Yesterday Raphaela and I spent three hours at the Pediatric Ophthalmology Unit at Hadassah Hospital, getting her vision reassessed. Raphaela was hoping that after the last year of being really good and wearing her glasses all the time, the doctor would tell us that at the very least her eyes had improved, and ideally, giving us a date when she would no longer need her glasses at all.
Instead, we got a lovely pep talk, "Stability is a Good Thing!" And yes, while I am grateful that her astigmatism has not gotten worse in the last year, both of us were admittedly a little disappointed.
I knew that her eyes would be sensitive after all the tests and the dreaded eye drops, so I had brought sunglasses for Raphaela to wear, on our walk back to the parking lot and to the car. Unfortunately I brought the wrong pair, they were mine actually, and they kept slipping off Raphaela's face.
I apologized and said, "Mommy made a mistake, I'm sorry."
A Israeli woman in her 40's, sitting near us during this exchange, immediately added her (unsolicited) opinion: "Oh no, a Mommy is not allowed to make mistakes. Parents are never wrong!""
I replied, mostly for myself and so Raphaela would hear, "That was exactly my point. People, especially parents, are still human beings, and we are not perfect. I think it is important for a child to know that even their mother or father can be wrong on occasion, and that it is always appropriate to acknowledge the other and apologize."
Showing posts with label Hadassah Hospital. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hadassah Hospital. Show all posts
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Labour Day
Five years ago on this day, October 1, I went into labour in the evening, after being told that I was not open AT ALL (true), and that I was two weeks over due (which I was not); the doctor threatened that I would have to be induced if he didn't see some action by the end of the weekend.
Twelve hours later, and after a completely natural (painful) birth, my darling amazing light-filled daughter came into the world, and quite literally, my life has never been the same. All that happened before, all I learned and experienced BR ("Before Raphaela") started me on the journey of motherhood. AR ("After Raphaela") I cannot imagine who I would be and where I would find such joy and frustration and wonderment on a daily basis, if not for Raphaela.
My sweetest dearest girl, may you continue to be blessed with health and happiness, growth and wisdom, and may I continue to be able to help you along the path of becoming a fulfilled and completely realized human being.
I can't wait to see what comes next.
Monday, September 1, 2014
A Year Older
The physical therapist had suggested a group physical activity, in order to increase Raphaela's self-confidence in a group setting. The Talmud states that it is the parent's supreme responsibility to teach a child how to swim, literally a matter of life and death. I figured that we had taken a break from swimming lessons, and I love the water: I had worked for many years as a lifeguard at a lake near our house in Boston. Since Raphaela has shown so much maturity this Summer, why not try again.
I found a class down the block from our house, and the director of the swim program seemed quite efficient and understanding of the psyche of young children. We arrived at the pool this evening, Raphaela spent ten to fifteen minutes rolling around the floor, explaining that she refused to go into the pool because she did not like the ladder; it was one of those ladders that perhaps seems scary because it is carved in the side of the wall. Then when she finally agreed to go into the water, she held onto the instructor Anna for dear life, practically choking the poor woman; after screaming, "This is too hard, too hard!, she was eventually asked to leave the pool.
The director of the pool swimming classes suggested that (a) perhaps Raphaela is too young for lessons or (b) perhaps we need to start with a series of private one-on-one classes to help overcome the fear or (c) I should randomly take Raphaela to the pool with me and "play around" and blow bubbles until she increases her comfort zone. In any case, I await his call.
On the way home, Raphaela asked me if I was angry at her, if she was going to get a punishment. I assured her that I cannot be angry at her if something scares her, but that I would be quite disappointed if she doesn't even give new experiences a try. I told her that very often, things do not go your way the very first time, and you must push through failure in order to get better and have that satisfaction of knowing that you overcame your fears.
"But I want my life to be easy. Easy EASY. Easy peasy lemon squeezy!"
I reminded Raphaela that for example, when she was a baby, she didn't know how to walk. And that when she decided to start walking, there was lots of falling and mis-steps. And that if she had given up on walking, she would not be a big girl today, a girl in Kindergarten who can walk and run and jump and skip and hop and climb ladders and dance.
Then I asked Raphaela if she had any ideas about what she wanted to be when grew up. She immediately answered, "A soldier and a doctor, and a doctor for soldiers and animals."
Mommy: Those are wonderful goals. Do you think it is hard or easy to learn to be a doctor?
Raphaela: Easy.
Mommy: Nope! Mommy had to work very hard and learn a lot of things and take a lot of tests to become a doctor. I work hard every day too. If you want to be a doctor some day, and I am sure you will make an excellent grown-up, you will have to work hard.
Raphaela: Why?
Mommy: Because if you give up and don't try, you will never know what you are truly capable of.
Raphaela was quiet on the way home, and when I tucked her in tonight, I looked her straight in the eyes and told her this story: "Mommy really wanted to be your Mommy, and I went to the hospital and ate healthy and exercised and prayed to G-d, asking for the most special and wonderful baby Raphaela. It didn't work right away, it certainly wasn't easy, and I kept asking G-d to help me and I cried a lot, but I kept trying, I never gave up. Because if I had said, 'This hurts too much, this is too hard,' if I had stopped trying, I wouldn't be the luckiest Mommy in the world right now. And I am so glad that I kept trying and finally got my dream."
Post-script: Tomorrow afternoon we are scheduled to scope out a pre-ballet class. Oy.
I found a class down the block from our house, and the director of the swim program seemed quite efficient and understanding of the psyche of young children. We arrived at the pool this evening, Raphaela spent ten to fifteen minutes rolling around the floor, explaining that she refused to go into the pool because she did not like the ladder; it was one of those ladders that perhaps seems scary because it is carved in the side of the wall. Then when she finally agreed to go into the water, she held onto the instructor Anna for dear life, practically choking the poor woman; after screaming, "This is too hard, too hard!, she was eventually asked to leave the pool.
The director of the pool swimming classes suggested that (a) perhaps Raphaela is too young for lessons or (b) perhaps we need to start with a series of private one-on-one classes to help overcome the fear or (c) I should randomly take Raphaela to the pool with me and "play around" and blow bubbles until she increases her comfort zone. In any case, I await his call.
On the way home, Raphaela asked me if I was angry at her, if she was going to get a punishment. I assured her that I cannot be angry at her if something scares her, but that I would be quite disappointed if she doesn't even give new experiences a try. I told her that very often, things do not go your way the very first time, and you must push through failure in order to get better and have that satisfaction of knowing that you overcame your fears.
"But I want my life to be easy. Easy EASY. Easy peasy lemon squeezy!"
I reminded Raphaela that for example, when she was a baby, she didn't know how to walk. And that when she decided to start walking, there was lots of falling and mis-steps. And that if she had given up on walking, she would not be a big girl today, a girl in Kindergarten who can walk and run and jump and skip and hop and climb ladders and dance.
Then I asked Raphaela if she had any ideas about what she wanted to be when grew up. She immediately answered, "A soldier and a doctor, and a doctor for soldiers and animals."
Mommy: Those are wonderful goals. Do you think it is hard or easy to learn to be a doctor?
