continued to come, whether I was standing, sitting, or lying down, but they weren’t finding a pattern and they weren’t consistently strong either. I was feeling concerned that I might be getting “stage fright.” Meaning that knowing that there were people waiting to hear how my labor was progressing was having a negative effect on the labor. So I called my friend Miriam, who has a full supply of homeopathic remedies, and asked her to bring me some gelsemium. She is also a talented photographer, and I had asked her if she would be willing to photograph my birth. So when she came, I think it was close to midnight, she brought several birth-related remedies, her camera, and another friend, Natasha who was going to be on childcare duty (which was light work at the time, since they were all asleep!).

I took the remedy and labored for a while. Yoram was amazing. Every time a rush would come on, he would be right there swaying and moaning with me, putting pressure in my lower back, or massaging my shoulders. At around 1am I called Chava back and she was on the phone through a contraction. Her reaction, “Ok, I think it’s time for us to head over!”

I don’t really remember much of the rest of the timeline, at some point Chava arrived, and then Naomi arrived. Miriam and Natasha were still hanging out and things were going ok. Then Yitzchak woke up. Then Odeliya woke up. They hung out for a bit, we ate fruit, Miriam got some lovely pictures! But then Naomi and Chava noticed that my rushes were spacing out. When the rushes came, they were no less intense, although they weren’t getting stronger, and they definitely were doing the opposite of getting closer together. So the Midwives suggested that Miriam and Natasha go home for a while, and that they take the two children with them. Netanel stayed asleep, but Natasha said to call her if he woke up and she would come collect him. At some point towards morning, he did wake up and Natasha was true to her word. Chava and Naomi made themselves scarce and tried as best as possible to create a private space for me and baby to do our thing.

I started to realize that there was something my body was resisting. I was too alert, too present. In the past, as birth became imminent, my mind would get out of the way and let my body take over. And that’s when labor would get increasingly more intense and I would lose myself to the process and allow the power of Birth to consume me. But I wasn’t going there, and I started to suspect some post-trauma. In my last birth, it was at the point where I did allow my mind to disconnect that everything started going haywire, and I put my trust into a midwife who had decided before she turned up that she was going to find a way to deny me a homebirth. So when she said, “the head is too high” and “I’m feeling swelling around the baby’s head” and “I think we need to call an ambulance” I was unable to respond with what I was thinking because my thoughts and my voice were no longer connected. I wanted to say, “but I’m ready to push.” Or “that doesn’t make any sense.” Or just, “no, I’m not going!” but I couldn’t anymore. I had allowed myself to go to a place of trust and believing that my care provider was going to actually care for me, and instead she betrayed me and abandoned me.

So here I was 2+ years later and even though I knew without any doubt that I had two amazing and trustworthy midwives attending me, and even though I knew that this time was completely different and that I was safe and my space was safe and me and my baby were safe; even though I knew that the only circumstance in which we would transfer to the hospital was if there was true danger to me and my baby (and not the midwife’s bank account), my body wasn’t ready to fully believe that.

I processed a lot of this on my own, much of it after the fact, and some of it with Yoram, and with Chava. We processed some other things also, and did some tapping, and I did some crying. I felt that it helped. My body, however, had its own agenda and that was protection. After 12 hours of hard labor, I was 4cm dilated and my little guy’s head was not engaged. When Chava checked me, she felt that something was off with his position, because she knew from palpating that the baby was head down, but she said that what she was feeling felt more like a knee! That oddity was explained when we finally saw his little knobby head! That got us thinking of different laboring positions to try to encourage the baby to get into a better position and engage.

Sometime in the late morning, Chava realized that this baby was going to be born sometime on Friday night, so she decided to go home and get her home and family organized so that they could function without her for the weekend, since once Shabbat came in, she wouldn’t be permitted to go home. Before she left, she, Naomi, Yoram and I discussed our options with this labor that didn’t want to kick into gear. One option of course, was to do nothing and leave it alone. Option 2 was to start what I’m going to call a “natural augmentation regimen” of herbs, homeopathics, and nipple stimulation. I was feeling very strongly at this point that my body needed to be convinced that it was safe for me to have my baby right where we were with the wonderful attendants that we had. So I opted for #2.

