On Thursday night, Daniel, Declan, and I took the Carmelit to Massada Street. Rumor has it that a street party was taking place there, and the Carmelit was free to ride on that night. It turned out all right. Rain and thunder. Open-aired burger/fries and pomegranate juice place. Because it seems most Israelis don't pick up after their dogs' poop, I wouldn't let Declan play in the puddle after the last big bout of rain while we were at the street party. I suspected plenty of fecal matter run-off congregated in the water, and was semi-impressed, semi-disgusted, and semi-incredulous that another mom was letting her toddlers jump up and down in them. It proved too torturous for Declan to simply watch without joining in on the play, so we had to move and distract until Daniel's colleague and her boyfriend finally met up with us in the crowd.
On Friday night, Mark and his mom traveled up from Tel Aviv and we all shared a cab to Nesher to eat dinner with Or and Kirsten. There were tender meatballs in tomato sauce, nicely flavored crockpot bone-in chicken with mushrooms, roasted fingerling potatoes sprinkled with rock salt, among other things. It was delicious. I brought over some sauteed greens via the CSA supply and zucchini chocolate chip muffins, which I kind of over-baked.
Then, today, we had banana pancakes with imported Canadian maple syrup with Mark and his mom, a stroll along the Louis Promenade, and a lunch of four differently stuffed bourekas with hard-boiled eggs and Israeli pickles.
It was nice...to have company of friends. Comfortable people who I truly feel at ease around. Still, I don't know what's wrong with me... I feel "like butter spread out over too much bread." It's not because I'm awfully bored at home with Declan. There's now a schedule in place during the mornings: Mondays and Wednesdays, I stroller Declan over to Vardiya (a 25-minute hilly walk) to a Hebrew mommy-and-me group. Sundays and Thursdays, I study Hebrew for three hours while Declan plays with a babysitter.
When I meet up with friends and hang out with them for a period of time, the gray shroud lifts temporarily. And it's not that I dislike living in Israel--I'm increasingly grateful for the chance to observe the culture here firsthand. One year is really a very short time to experience a foreign country.
Yet, I'm still dragging my feet, psychologically, every single day. Not quite sure I'll make it to another day without going crazy. I am, in a word, unhappy, but I don't really know why.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
the israeli spirit
So. In all my crazy, concentrated traveling in the past two years, I've come to a realization: There are no perfect place/country on Earth.
I love my Taiwan, in the same way that I recognize a lot of Americans love their USA and Israelis who've made aliyah love their Israel. But I think, if all of us are truly honest with ourselves, we could point out a lot of problems with our first-love nations. And actually it is because of our great loves that we're able to point out a lot of deficiencies and problems we would like to see improved. For the sake of our countries' futures and our people's well-being.
However, there are still some countries that are better to live in than others, and which I would feel supportive of more than others. For example, I still despise China with all my heart, even though my hatred for it is not really with its people, except maybe that part of some of them that cover up or make light of their government's abuse. And when Daniel jokingly told me that there's a job position open in Beirut, Lebanon, I flat out said no, seriously. But, even though the US will probably always feel slightly foreign to me and I, always slightly scornful and greatly frustrated by the ignorance and entitlement that such a great part of its population possesses, I've grown much fonder of it as I witness more of life in other countries. Americans really have it very, very good. I can only chuckle at all the campaign outrage and complaints about rising gas prices on my American friends' FB newsfeed. This is not to say that the US doesn't have some serious fundamental problems, like with its public health, health care system, public education, national debt, and food market system -- to name the ones I especially worry about -- but, dang, it is so convenient and comfortable to live there on a day-to-day basis. What I appreciate most about life in the US: freedom and options for choice in basically every aspect of life. Freedom to seek information, which are much more readily accessible than in most other countries I've been to (aside from Taiwan). Which is why it's even more annoying how much quite a lot of Americans take such wonderful things for granted.