Raphaela: Easy.
Mommy: Nope! Mommy had to work very hard and learn a lot of things and take a lot of tests to become a doctor. I work hard every day too. If you want to be a doctor some day, and I am sure you will make an excellent grown-up, you will have to work hard.
Raphaela: Why?
Mommy: Because if you give up and don't try, you will never know what you are truly capable of.
Raphaela was quiet on the way home, and when I tucked her in tonight, I looked her straight in the eyes and told her this story: "Mommy really wanted to be your Mommy, and I went to the hospital and ate healthy and exercised and prayed to G-d, asking for the most special and wonderful baby Raphaela. It didn't work right away, it certainly wasn't easy, and I kept asking G-d to help me and I cried a lot, but I kept trying, I never gave up. Because if I had said, 'This hurts too much, this is too hard,' if I had stopped trying, I wouldn't be the luckiest Mommy in the world right now. And I am so glad that I kept trying and finally got my dream."
Post-script: Tomorrow afternoon we are scheduled to scope out a pre-ballet class. Oy.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
A Day in the Life
Day three of the completely superfluous five-day Shavuot vacation from school.
3:30 am, Harry decides that we need to talk. I remind him that I do not have to take Raphaela to Gan today, and that I am planning on sleeping in.
5:30 am, Raphaela decides that we need to wake up. I remind her (and Harry, again) that I do not have to get out of the house on a regular schedule, and would really LOVE to sleep in.
6 am, I understand that I am not going to be sleeping in.
6-8:30 am, Feed Harry breakfast, feed the fish, take Harry outside and feed his friends. Play with Raphaela, eat breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, help Raphaela get dressed. Start one load of laundry, darks.
8:30-11 am, Hadassah Hospital (Ein Kerem) at the Mother and Baby wing, where Raphaela's eyes are examined by an expert pediatric ophthalmologist, who reports that Raphaela should start wearing glasses now, today, in order to get a decent resolution before she starts First Grade, almost two years from now. The Polish heritage in me starts to feel guilty for having passed on lousy genes.
11:15 am, Arrive home, start Raphaela's lunch, put washer into dryer, attempt to set up Raphaela's follow up appointment through the hospital, only to be told that their first available spot seems to be eight months from now. At least I have a half hour before my baby sitter arrives, and 45 minutes before my first patient arrives.
11:20 am, My first patient arrives super duper [G-d damnit!] early, along with her daughter-in-law and three children. I want to scream but I hold myself back; all children do not have school today, not just my daughter.
11:45 am, The baby sitter arrives, exactly on time. She asks me if she is expected to take care of the four children seated in the living room and playing together, in which case she is charging me extra.
12-3:30 pm, In which I work as a Chiropractor, fold laundry as a Mom, make phone calls and snarf in lunch in my five free minutes.
3:30-5 pm, Raphaela and I take the bus into the center of town, to order her eye glasses. She tries on about thirty pairs, looks fabulously chic in all of them, and we settle on the reddish frames that do not seem to fall off her "small nose." (According to the optometrist.) I then explain that genetically speaking, while Raphaela received my ears and my lips and my eyes, the shape of her face and her cute little button nose come from her father.
5-5:30 pm, We take our weekly pre-weekend trip to the library, to refresh the reading material in the house for Shabbat.
6 pm, Raphaela takes a bath and I practically fall asleep watching her.
7:30 pm, Raphaela falls asleep in the first line of [the bed time prayer] Shema Yisrael. Actively snoring...
Good thing we have another day of vacation tomorrow.
3:30 am, Harry decides that we need to talk. I remind him that I do not have to take Raphaela to Gan today, and that I am planning on sleeping in.
5:30 am, Raphaela decides that we need to wake up. I remind her (and Harry, again) that I do not have to get out of the house on a regular schedule, and would really LOVE to sleep in.
6 am, I understand that I am not going to be sleeping in.
6-8:30 am, Feed Harry breakfast, feed the fish, take Harry outside and feed his friends. Play with Raphaela, eat breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, help Raphaela get dressed. Start one load of laundry, darks.
8:30-11 am, Hadassah Hospital (Ein Kerem) at the Mother and Baby wing, where Raphaela's eyes are examined by an expert pediatric ophthalmologist, who reports that Raphaela should start wearing glasses now, today, in order to get a decent resolution before she starts First Grade, almost two years from now. The Polish heritage in me starts to feel guilty for having passed on lousy genes.
11:15 am, Arrive home, start Raphaela's lunch, put washer into dryer, attempt to set up Raphaela's follow up appointment through the hospital, only to be told that their first available spot seems to be eight months from now. At least I have a half hour before my baby sitter arrives, and 45 minutes before my first patient arrives.
11:20 am, My first patient arrives super duper [G-d damnit!] early, along with her daughter-in-law and three children. I want to scream but I hold myself back; all children do not have school today, not just my daughter.
11:45 am, The baby sitter arrives, exactly on time. She asks me if she is expected to take care of the four children seated in the living room and playing together, in which case she is charging me extra.
12-3:30 pm, In which I work as a Chiropractor, fold laundry as a Mom, make phone calls and snarf in lunch in my five free minutes.
3:30-5 pm, Raphaela and I take the bus into the center of town, to order her eye glasses. She tries on about thirty pairs, looks fabulously chic in all of them, and we settle on the reddish frames that do not seem to fall off her "small nose." (According to the optometrist.) I then explain that genetically speaking, while Raphaela received my ears and my lips and my eyes, the shape of her face and her cute little button nose come from her father.
5-5:30 pm, We take our weekly pre-weekend trip to the library, to refresh the reading material in the house for Shabbat.
6 pm, Raphaela takes a bath and I practically fall asleep watching her.
7:30 pm, Raphaela falls asleep in the first line of [the bed time prayer] Shema Yisrael. Actively snoring...
Good thing we have another day of vacation tomorrow.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Baby Boom
The Israeli television Channel 10 premiered a new reality show last night called "Baby Boom." The premise is simple actually, it follows a woman from the time they enter the hospital until they give birth and hold their son or daughter in their arms for the first time. There are minimal reality type show shots of the people talking directly into the camera, which makes it easier to watch.
I cried last night along with the mothers and the fathers and the mothers-in-law and the midwives and the official birth videographers, and I am fairly sure that most of the viewers did the same. One of my close friends who also watched the program texted me, saying, "I am predicting lots of births nine months from tonight."
It got me thinking: when I was pregnant, I did not get all hormonal or obnoxious and demanding, but I do remember crying every time I saw a commercial on television of some version of a happy family. Father playing with son, mother holding baby, family on vacation etc., they all made me bawl.
But when it came to Raphaela's birth, I don't remember crying at all. Not during labor - although there was lots of "Get me an epidural, for the love of G-d!" - not after I held her for the first time and not for two days afterward. I had had in the end a totally natural birth, and was high from the adrenaline of the event, not to mention flooded with the joy of this beautiful new life.
Three days after the birth I cried for the first time, when I said her name aloud. Hearing "Raphaela" come out of my mouth, the name I had chosen when I was five months pregnant, it made it all real.