Chava left with instructions to be called as soon as the labor picked up. Naomi said she wanted me to try to rest for an hour and then we would start. I lay on the couch and allowed myself to savor the 20 minutes between contractions instead of stressing that they were so far apart.

An hour later, Naomi brought out the breast pump and we started 15 minutes of pumping on each side with a 15 minute break in between. She gave me a dose of labor herbs and several minutes later, a homeopathic. I don’t know how quickly it kicked in, but ooooh man did that work! Very soon after that, we were at 10 minutes apart lasting a minute each and knocking the wind out of me each time. I moaned and sang and groaned and swayed. Mostly I would get on hands and knees and Yoram and/or Naomi was right there with me pushing into my sacrum or massaging my shoulders or both. I started to not remember much between rushes and that was a really good sign that I was forcing my body to take over.

 I was desperate to get into the pool, but I knew my newly invigorated labor was still so tenuous so I resisted. Then I started feeling pushy. I said I was going to go into the shower. Naomi said not to let it get too hot and to call her if I felt I was pushing. Yoram stayed nearby and popped in and out of the shower to check on me. The rushes started coming on strong, and on top of each other and I squatted down and knew that if I stayed there I was going to push out a baby. But the sensation was overwhelming and way too strong. I was suddenly terrified and called Yoram to help me get out of the shower. Naomi asked if she could check me since I was feeling so pushy. I agreed. She informed me that nothing had changed internally. She was completely unconcerned by this, and although I was a bit shocked, I took my cue from her and remained calm. She just said it meant I had more work to do before the end.

Something about that made me realize this was all in my head. There was a cloud of fear around me and it was having an effect on the whole process. I needed to surrender, to completely let go. Words popped into my head like hospital and pitocin. Images of fluorescent lights and faceless white-coated people bustling around me came unbidden to my mind’s eye.

I went back to my nest on the couch and carried on with the pumping, and with every rush as the pressure mounted, I pushed into it. I opened up. “Baby,” I said, “this is it, we’re doing this right now!” I pushed into each peak, roared into it, opened up to it, burned into the all-consuming power that was flowing through my body. I let it hurt and burn, but something was still stopping me.

I was kneeling on the floor over my birth ball, and my knees and ankles were hurting. My hips were hurting. These peripheral pains were distracting me. I needed to get in the pool. It was only 2 hours after Naomi had checked me and I knew she would be concerned about the water slowing things down, but I knew I’d passed the threshold, there was only one way to go from here.

Yoram made sure the water was nice and warm and I got in to the pool. The world around me slipped away. I was aware that Miriam had called and that Yoram told her she should come over with her camera. I was aware that it would be Shabbat very soon and I was aware that Chava was on her way back. But that awareness slipped away into the recesses of my consciousness. I was consumed by the Divine energy of Birth in all her fury and vivid beauty and intensity. I felt my baby barreling down through my pelvis and in that contraction my water broke. Breathlessly, I said, “Yoram the baby’s coming and I need a break!” The contraction didn’t stop, pushing wasn’t a process, it was a thing that was happening to me within the span of a few minutes. There was fear in those seconds, and I dispersed. But Yoram and Naomi gathered me in, they re-centered me and I let go. I felt him coming down and the intensity was overwhelming and I roared and thought my pelvis was going to explode! And then he was there, in my arms, slippery and slimy and beautifully pinkish-purple.  I knew he was a boy without checking, he was so present with me and I gathered him onto my chest and heaved with joy and relief! He opened his beautiful dark eyes and fixed me in a stare that was unbreakable. I was smitten.

He was doing this gurgling thing, and Naomi said calmly, “it would be good if you kissed him and give him some air,” so I did, and then he let out a reassuring, heart-rending wail! What a beautiful sound! He calmed right down though as I massaged him and we covered him with towels, and Miriam snapped away.

My beautiful little guy had come barreling out with no molding, all 13 inches of his head circumference, so I was pretty sure all those muscles that had done that work weren’t going to be much use in pushing out the placenta. So I got out of the pool onto chux pads layered on the couch. Then Chava walked in. She was in shock that she had missed the birth! She and 

Naomi helped settle me and helped me get out the placenta, and Miriam went out to the Sukkah to light candles for herself and for me.