My point is, and I do have one, is that Israel's starting to grow on me... Back to my original point about every country having its own problems, there are so many things I could complain about life in israel. And reading other people's posts/rants in Israeli facebook groups confirm that I'm not just being an American softie. But, I'm starting to grow fond of some fundamental things about Israel that is truly unique to this country.
For instance, I'm still really impressed people's reaction during the burning bus incident. In the States, and I would expect even in Taiwan, if the same thing happened, there would be small-scale panic, probably some shoving, and at least two or three people falling down as everyone rushes out the bus doors. I mentioned how united in motion everyone was to my midwife during our last meeting, and she said that it's because everyone who lives in Israel long-term has essentially a plan for any emergency situation. Frankly, just reading about bus bombings in several of the Israeli novels I recently finished give me the creeps, and discovering that Haifa's last bus bombing (in 2003) occurred basically a block away from our apartment has made me look at that bus number with special regard when I see it go past.
And yet the Egged bus system in Haifa (and Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, where bus bombings happened even more frequently) is still fully functioning. Thriving, even.
My midwife, who specializes in helping women who've been through trauma to give birth naturally, also shared with me a paper she wrote that got published in one of the Israeli psychiatric journals. The paper details the experiences of Israeli women who became pregnant and gave birth after surviving terrorist attacks, and how the memories of the attacks either helped or re-traumatized them during their birthing. It's fascinating to read, and equally fascinating, how many of them just reflexively protected themselves and then carried on. One nine-month-pregnant woman was riding on a bus that exploded--she instinctively covered her face and bent down to protect her stomach as the bus windows shattered and metal pieces separated. Apparently Israeli busses are designed so that the doors automatically open in the event of an explosion, and so she got up once the initial blast settled, clambered over bodies and dismembered body parts, hopped off the bus, and sprinted for about five minutes, away from the site. Afterwards, she was physically treated like all the survivors were, and went on to give birth naturally without any post-traumatic stress disorder or long-term trauma.
Like, wow. This, to me, is a snapshot of the Israeli spirit. The threat of losing national land here is very real, and national security is no joke. Along every bus route and at the entrance of every large public space, there is a checkpoint and bag examiners. And yet, it's...not a big deal. Not in the day-to-day anyway, which is what real life is made of. The Israeli spirit is, at least on a daily basis, not a paranoid one. It is joyful and slightly (or, at 2am by the park across the street from our bedroom, very) hedonistic. And, at the same time in the back of its mind, prepared for the worst case scenario without dwelling on it.
This duality is really awesome. It gives life dignity, somehow.
I love my Taiwan, in the same way that I recognize a lot of Americans love their USA and Israelis who've made aliyah love their Israel. But I think, if all of us are truly honest with ourselves, we could point out a lot of problems with our first-love nations. And actually it is because of our great loves that we're able to point out a lot of deficiencies and problems we would like to see improved. For the sake of our countries' futures and our people's well-being.
However, there are still some countries that are better to live in than others, and which I would feel supportive of more than others. For example, I still despise China with all my heart, even though my hatred for it is not really with its people, except maybe that part of some of them that cover up or make light of their government's abuse. And when Daniel jokingly told me that there's a job position open in Beirut, Lebanon, I flat out said no, seriously. But, even though the US will probably always feel slightly foreign to me and I, always slightly scornful and greatly frustrated by the ignorance and entitlement that such a great part of its population possesses, I've grown much fonder of it as I witness more of life in other countries. Americans really have it very, very good. I can only chuckle at all the campaign outrage and complaints about rising gas prices on my American friends' FB newsfeed. This is not to say that the US doesn't have some serious fundamental problems, like with its public health, health care system, public education, national debt, and food market system -- to name the ones I especially worry about -- but, dang, it is so convenient and comfortable to live there on a day-to-day basis. What I appreciate most about life in the US: freedom and options for choice in basically every aspect of life. Freedom to seek information, which are much more readily accessible than in most other countries I've been to (aside from Taiwan). Which is why it's even more annoying how much quite a lot of Americans take such wonderful things for granted.