I am looking forward to the next installment of Baby Boom, and will have my box of tissues at the ready.
I cried last night along with the mothers and the fathers and the mothers-in-law and the midwives and the official birth videographers, and I am fairly sure that most of the viewers did the same. One of my close friends who also watched the program texted me, saying, "I am predicting lots of births nine months from tonight."
It got me thinking: when I was pregnant, I did not get all hormonal or obnoxious and demanding, but I do remember crying every time I saw a commercial on television of some version of a happy family. Father playing with son, mother holding baby, family on vacation etc., they all made me bawl.
But when it came to Raphaela's birth, I don't remember crying at all. Not during labor - although there was lots of "Get me an epidural, for the love of G-d!" - not after I held her for the first time and not for two days afterward. I had had in the end a totally natural birth, and was high from the adrenaline of the event, not to mention flooded with the joy of this beautiful new life.
Three days after the birth I cried for the first time, when I said her name aloud. Hearing "Raphaela" come out of my mouth, the name I had chosen when I was five months pregnant, it made it all real.
I am looking forward to the next installment of Baby Boom, and will have my box of tissues at the ready.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Evolving Friendships
From the age of one to thirteen, I had a BFF named Beth. We did everything together, and confided everything in each other. When my parents were going through a divorce I practically lived in her house, and when her parents were having issues with Beth's older brother, issues that completely disrupted their family life, she practically lived in mine.
We swore that we would never lose touch and that we would be, literally, best friends FOREVER.
Then we moved from New York to Boston, and Beth became Ultra-Orthodox. Our lives and our belief systems diverged, and after attempts to stay in contact via snail mail - remember that this was the pre-internet and social media generation - we drifted and she became a pleasant memory for me.
It took me until post college to understand that if a friendship changes or fades, it does not reflect badly on me as a person. We as human beings evolve individually and as a peer group over time, and some connections that once made sense lose their focus and their purpose. And that's OK, perfectly normal for most of the population of Gaea.
It's the reason couples get divorced, they become different people and if they don't work at it, they fall out of love.
I met one of my current closest friends at the pregnancy and birth preparation class at Hadassah Hospital. Our daughters were conceived on the same day through fertility treatments, and they were born a week apart. For the first several years of their lives, we four girls hung out together, and I imagined that these friendships would last FOREVER.
In the last year or so, because the girls attend different school program and because we see each other less, that aspect of our connection has fallen apart, and for a while it made me sad. I resolved however that it should not affect my adult friendship, and last night the two Mommies got sitters and met for dinner; the first time in a long time.
The food was yummy, the restaurant warm and cozy, and the conversations wonderful. It is the kind of relationship that is quite simply familiar and comfortable, where you immediately slip into patterns of trust; my own little Field of Dreams.
We even joked at one point that we will still be friends at the age of 90...
We swore that we would never lose touch and that we would be, literally, best friends FOREVER.
Then we moved from New York to Boston, and Beth became Ultra-Orthodox. Our lives and our belief systems diverged, and after attempts to stay in contact via snail mail - remember that this was the pre-internet and social media generation - we drifted and she became a pleasant memory for me.
It took me until post college to understand that if a friendship changes or fades, it does not reflect badly on me as a person. We as human beings evolve individually and as a peer group over time, and some connections that once made sense lose their focus and their purpose. And that's OK, perfectly normal for most of the population of Gaea.
It's the reason couples get divorced, they become different people and if they don't work at it, they fall out of love.
I met one of my current closest friends at the pregnancy and birth preparation class at Hadassah Hospital. Our daughters were conceived on the same day through fertility treatments, and they were born a week apart. For the first several years of their lives, we four girls hung out together, and I imagined that these friendships would last FOREVER.
In the last year or so, because the girls attend different school program and because we see each other less, that aspect of our connection has fallen apart, and for a while it made me sad. I resolved however that it should not affect my adult friendship, and last night the two Mommies got sitters and met for dinner; the first time in a long time.
The food was yummy, the restaurant warm and cozy, and the conversations wonderful. It is the kind of relationship that is quite simply familiar and comfortable, where you immediately slip into patterns of trust; my own little Field of Dreams.
We even joked at one point that we will still be friends at the age of 90...
Sunday, June 23, 2013
One Month Before My Birthday...
Last night I dreamt that I had gone to the hospital to visit a friend who was in labor and about to give birth. While I was standing there, I went into labor myself, and gave birth to a happy red-headed infant, whom I named Jenny. [Possibly a reference to a Doctor Who episode]
This child was clearly conceived through immaculate conception, because I remember feeling quite surprised that I had apparently been pregnant and didn't realize it. Both my mother and my grandmother (Rest in Peace) came to see me, and my grandmother was informing all those who would listen that this birth represented very bad timing, because I have donated all of Raphaela's smaller clothing, including the new-baby stuff, and because I have also donated or sold all of her baby accouterments, like her crib and stroller and standing bath and infant car seat.
[In fact, as I get closer to my birthday in real life, the donation of these items will take place some time this week, once I have found a worthy and legitimate charitable organization in Jerusalem.]
As it was a Friday morning, [Raphaela was born on a Friday morning in real life] I nursed Baby Jenny and tucked her into a cradle that looked more like a cardboard box, and lit Shabbat candles; once she fell asleep, I resumed the previous dream, in which I was traveling for the summer with a group and we were trying to decide upon an amusement park. I wanted to ride on the largest and most scary roller coaster.
As this group of my peers were arguing over the itinerary, I realized that I could not abandon Jenny even if she was unplanned and most inconvenient. I smiled when I thought about Raphaela as an older sister, and laughed at the idea of raising not one but two girls. I told my friends, "I have to go back for Jenny!"
And I woke up.
This child was clearly conceived through immaculate conception, because I remember feeling quite surprised that I had apparently been pregnant and didn't realize it. Both my mother and my grandmother (Rest in Peace) came to see me, and my grandmother was informing all those who would listen that this birth represented very bad timing, because I have donated all of Raphaela's smaller clothing, including the new-baby stuff, and because I have also donated or sold all of her baby accouterments, like her crib and stroller and standing bath and infant car seat.
[In fact, as I get closer to my birthday in real life, the donation of these items will take place some time this week, once I have found a worthy and legitimate charitable organization in Jerusalem.]
As it was a Friday morning, [Raphaela was born on a Friday morning in real life] I nursed Baby Jenny and tucked her into a cradle that looked more like a cardboard box, and lit Shabbat candles; once she fell asleep, I resumed the previous dream, in which I was traveling for the summer with a group and we were trying to decide upon an amusement park. I wanted to ride on the largest and most scary roller coaster.
As this group of my peers were arguing over the itinerary, I realized that I could not abandon Jenny even if she was unplanned and most inconvenient. I smiled when I thought about Raphaela as an older sister, and laughed at the idea of raising not one but two girls. I told my friends, "I have to go back for Jenny!"
