Out with a Wimper

Raphaela's new nursery would only accept her when she officially became a one-year old, and so for September - whatever isn't Jewish holidays- we had returned to the care taker from last year. This caring woman was the perfect fit when Raphaela was a baby and didn't do much; I now remember several of my motivations for switching Raphaela's day care program for this coming year.

I give this care taker so much credit, two of her three children are special needs, and she manages her house and works in between providing all the basic needs of her family. But because she has children who require more, it limits the hours in which she can care for Raphaela, thus limiting the hours in which I can work and support my little family. In addition, this care taker always seems to have notifications of emergency meetings and doctor visits, and I can only snag a last-minute baby sitter 1/3 of the time.

Today, case in point, Raphaela woke up with a fever and was therefore not allowed to spend any time at the care taker. I get it, there is no reason to give other children a virus, if it can be avoided. Except that in my uneducated medical opinion, I think that all the symptoms she has been experiencing in the last 24 hours have to do with teething: diarrhea yesterday, low grade runny nose, difficulty sleeping last night and the fever this morning. You can't "catch" teething, last I checked it made a child unhappy, but was not contagious.

I didn't need the care taker chastising me for even thinking about taking Raphaela out of the house, and treating me as if I were a stupid child. New mother, yes, inconsiderate and stupid, no.

I certainly didn't criticize the care taker last week when one of her children left a pistachio shell on the floor, and Raphaela almost choked on it.

And so I canceled my whole work day, and we have a doctor's appointment this evening, where he will most like say to me, "Well, you know there's this virus going around," or "It could be allergies, or teething."

Honestly, this is the first time since Raphaela's birth that she is sick, for real, and it pains me to see her miserable, and I am terrified by this fever.

Good thing the care taker canceled her services for tomorrow altogether, as one of her children has a doctor's appointment. I want Raphaela close to home when she feels this way.

I do hope that her situation improves for Succot, with her one-year Hebrew birthday only two days away.

Yom Kippur 2010

Two years ago, I observed Yom Kippur in protest. After almost one year of fertility treatments, I suffered a major miscarriage three days before the significant fast day. For three days I vomited and bled, knowing that I had not achieved the pregnancy I so desperately desired. When Yom Kippur itself arrived, I spent approximately five seconds address the heavens and said, "You know what I want," and then refused to enter a synagogue or open a prayer book. I did fast, because that superstitious part of my upbringing would not consider any other action, no matter how angry I might have been at the Greater Universe.

Last year, I fasted on Yom Kippur to try to convince my daughter that conditions outside the womb might be better than inside. The baby was pushing on my hips and coccyx, and the OB-GYN was threatening to induce labour, and so I abstained from eating and drinking. I spent the day alternatively talking to my stomach and talking to G-d, asking for the gift of love and kindness for this life I carried, for this soul I could not wait to meet in person.

Of course my strong-willed daughter ignored the obvious withholding of nutrients and arrived four days later, when she was ready, exactly nine months to the day she was conceived.

This year on Yom Kippur, I will be nursing Raphaela, in between negotiations for a solid and fruitful year for myself and my child. And I will be planning Raphaela's first birthday party.

May we all be inscribed onto G-d's "nice" list this year.

Taking Notes and Saying Thanks

Today I had the sad and unfortunate task of having to tell a patient that I suspected a diagnosis of mild autism in her daughter. This little girl, while physically active and possessing an obvious close bond with her mother, clearly tuned out most of the world around her. This little girl did not make eye contact with me, seemed to burst into crying and angry tantrums with no provocation. At the age of almost two years, this little girl refuses to walk, and does not play with the other children in nursery. The grandmother confirmed for me that she had always thought her grand daughter "didn't like her own family."

One of my nephews had been diagnosed several years ago with a mild form of autism which mostly expresses itself as a social disorder; though my nephew has a savant element as well, and is quite musically talented.

I recently heard from a religious single woman around my age, who made the JSMBC choice, and after many attempts, got pregnant. Based upon ultra-sound and other pre-natal exams, it appears that her fetus has a high probability of some mental or physical disability. It breaks my heart.

So much could have happened during my pregnancy with Raphaela, during her birth and in the last year. I look at Raphaela, and she is a happy, verbal and socially developed child; other than season allergies which she inherited from me, she is thank G-d healthy and developing ahead of schedule in many respects.

I thank G-d every day for the blessing that is my daughter, this little bundle of smiles and babbling and sharing Cheerios. I pray with everything I have and more, that in this season of High Holidays, when the Universe opens itself up to our thoughts, prayers, hopes, fears and requests, that G-d grant me and my child full health, and the resources for me to be able to continue to care for her and allow her every opportunity to make this world a better place.

The Most Glorious Word in the World

Approximately five days ago, Raphaela started calling me "Mama."
Nothing in my life prepared me for how I would feel at that moment.

R"H, Day by Day

Rosh Hashana at Savta Shira's house, Day One:
Morning wake up, 5 am
Shul attendance, three hours, with some parallel play with another little girl. She sleeps through shofar
Nap time, Mommy, five hours total
Nap time, Raphaela, two and a half hours
Allergic situation, high tissue alert for Mommy and Raphaela
Bedtime for Raphaela, 8 pm

Day two:
Morning wake up 6 am
Shul attendance, three hours with some interactive play with same little girl, awake for shofar
Nap time, Mommy, four hours total
Nap time, Raphaela, three hours
Allergic situation, high tissue alert for Raphaela, medium for Mommy
Raphaela falls off the guest bed, but does not seem to suffer damage. (Mommy suffers guilt)
Bedtime for Raphaela, 7:30 pm

Day three:
Morning wake up 5 am
We both have diarrhea, and don't eat much all day.
Shul attendance, one hour, Raphaela and I leave because she's talking too loudly, and she takes home one of the toys without my noticing.
Nap time, Mommy, one hour total
Nap time, Raphaela, four hours
Allergic situation, medium alert for Raphaela, low grade for Mommy
Bedtime for Raphaela, 8 pm, in car back to Jerusalem

Sunday morning:
Morning wake-up at 4 am, who pays attention to the clocks changing...
On the good side, she learned this weekend how to make "nice" to Savta Shira's cat, and Harry will be quite relieved as his New Year begins.

Raphaela Rivka Danzig Leeder

Click here to view this photo book larger

Genetic Memory or Baby Instinct

As a Chiropractor, I adjust Raphaela as necessary, trying to avoid the cliche of "The cobbler's children don't have shoes..." She enjoys the treatment, even laughs at certain points.

With the arrival (finally!) of her first tooth, she has been suffering lately from a runny nose and has been playing with her ears. I started to adjust her yesterday, and she grabbed my hand, placing it gently at various points on her head, neck and hips, directing me to the areas that required Chiropractic realignment.

She literally showed me the exact spots in her body that were out of balance, as if she had years of Chiropractic training.

I suppose it could be argued that as the daughter and granddaughter of Chiropractors, Raphaela has some genetic memory and heightened awareness of her physical state. Or it could be said that children are far more advanced and tuned in than we rational adults give them credit Either way, needless to say, I am amazed beyond words, at the miracle that is this small and wonderful life.