My point is, and I do have one, is that Israel's starting to grow on me... Back to my original point about every country having its own problems, there are so many things I could complain about life in israel. And reading other people's posts/rants in Israeli facebook groups confirm that I'm not just being an American softie. But, I'm starting to grow fond of some fundamental things about Israel that is truly unique to this country.
For instance, I'm still really impressed people's reaction during the burning bus incident. In the States, and I would expect even in Taiwan, if the same thing happened, there would be small-scale panic, probably some shoving, and at least two or three people falling down as everyone rushes out the bus doors. I mentioned how united in motion everyone was to my midwife during our last meeting, and she said that it's because everyone who lives in Israel long-term has essentially a plan for any emergency situation. Frankly, just reading about bus bombings in several of the Israeli novels I recently finished give me the creeps, and discovering that Haifa's last bus bombing (in 2003) occurred basically a block away from our apartment has made me look at that bus number with special regard when I see it go past.
And yet the Egged bus system in Haifa (and Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, where bus bombings happened even more frequently) is still fully functioning. Thriving, even.
My midwife, who specializes in helping women who've been through trauma to give birth naturally, also shared with me a paper she wrote that got published in one of the Israeli psychiatric journals. The paper details the experiences of Israeli women who became pregnant and gave birth after surviving terrorist attacks, and how the memories of the attacks either helped or re-traumatized them during their birthing. It's fascinating to read, and equally fascinating, how many of them just reflexively protected themselves and then carried on. One nine-month-pregnant woman was riding on a bus that exploded--she instinctively covered her face and bent down to protect her stomach as the bus windows shattered and metal pieces separated. Apparently Israeli busses are designed so that the doors automatically open in the event of an explosion, and so she got up once the initial blast settled, clambered over bodies and dismembered body parts, hopped off the bus, and sprinted for about five minutes, away from the site. Afterwards, she was physically treated like all the survivors were, and went on to give birth naturally without any post-traumatic stress disorder or long-term trauma.
Like, wow. This, to me, is a snapshot of the Israeli spirit. The threat of losing national land here is very real, and national security is no joke. Along every bus route and at the entrance of every large public space, there is a checkpoint and bag examiners. And yet, it's...not a big deal. Not in the day-to-day anyway, which is what real life is made of. The Israeli spirit is, at least on a daily basis, not a paranoid one. It is joyful and slightly (or, at 2am by the park across the street from our bedroom, very) hedonistic. And, at the same time in the back of its mind, prepared for the worst case scenario without dwelling on it.
This duality is really awesome. It gives life dignity, somehow.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
stepping in and out of my limited perspective
At some point in my life, I suddenly gained the realization that everyone has his own perspective on life. More specifically, the people in the room at the time when this epiphany hit me were all thinking and seeing everything else in the room from their vantage points. I know this is so ridiculously obvious, but I can tell that this is not a thought that is even remotely on my son's radar right now. And this thought explains so much, and makes me be a lot less blase about people in general.
My point is, it also makes me realize that nobody else truly understands exactly how another person feels. Not truly and exactly, you know? It's all approximations, with some people being better empathizers/guessers/imaginers than others. And that's also why I'm sure that the life Daniel and I have been living for the last two years probably looks a lot different to other people than within our little family. We've picked up and moved from Pittsburgh to China to Seattle to Taiwan to Israel, with paperworks galore and need to figure out how each of these places provides for Daniel, Declan, me, and now our daughter-to-be as well. In this month alone, Daniel, Declan, and I had: (1) an encounter with a wild boar in the middle of the night during the dark of night while trekking through the Carmel forest along a path that (we found out last night via a friend who actually finished the trail) ends in a Jewish cemetery, and (2) evacuated along with a full busload of other passengers off a bus that ended up burning down to its charred skeletal frame.