And I woke up.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Hadassah Eye Exam
A year after Raphaela's eye exam, as part of the larger investigation of her late walking, we returned to Hadassah Hospital this afternoon for her follow-up exam. The doctor was running 45 minutes late, and I found that disturbing for a Pediatric Opthamologist with a waiting room full of active and over-tired children. (As a Chiropractor, I hate making my patients wait even five minutes past the scheduled time, especially those who arrive with younger ones.)
Ultimately, Raphaela was examined and re-examined by both Dr. Veronica and Dr. Hadass, and they both came to the same conclusion: Raphaela has 20/30 vision with astigmatism. Practically it means that before she reaches the First Grade she will most surely need eye glasses, since the astigmatism is atypical for a child her age.
The good news? The astigmatism is the same measurement in both eyes and is still small enough so as not to be considered clinically significant, an emergency. Dr. Hadass felt comfortable enough with the situation to recommend that we wait one year to start the process of correction with glasses.
AND Raphaela got a Barbie sticker from the doctor, possibly the best part of the visit. We are very into Barbie lately, and when Raphaela enters her teens and starts going to the mall with her friends, my credit card will be crying fashionista tears.
I love my daughter, and will love her no less if we must find her lovely fashionable eye wear. Some small part of me feels disappointed that now she cannot become a fighter pilot in the Israeli army.
Her clear vision represents the key to her growth and confidence, and most certainly her ability to excel in school. I suppose on some level I blame myself for having given her that genetic inheritance; I needed glasses and then contact lenses from age 12, though my astigmatism only appeared as an adult, after I gave birth to Raphaela.
After our hospital adventure, we took a bus back towards the center of town (the bus, another adventure!), where we had a light dinner (dinner downtown for the first time ever, another adventure!). Because of the traffic hassles due to the secret meetings of the new Secretary of State John Kerry, Raphaela and I started walking. For a kid who started only at 20 months, she did a phenomenal job, walking skipping and jumping from the center of town of Jerusalem, down Aza Road and all the way the home; that route can take up to 45 minutes at a decent pace, and Raphaela accomplished it like a pro.
We will be walking more than usual for the next three days, when President Obama arrives and shuts down most of the streets of Jerusalem, five days before Pessach...
Ultimately, Raphaela was examined and re-examined by both Dr. Veronica and Dr. Hadass, and they both came to the same conclusion: Raphaela has 20/30 vision with astigmatism. Practically it means that before she reaches the First Grade she will most surely need eye glasses, since the astigmatism is atypical for a child her age.
The good news? The astigmatism is the same measurement in both eyes and is still small enough so as not to be considered clinically significant, an emergency. Dr. Hadass felt comfortable enough with the situation to recommend that we wait one year to start the process of correction with glasses.
AND Raphaela got a Barbie sticker from the doctor, possibly the best part of the visit. We are very into Barbie lately, and when Raphaela enters her teens and starts going to the mall with her friends, my credit card will be crying fashionista tears.
I love my daughter, and will love her no less if we must find her lovely fashionable eye wear. Some small part of me feels disappointed that now she cannot become a fighter pilot in the Israeli army.
Her clear vision represents the key to her growth and confidence, and most certainly her ability to excel in school. I suppose on some level I blame myself for having given her that genetic inheritance; I needed glasses and then contact lenses from age 12, though my astigmatism only appeared as an adult, after I gave birth to Raphaela.
After our hospital adventure, we took a bus back towards the center of town (the bus, another adventure!), where we had a light dinner (dinner downtown for the first time ever, another adventure!). Because of the traffic hassles due to the secret meetings of the new Secretary of State John Kerry, Raphaela and I started walking. For a kid who started only at 20 months, she did a phenomenal job, walking skipping and jumping from the center of town of Jerusalem, down Aza Road and all the way the home; that route can take up to 45 minutes at a decent pace, and Raphaela accomplished it like a pro.
We will be walking more than usual for the next three days, when President Obama arrives and shuts down most of the streets of Jerusalem, five days before Pessach...
Friday, February 1, 2013
Fertility in the News
Israel has long been hailed as a country on the cutting edge of fertility technology, and two recent articles throw some of that reputation into question.
The first piece that appeared this week stated that Israeli hospital institutions were in fact going beyond the fertility protocol in terms of frequency of treatment, as a result there has been a recent drop in the success rate.
The second article (in today's Haartez) reported that professional committees will be set up in all hospitals to asses the fitness of a potential parent, and states that doctors will now have the right to refuse the procedure, "only if it is clear that the child's quality of life will be so poor that it's possible to say it would be better had never been born." Of course this new ethical inquiry would affect only those women who are attempting a so-called unnatural birth, a standard couple having sex will not be scrutinized even if they would make lousy parents.
The criteria include physically disabled applicants, those with a clear history of psychological disorders, and patients with a background of drug or alcohol abuse, sex offenses or child abuse.
The fertility panel estimates that out of the 20-30,000 women who receive fertility treatments, only 50 to 100 will be referred onward to the committee.
I certainly don't see myself as a risk to my child or society, though I wonder if I would have passed their standards as a single mother by choice. That's a lot of power to give to one group of people, literally the power of life.
The first piece that appeared this week stated that Israeli hospital institutions were in fact going beyond the fertility protocol in terms of frequency of treatment, as a result there has been a recent drop in the success rate.
The second article (in today's Haartez) reported that professional committees will be set up in all hospitals to asses the fitness of a potential parent, and states that doctors will now have the right to refuse the procedure, "only if it is clear that the child's quality of life will be so poor that it's possible to say it would be better had never been born." Of course this new ethical inquiry would affect only those women who are attempting a so-called unnatural birth, a standard couple having sex will not be scrutinized even if they would make lousy parents.
The criteria include physically disabled applicants, those with a clear history of psychological disorders, and patients with a background of drug or alcohol abuse, sex offenses or child abuse.
The fertility panel estimates that out of the 20-30,000 women who receive fertility treatments, only 50 to 100 will be referred onward to the committee.
I certainly don't see myself as a risk to my child or society, though I wonder if I would have passed their standards as a single mother by choice. That's a lot of power to give to one group of people, literally the power of life.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Testing, testing...123!
When Raphaela was all of two days old, she showed a remarkable intelligence and awareness of how to manipulate the system. I had just fed her and had dropped her off at the nursery in Hadassah Hospital, where she and the other 30 babies were meant to sleep for the night.
Fifteen minutes later, a frenzied call came over the loudspeaker: "Ms. Leeder, Ms. Leeder, come to the nursery immediately, your child is crying very loudly!" When I arrived, the nurse scolded me, saying, "The child is obviously hungry."
I assured the nurse that I had just fed her, and that besides, two day old babies live off their post-birth fat so she couldn't be all that hungry. In order to not wake up the other sleeping infants, they asked me to try to nurse. I sat down in one of the comfy chairs, didn't even have the chance to pull up my shirt, and Raphaela fell asleep on my chest.
Lesson learned, crying gets Mommy, especially when the nurses want the rest of the children to sleep, and when Mommy is so new at the job.
Fast forward to last week, we scheduled a play date with one of Raphaela's friends from her previous Gan. All was going well, when the other girl's behaviour deteriorated rapidly, she started to cry and complain of the cold, she became clingy and demanded that her mother take her home.