Naomi encouraged me to allow the baby to just rest on my belly and not to force him to the breast, and I knew what that was about, because I had seen the video of the self-latching babies in my doula course. And he did it! He wormed his way, head bobbing, up my chest and latched himself right on to my left breast! It was amazing!

And even more amazing was the fact that I had no tearing at all – not even a skid! I am so grateful for that! The joints of my pelvis are still a little sore, three months later! So I’m glad that I didn’t also have to recover from tearing.

After a little while I showered and got settled in my bed and Natasha brought the kids back, and Naomi left and we started to welcome our new little light into the world.

I was blessed to have Chava be there as a post-partum doula for the first 25 hours after birth! I don’t know how we would have been able to get through Shabbat without her.

At some point while Naomi and Chava were checking the baby and weighing him and so forth, I had leaned over to Yoram and said, “I am having  a thought about this baby’s name.” “Yeah? I also have something in mind,” he answered. We agreed that as soon as we had some time alone we’d discuss it. Later that night, I was sitting on my bed nursing our new baby, and Yoram was sitting in his bed, and it was quiet. “So what was the name you were thinking of?” I asked. Yoram said, “I’m thinking Asa’el.”

So was I. The last time we had mentioned that name was when we were making a name list during my first pregnancy, so it seemed very clear that when we both independently came back to it at that moment, that Asa’el was our baby’s undisputed name. (It means “God’s work”)

It has taken me almost 3 months to put this story down in words. There was a lot of processing that I’ve gone through in that time. Here are some of my thoughts:

One of the things I had prayed for specifically and consistently throughout this pregnancy was that the birth should be a healing experience for me. I feel that Hashem granted me that in every way. Asa’el’s birth was very clearly a tikkun for the traumatic birth experience that I had with Yitzchak. Down to the minutest details.

We moved into this house at around 33 weeks, which is where I was at when we moved to Katzrin in May of 09. I had a team of 2 fabulous midwives who fully and completely trust birth, women, and themselves. About 2 weeks before I gave birth, I had a true “false alarm.” Meaning that I truly thought I was going to give birth, Chava, Naomi and my friend Tziona who was to be my doula, came out. After a full night of on and off labor, my contractions petered out. But no one was annoyed or upset.  I think my body did that to subconsciously test that this would be different from the last time. And then during my actual labor, which lasted a whopping 20 hours, 16 of which saw no “progression” and nobody was thinking of a transfer. All the indications were that me and the baby were doing well, so there was nothing to worry about. The decision to take action was entirely mine. Chava, who I had considered my midwife more than Naomi, actually left in the middle of labor and missed the birth! I had the experience of her leaving, but knowing fully that I wasn’t being abandoned. Firstly because Naomi was there the entire time and she was amazing. And secondly because it was clear that Chava was loving me and the baby, and that her leaving was to facilitate her being able to be completely present with me when she returned. And then she was with me for that critical post-birth time, which was actually when the midwife had left me at the mercy of the hospital with Yitzchak. Also, something I’m seeing just now in the re-telling is that in the ambulance when Yitzchak was born, he was limp and blue and that midwife actually did tell me to give him a breath, which I did and he pinked up. This time, Asa’el was alert and fine, but hadn’t been too eager to really take in that first gulp of air, and Naomi also told me to breath into his mouth.

I feel a strong significance to all these details and I feel so whole and healthy, where there had previously been a deep chasm. I am so grateful for this birth, for Asa’el, for my midwives, for Yoram. I feel so deeply blessed.

Girl Power!! I love my daughter!

Overheard this morning:

Netanel: Odeliya! We’re playing Star Wars! I’m Luke and you’re Princess Lea, Ok?

Odeliya: Ok. (then she goes running into the other room)

Netanel: No! Princess Lea, don’t go in there, there are bad guys!

Odeliya: I don’t care, I’m strong. I can kill them.

yeah!!!! Now note her costume:

Star Wars: The Ballet!