At the time, I thought this event could be filed under Anomaly.
Yesterday, Raphaela and I had plans for lunch with one of our closest friends. The girls have grown up together literally since birth. On the walk, Raphaela chatted happily about all the thing they would do, all the games they would play and how excited she was to see them. As soon as we walked in the door, Raphaela started crying, "I want to go home Mommy! Mika is not my friend! My leg hurts and I want to go home."
At first I thought that she had been hurt somewhere in our seemingly innocuous walk through the sunny streets of Jerusalem. I asked her, "Raphaela, are you sad? Are you angry? Show me where it hurts. Tell me why you want to go home."
She puckered up her lips, much like she looked when she was first born and resting on my stomach after the first major event in her life, and cried out, "I want to go home because I want to go home!"
Could be that I misinterpreted this almost obvious manipulation and power play, but I decided that Raphaela cannot learn that our plans go to Hell in a hand basket whenever she feels like it. I told her that she was perfectly free to sit in the corner and cry all she wanted, and that I was going to attempt to enjoy the time with our friends.
And cry she did. And kick and sob, for close to an hour. My friends whose daughter is the same age understood, though it certainly dampened the atmosphere. We left after an hour and a half, and I wondered if Raphaela needs counselling for...Fear of Play Dates.
I must admit that I felt some resentment as well, I rarely enjoy grown-up time with friends, and rather than play with her mate, she chose to ruin it for all of us. At the time that she was throwing the mother of all temper tantrums, I wished someone would just step in and tell me why.
(Post script: About one minute after we left our friends' house, Raphaela said to me, "Mommy, I don't want to be cry, I want to be happy." About one and half minutes after we left our friends' house Raphaela announced that she was happy once again. When we got home, she was singing and playing as if nothing at all had happened.)
Fifteen minutes later, a frenzied call came over the loudspeaker: "Ms. Leeder, Ms. Leeder, come to the nursery immediately, your child is crying very loudly!" When I arrived, the nurse scolded me, saying, "The child is obviously hungry."
I assured the nurse that I had just fed her, and that besides, two day old babies live off their post-birth fat so she couldn't be all that hungry. In order to not wake up the other sleeping infants, they asked me to try to nurse. I sat down in one of the comfy chairs, didn't even have the chance to pull up my shirt, and Raphaela fell asleep on my chest.
Lesson learned, crying gets Mommy, especially when the nurses want the rest of the children to sleep, and when Mommy is so new at the job.
Fast forward to last week, we scheduled a play date with one of Raphaela's friends from her previous Gan. All was going well, when the other girl's behaviour deteriorated rapidly, she started to cry and complain of the cold, she became clingy and demanded that her mother take her home.
At the time, I thought this event could be filed under Anomaly.
Yesterday, Raphaela and I had plans for lunch with one of our closest friends. The girls have grown up together literally since birth. On the walk, Raphaela chatted happily about all the thing they would do, all the games they would play and how excited she was to see them. As soon as we walked in the door, Raphaela started crying, "I want to go home Mommy! Mika is not my friend! My leg hurts and I want to go home."
At first I thought that she had been hurt somewhere in our seemingly innocuous walk through the sunny streets of Jerusalem. I asked her, "Raphaela, are you sad? Are you angry? Show me where it hurts. Tell me why you want to go home."
She puckered up her lips, much like she looked when she was first born and resting on my stomach after the first major event in her life, and cried out, "I want to go home because I want to go home!"
Could be that I misinterpreted this almost obvious manipulation and power play, but I decided that Raphaela cannot learn that our plans go to Hell in a hand basket whenever she feels like it. I told her that she was perfectly free to sit in the corner and cry all she wanted, and that I was going to attempt to enjoy the time with our friends.
And cry she did. And kick and sob, for close to an hour. My friends whose daughter is the same age understood, though it certainly dampened the atmosphere. We left after an hour and a half, and I wondered if Raphaela needs counselling for...Fear of Play Dates.
I must admit that I felt some resentment as well, I rarely enjoy grown-up time with friends, and rather than play with her mate, she chose to ruin it for all of us. At the time that she was throwing the mother of all temper tantrums, I wished someone would just step in and tell me why.
(Post script: About one minute after we left our friends' house, Raphaela said to me, "Mommy, I don't want to be cry, I want to be happy." About one and half minutes after we left our friends' house Raphaela announced that she was happy once again. When we got home, she was singing and playing as if nothing at all had happened.)
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Happy Lunar Birthday
Three years ago this night, starting at 7:15 pm, I went into labour; after an unintended completely natural birth, Raphaela emerged approximately 12 hours later at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem, the morning of Erev Succot.
Happy birthday my darling girl!
Today I read a quote from the artist, Pablo Picasso: "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up." May G-d grant me the ability to always act in my daughter's best interests, and allow her to fulfill all that she is meant to be.
We went outside tonight, to inspect the full moon and officially inaugurate her birthday, and its light was blocked by rain clouds. Along with Raphaela's birthday, Israel is apparently poised to receive the blessing of rain, just in time for the holiday.
Happy birthday my darling girl!
Today I read a quote from the artist, Pablo Picasso: "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up." May G-d grant me the ability to always act in my daughter's best interests, and allow her to fulfill all that she is meant to be.
We went outside tonight, to inspect the full moon and officially inaugurate her birthday, and its light was blocked by rain clouds. Along with Raphaela's birthday, Israel is apparently poised to receive the blessing of rain, just in time for the holiday.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Clean Slate
Since we have moved into this new apartment, a pigeon couple has chosen the safety and refuge of a small window sill in the bathroom, where they have raised many pigeon babies, from egg to full-sized flying birds. Their last two eggs were less successful, one of the hatchlings died at birth and one of them died after two days.
The mother pigeon simply abandoned the nest, leaving a small rotting corpse behind.
Today I vacated the nest and scrubbed down the window sill. For whatever reason, this place became toxic to the young birds, and this gives them the opportunity to try again with a clean slate, literally and figuratively.
Last night my best friend told me that her almost 12 week old fetus was not going to survive the pregnancy, and that her doctors had already initiated the procedure for a "natural miscarriage." Her first child, a daughter the same age as Raphaela and one of Raphaela's closest friends, was conceived via IVF, as was this second baby. My friend had been told by many doctors that as unlikely as it was for a first successful pregnancy, a second was even less likely.
I understand their sadness and their anger and their frustration, and I admire their commitment to trying again, once her body has recovered. I can remember my own feelings when I had a particularly nasty natural miscarriage right before Yom Kippur, during my year of fertility treatments; something I would not wish upon any woman.
Here's the scariest part: apparently 17 other woman who all received IVF treatments around the same time, they all experienced a sudden and unexplained end to their pregnancy.
My friend and her family will be moving down the street into our neighborhood next week, into a new clean apartment and with a clean slate, ready to try again.
The mother pigeon simply abandoned the nest, leaving a small rotting corpse behind.
Today I vacated the nest and scrubbed down the window sill. For whatever reason, this place became toxic to the young birds, and this gives them the opportunity to try again with a clean slate, literally and figuratively.
Last night my best friend told me that her almost 12 week old fetus was not going to survive the pregnancy, and that her doctors had already initiated the procedure for a "natural miscarriage." Her first child, a daughter the same age as Raphaela and one of Raphaela's closest friends, was conceived via IVF, as was this second baby. My friend had been told by many doctors that as unlikely as it was for a first successful pregnancy, a second was even less likely.
I understand their sadness and their anger and their frustration, and I admire their commitment to trying again, once her body has recovered. I can remember my own feelings when I had a particularly nasty natural miscarriage right before Yom Kippur, during my year of fertility treatments; something I would not wish upon any woman.
Here's the scariest part: apparently 17 other woman who all received IVF treatments around the same time, they all experienced a sudden and unexplained end to their pregnancy.
My friend and her family will be moving down the street into our neighborhood next week, into a new clean apartment and with a clean slate, ready to try again.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Birthdays Past and Present
This morning on the way to Gan, Raphaela picked a few berries off the bushes near our house and asked me, "Do you think the Angry Birds would like to eat these?" Her compassion, even for imaginary birds flinging themselves at random edifices, continues to inspire me. Raphaela also apologizes to the pigs when we destroy their houses, and insists that I press "reset" so they won't be homeless.
An Israeli friend of mine suggested that I am doing Raphaela no favors by allowing her to sympathize with the "enemy pigs," that I need to teach Raphaela that the birds are in a fight for their very survival. All of the obvious political implications aside, I think my daughter deserves a few more years to enjoy humanity as a whole, and to take joy in the experience of meeting new people without bias.
Imagine that last year at this time, I was sitting with Raphaela in Hadassah Hospital, preparing her for her surgery. Now I have a vocal, independent, and thank G-d healthy toddler, best birthday present ever.
An Israeli friend of mine suggested that I am doing Raphaela no favors by allowing her to sympathize with the "enemy pigs," that I need to teach Raphaela that the birds are in a fight for their very survival. All of the obvious political implications aside, I think my daughter deserves a few more years to enjoy humanity as a whole, and to take joy in the experience of meeting new people without bias.
Imagine that last year at this time, I was sitting with Raphaela in Hadassah Hospital, preparing her for her surgery. Now I have a vocal, independent, and thank G-d healthy toddler, best birthday present ever.
Friday, July 13, 2012
The Rights of the Non Father
Very often, people will ask me questions about the process at Hadassah Hospital and their affiliation with the sperm bank, run by the very capable and discrete Ruth. Inevitably, the follow up question is some version of, "Do you want another child, and can you use the same donor, so that Raphaela and her sibling will be related?'
The Israeli High Court of Justice may soon make a ruling that will define that critical issue in fertility treatments; since Israel is on the cutting of fertility technology, they also tend to deal with cases that will set precedent for all the globe.
An Israeli woman currently living in the States bought all the 'product' of a particular donor, so that her daughter may have a sibling who is biologically related. The donor, having become more religious since making the deposit, has decided that he does not want to father any other children anonymously, and has demanded that the sperm bank destroy whatever is left, despite the fact that the woman paid for it and technically owns it.
The reasoning behind the donor, and the State of Israel's legal position, is that the donor's right not to be a father against his will is stronger than the recipient's wish to have children who are biological siblings. The donor has the right to change his mind.
The woman challenged the initial ruling, stating that the decision was unreasonable and "damaged her rights 'as a woman, an individual, a mother and a signatory of an agreement.' " (Haaretz, Ronny Linder-Ganz, "Court to rule if sperm donor can renege" July 13, 2012) She argues further that her case has repercussions for both married and single women who are considering using fertility treatments, and may feel the pressure to act sooner, before the donor flips his decision.
To quote Stan Lee, with great power comes great responsibility, and the medical world will surely be looking at this Israeli case for guidance.
The Israeli High Court of Justice may soon make a ruling that will define that critical issue in fertility treatments; since Israel is on the cutting of fertility technology, they also tend to deal with cases that will set precedent for all the globe.
An Israeli woman currently living in the States bought all the 'product' of a particular donor, so that her daughter may have a sibling who is biologically related. The donor, having become more religious since making the deposit, has decided that he does not want to father any other children anonymously, and has demanded that the sperm bank destroy whatever is left, despite the fact that the woman paid for it and technically owns it.
The reasoning behind the donor, and the State of Israel's legal position, is that the donor's right not to be a father against his will is stronger than the recipient's wish to have children who are biological siblings. The donor has the right to change his mind.
The woman challenged the initial ruling, stating that the decision was unreasonable and "damaged her rights 'as a woman, an individual, a mother and a signatory of an agreement.' " (Haaretz, Ronny Linder-Ganz, "Court to rule if sperm donor can renege" July 13, 2012) She argues further that her case has repercussions for both married and single women who are considering using fertility treatments, and may feel the pressure to act sooner, before the donor flips his decision.
To quote Stan Lee, with great power comes great responsibility, and the medical world will surely be looking at this Israeli case for guidance.
Monday, July 9, 2012
My Scarlet Letter
Here are the facts of the case:
Since September, two children ("Y" and "E") have consistently bullied, hit, stolen toys and destroyed belongings of their classmates, including Raphaela. The Montessori approach to bullies claims that these children lash out because they don't receive enough love and affection, and so the Head Nursery Teacher ("S") rewards the bully with hugs and kind words, and gives the victims of these two boys lessons in assertive behaviour. In fact, bullying is a serious problem in the Israeli educational system, starting from this tender age and it gets worse and more scary as Israeli children get older.
Since September, other than the stories from Raphaela and several of the parents of her close friends, I personally have witnessed E come over to my daughter as I am standing there with her, hit her or try to take away something of hers by force. I have held my tongue and swallowed my need to "do something about it." All the parents have done so, because we know from experience that no matter how many times we complain to the Head Nursery Teacher and ask her to take definitive action, she will not.
This afternoon, with Raphaela standing next to me at the end of the Gan day, E rammed into Raphaela's leg with a riding toy. Raphaela fell to the floor and started crying, and so I picked her up and comforted her. I then bent down and was eye level to him, and firmly told him that he needed to apologize to Raphaela for having hurt her. He stared me down for five minutes and refused. I then told Raphaela to tell E that he hurt her and that she finds it uncomfortable when he hurts her. Raphaela did so and E did not budge in his stubbornness. So I said that since he hurt Raphaela with the riding toy, he should not be allowed to continue to play with it, and removed him non-violently.
NB This entire time, the nursery teachers stood by and watched the proceedings, and the Head Nursery Teacher was not even on the premises.
E started to cry, and at that moment his mother arrived. She immediately started shouting, "What happened E, who hurt you?" I calmly explained, without mentioning at all that this was a repeat and recurrent occurrence, that her son hurt my daughter, and that I asked him nicely to apologize and he refused. She gave me a look that would kill, and stomped away, sheltering her angel son from me.
I felt little remorse, though I did think afterwards that my taking away the riding toy was beyond my jurisdiction in this case; to me, I am the first parent this whole year to actually react to the problem and issue that we parents all obsess about in private to each other.
(Continued...)
Since September, two children ("Y" and "E") have consistently bullied, hit, stolen toys and destroyed belongings of their classmates, including Raphaela. The Montessori approach to bullies claims that these children lash out because they don't receive enough love and affection, and so the Head Nursery Teacher ("S") rewards the bully with hugs and kind words, and gives the victims of these two boys lessons in assertive behaviour. In fact, bullying is a serious problem in the Israeli educational system, starting from this tender age and it gets worse and more scary as Israeli children get older.
Since September, other than the stories from Raphaela and several of the parents of her close friends, I personally have witnessed E come over to my daughter as I am standing there with her, hit her or try to take away something of hers by force. I have held my tongue and swallowed my need to "do something about it." All the parents have done so, because we know from experience that no matter how many times we complain to the Head Nursery Teacher and ask her to take definitive action, she will not.
This afternoon, with Raphaela standing next to me at the end of the Gan day, E rammed into Raphaela's leg with a riding toy. Raphaela fell to the floor and started crying, and so I picked her up and comforted her. I then bent down and was eye level to him, and firmly told him that he needed to apologize to Raphaela for having hurt her. He stared me down for five minutes and refused. I then told Raphaela to tell E that he hurt her and that she finds it uncomfortable when he hurts her. Raphaela did so and E did not budge in his stubbornness. So I said that since he hurt Raphaela with the riding toy, he should not be allowed to continue to play with it, and removed him non-violently.
NB This entire time, the nursery teachers stood by and watched the proceedings, and the Head Nursery Teacher was not even on the premises.
E started to cry, and at that moment his mother arrived. She immediately started shouting, "What happened E, who hurt you?" I calmly explained, without mentioning at all that this was a repeat and recurrent occurrence, that her son hurt my daughter, and that I asked him nicely to apologize and he refused. She gave me a look that would kill, and stomped away, sheltering her angel son from me.
I felt little remorse, though I did think afterwards that my taking away the riding toy was beyond my jurisdiction in this case; to me, I am the first parent this whole year to actually react to the problem and issue that we parents all obsess about in private to each other.
(Continued...)
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Medical Update II
Six doctor visits later, including the ENT who originally diagnosed the need for Raphaela's surgery at Hadassah Hospital last year; and the general consensus regarding her cough is...."I have a theory...." Meanwhile, time marches on and I see small improvements every day for the last three weeks.
IE They don't know what exactly is causing it or how to get rid of it, and have thus far suggested medicine that has made it worse, or folk remedies which keep the situation at status quo. I will therefore continue to adjust her Chiropractically, make sure she has plenty to drink to dilute the mucous, elevate her head at night when she sleeps, and keep on the humidifier. My crazy neighbor lady said that Green Tea cures everything, and another person recommended a Chinese herbal remedy.
Not that it would resolve the health issues, but it might be nice if at some point, someone said in the most honest way possible, "I don't know. Conventional medicine does not have all the answers."
IE They don't know what exactly is causing it or how to get rid of it, and have thus far suggested medicine that has made it worse, or folk remedies which keep the situation at status quo. I will therefore continue to adjust her Chiropractically, make sure she has plenty to drink to dilute the mucous, elevate her head at night when she sleeps, and keep on the humidifier. My crazy neighbor lady said that Green Tea cures everything, and another person recommended a Chinese herbal remedy.
Not that it would resolve the health issues, but it might be nice if at some point, someone said in the most honest way possible, "I don't know. Conventional medicine does not have all the answers."
Saturday, February 4, 2012
IVF and the American Embassy
An article in this weekend's Haaretz reported that the "American embassy and consular officials in Israel are requiring applicants seeking US citizenship for their children to prove parentage in cases where they received fertility treatments." This bureaucratic nightmare has afflicted both single mothers and married women, and the demands of proof of genetic parentage are almost impossible, as in many cases of sperm and egg donation, the donor remains anonymous.
Ellie Lavi, an American-born JSMBC who started the organization "&baby makes two," stated that when she went to acquire citizenship for her twins, experienced the following: "The interviewing officer asked me over a microphone, 'Are these your eggs?'...I was absolutely stunned, humiliated." The Embassy and US State Department claims that their policy and approach has not changed at all over the years, but rather, Israel as one of the leading countries on the planet in fertility technology, accentuates the issue.
Raphaela has American citizenship since the age of five months, and I remember that the experience was at the very least tiring and infuriating; at a certain point they sent me over to a psychologist, so the woman could asses my veracity and reactions, to make sure I was not a crazy women claiming to be a single mother, using someone else's baby. If I would have had to provide proof of my fertility treatments, her application would have been refused, as I signed a legal non-disclosure agreement with Hadassah Hospital and the sperm bank.
I find it disturbing that both secular international government offices and the Israeli Rabbinate are trying to link "true" identity, halachic or otherwise, to genetic material rather than to the woman who carried the child for nine months and will raise him/her for the rest of their lives. With all the cutting edge developments in fertility, the societal aspect of pregnancy and birth is taking several million steps backward.
Ellie Lavi, an American-born JSMBC who started the organization "&baby makes two," stated that when she went to acquire citizenship for her twins, experienced the following: "The interviewing officer asked me over a microphone, 'Are these your eggs?'...I was absolutely stunned, humiliated." The Embassy and US State Department claims that their policy and approach has not changed at all over the years, but rather, Israel as one of the leading countries on the planet in fertility technology, accentuates the issue.
Raphaela has American citizenship since the age of five months, and I remember that the experience was at the very least tiring and infuriating; at a certain point they sent me over to a psychologist, so the woman could asses my veracity and reactions, to make sure I was not a crazy women claiming to be a single mother, using someone else's baby. If I would have had to provide proof of my fertility treatments, her application would have been refused, as I signed a legal non-disclosure agreement with Hadassah Hospital and the sperm bank.
I find it disturbing that both secular international government offices and the Israeli Rabbinate are trying to link "true" identity, halachic or otherwise, to genetic material rather than to the woman who carried the child for nine months and will raise him/her for the rest of their lives. With all the cutting edge developments in fertility, the societal aspect of pregnancy and birth is taking several million steps backward.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Chanukah 2008/2011
As the holiday gets closer, Raphaela becomes more excited about all aspects of Chanukah, though I have not introduced her specifically to the Israeli jelly doughnut concept. She found a beautifully decorated dreidel that I had put on a high shelf, and immediately wanted to play, and I felt the completion of the circle that started with my fertility treatments.
On Chanukah in 2008, I attended the Bat Mitzvah of a freind's daughter, in the Old City of Jerusalem. I knew that in a few days I would have my final IUI treatment, before Hadassah Hospital would force me to switch me over into the IVF route. I wanted and needed this IUI procedure to work, after a year of hits and misses and several miscarriages. Taking the opportunity, I went to the Western Wall after the Bat Mitzvah, and had a serious conversation with G-d and the Universe. I informed all beings present -supernatural and otherwise -that this would be The One, this would be the IUI that not only got me pregnant, but stuck around for nine months and delivered a healthy baby.
On the way home, I bought the dreidel, in honor of the holiday and as the first present for my future daughter.
The IUI took place on January 1, 2009, and on October 2, 2009, Raphaela came into the world, bringing with her more joy and light and happiness than I ever could have imagined.
May we all be blessed with joy and light, friends and family, in this holiday season. Chag Sameach!
On Chanukah in 2008, I attended the Bat Mitzvah of a freind's daughter, in the Old City of Jerusalem. I knew that in a few days I would have my final IUI treatment, before Hadassah Hospital would force me to switch me over into the IVF route. I wanted and needed this IUI procedure to work, after a year of hits and misses and several miscarriages. Taking the opportunity, I went to the Western Wall after the Bat Mitzvah, and had a serious conversation with G-d and the Universe. I informed all beings present -supernatural and otherwise -that this would be The One, this would be the IUI that not only got me pregnant, but stuck around for nine months and delivered a healthy baby.
On the way home, I bought the dreidel, in honor of the holiday and as the first present for my future daughter.
The IUI took place on January 1, 2009, and on October 2, 2009, Raphaela came into the world, bringing with her more joy and light and happiness than I ever could have imagined.
May we all be blessed with joy and light, friends and family, in this holiday season. Chag Sameach!
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Shower Torture
CIA interrogators are rank amateurs compared to my daughter. Here is her devious plan, I think she took her cue from Harry, who finds a way to sit on my lap or on top of the newspaper or keyboard at the most inconvenient moments. I think the last time I took a relaxed shower was two days after I gave birth to Raphaela, while the nurse at the Hadassah Ein Kerem Baby Hotel watched her for ten minutes.
Phase I: After the water has been heated, distract Mommy with as many different request and tantrums as you can think of, including, "I want breakfast," "I need a diaper change," "Can you read me this book?" and the most creative, "I am going to Gan today in my pajamas."
Phase II: Once Mommy has dealt with any minor crisis, is standing naked in the bathroom and is about to get into the shower, declare that you too want to take a shower with Mommy. Then take five minutes to get undressed and to organize all the toys with which you will play inside the tub.
Phase III: After bringing half the toy chest into the tub, and Mommy has put on the water, decide that you don't actually want to play with anything. Rather, lay down right between Mommy's legs, right under the stream of water, so that Mommy is crowded into a corner and you get all the hot water. Keep Mommy guessing each morning, by stating on a regular basis that you do NOT want to take a shower, even if you are invited to do so.
Phase IV: On those rare mornings when you are busy doing other things, and Mommy has a glimmer of false hope, keep going in and out of the bathroom while she showers. Keep the door open, please, so all the warm steam can escape. At irregular intervals, open the shower curtain as well. Remember all those urgent distractions from Phase I? Use them all while Mommy has shampoo in her hair.
Phase V: Once Mommy is dressed for work, and is expected to look like a professional Chiropactor, make sure to wipe your nose on her outfit, just for good measure.
Phase I: After the water has been heated, distract Mommy with as many different request and tantrums as you can think of, including, "I want breakfast," "I need a diaper change," "Can you read me this book?" and the most creative, "I am going to Gan today in my pajamas."
Phase II: Once Mommy has dealt with any minor crisis, is standing naked in the bathroom and is about to get into the shower, declare that you too want to take a shower with Mommy. Then take five minutes to get undressed and to organize all the toys with which you will play inside the tub.
Phase III: After bringing half the toy chest into the tub, and Mommy has put on the water, decide that you don't actually want to play with anything. Rather, lay down right between Mommy's legs, right under the stream of water, so that Mommy is crowded into a corner and you get all the hot water. Keep Mommy guessing each morning, by stating on a regular basis that you do NOT want to take a shower, even if you are invited to do so.
Phase IV: On those rare mornings when you are busy doing other things, and Mommy has a glimmer of false hope, keep going in and out of the bathroom while she showers. Keep the door open, please, so all the warm steam can escape. At irregular intervals, open the shower curtain as well. Remember all those urgent distractions from Phase I? Use them all while Mommy has shampoo in her hair.
Phase V: Once Mommy is dressed for work, and is expected to look like a professional Chiropactor, make sure to wipe your nose on her outfit, just for good measure.
Monday, October 31, 2011
KayamaMoms
In the past year, when I had a bit of a crisis regarding my work as a Chiropractor and my desire to leave a more lasting imprint on the planet, I came up with the inspiration that single mothers by choice need to have a centralized resource center. They need a place and an address that can answer questions regarding the technical and beurocratic aspects of the fertility treatments, pregnancy as a woman alone, and the government rights of a single parent in Israel.
I had contacted the American organization, Single Mothers by Choice and they said that they had a representative here in Israel, and I had to pass all my ideas through her; unfortunately, this person was not interested in the vision I presented to her.
Today, I received a flyer via email announcing a new non-profit organization called KayamaMoms, started by someone I know from my neighborhood, named Aviva Harbater. KayamaMoms was founded to provide "tools and support for Jewish women reaching the eve of their fertility," and who are considering becoming a JSMBC. The group targets the religious market, and will be hosting their opening event tomorrow evening in Jerusalem, with a series of lectures entitled, "JSMBC: Halachic, Psychological and Medical Perspectives."
They have amassed quite an impressive set of speakers, including Rabbi Benny Lau, Rabbi Yuval Cherlow and Dr. Miri Godin of Hadassah Hospital, among others.
Many people have forwarded me this flyer, and I am as yet unsure whether I will actually attend. I don't need to hear that my daughter has validity within the Jewish community, two years after her birth. I also don't wish to be "Exhibit A" in a room full of women who may or may not fulfill their own destiny of parenthood.
The end of the page states that women who have already taken the step of SMBC are welcome as well, in order to help them "integrate more easily" into the more conventional religious family environment both in Israel and the United States. I find that statement almost insulting, except that I am sure the sentiment comes from a place of helping, rather than condescention.
I had contacted the American organization, Single Mothers by Choice and they said that they had a representative here in Israel, and I had to pass all my ideas through her; unfortunately, this person was not interested in the vision I presented to her.
Today, I received a flyer via email announcing a new non-profit organization called KayamaMoms, started by someone I know from my neighborhood, named Aviva Harbater. KayamaMoms was founded to provide "tools and support for Jewish women reaching the eve of their fertility," and who are considering becoming a JSMBC. The group targets the religious market, and will be hosting their opening event tomorrow evening in Jerusalem, with a series of lectures entitled, "JSMBC: Halachic, Psychological and Medical Perspectives."
They have amassed quite an impressive set of speakers, including Rabbi Benny Lau, Rabbi Yuval Cherlow and Dr. Miri Godin of Hadassah Hospital, among others.
Many people have forwarded me this flyer, and I am as yet unsure whether I will actually attend. I don't need to hear that my daughter has validity within the Jewish community, two years after her birth. I also don't wish to be "Exhibit A" in a room full of women who may or may not fulfill their own destiny of parenthood.
The end of the page states that women who have already taken the step of SMBC are welcome as well, in order to help them "integrate more easily" into the more conventional religious family environment both in Israel and the United States. I find that statement almost insulting, except that I am sure the sentiment comes from a place of helping, rather than condescention.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)