The funny thing is that when people hear about all of our moves, they think, wow, you're traveling all over the world. How exciting! And when they hear about the near wild boar goring and the burnt down bus, they say, what adventures! Sometimes when I distance myself from, well, myself, and think about our lives, it does seem pretty incredible. But mostly, we struggle with loneliness that comes from being constantly uprooted, culture shock at needing to fight for daily needs in a new system with a new language, and just psychological fatigue at being so rootless and constantly living out of our luggages and sublets--with no end in sight. I must admit that I do, in a way, really appreciate these two recent events. Suddenly being confronted with a very real possibility of a wild boar seriously injuring my husband and son, or when everyone was running swiftly off the bus with the question on all our minds as to whether it's a faulty bomb about to explode, there's that jolt of reminder: Every moment of our lives is not to be taken for granted.
It's just a fact so easily forgotten when I get so used to living out of my own perspective. I get bored with myself, and my life, yet stressed and tired by the lack of community and groups of friends that I enjoyed during graduate school in Pittsburgh. But it's true what someone said when she commented that God must have a legion of angels protecting me and my family--it reminds me of the car crash in 2006 that everyone at the scene said I should have died in. It reminds me of a lot of things that has happened along the way to my little family that we always thanked God for taking care of right after the crises passed. I think my struggle with feeling so alone and scared and worried about our present and future leaves out a lot of this kind of perspective. The viewpoint that a legion of angels has been appointed to our family, charged by God. Enough things have happened for that to not sound at all ridiculous to me.
Hm.
Credit: Paul Caruso's Twitter account for the Jerusalem Post
Egged bus no. 28 after our evacuation
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
a brief reflection, that was originally supposed to be a mere tangent
Lately, when Declan sees a Batman comic book or his Spiderman pillowcase (both courtesy of the boys whose family's apartment we're currently subletting), he would point to the Batman symbol or Spiderman's tight bums and say, "Mama!"
I waver between feeling flattered and being very, very confused.
Sometimes I get really irritated that my son is simply inseparable from me. No matter where I go, even just not being in the same room as he is for, say, 10 minutes, and very soon, I would hear an inquisitive little voice saying, "Mama? Mama??" This is a constant refrain from the darkened bedroom when Daniel's coaxing Declan to sleep at bedtime.
Still, a part of me is really glad for this connection. I have a sneaking suspicion that children have the monopoly on unconditional love, and at some point in their lives, they start losing it for some reason, even (or in some cases, especially) towards their parents. And parents, being imperfect beings as all humans are, always have some things about which their children need to forgive them at some point in the latter's life. Oh sure, there are some people I've came upon who have unbelievably wonderful relationships with their parents in all stages of their life. These people, in my experience, tend to be deeply couched in some kind of religious culture and never really moved that far away from their parents on their own. And my limiting, somewhat belittling categorization is, without a doubt, due to my wistful envy of said unbelievably wonderful relationships with their parents. I don't know if I would trade all of my life experiences for that, but...on some days, especially the days when I just got off the phone after another soul-crushing and disappointing conversation with my parents, I actually would. As I became a parent myself, I see more and more how truly tragic it is for a child and parent to be unable to understand and support each other, no matter their ages.
I sometimes wonder what these "some things" are that Declan and his sister will have to forgive their father and me for. And that makes me hyper-vigilant about my conducts and attitudes towards everything so that, at least, I would have given it my best shot in building a solid unbreakable bond between us.
In the meantime, I should do my best to enjoy the early childhood days when Declan identifies me as a superhero clad in tight spandex.
I waver between feeling flattered and being very, very confused.
Sometimes I get really irritated that my son is simply inseparable from me. No matter where I go, even just not being in the same room as he is for, say, 10 minutes, and very soon, I would hear an inquisitive little voice saying, "Mama? Mama??" This is a constant refrain from the darkened bedroom when Daniel's coaxing Declan to sleep at bedtime.
Still, a part of me is really glad for this connection. I have a sneaking suspicion that children have the monopoly on unconditional love, and at some point in their lives, they start losing it for some reason, even (or in some cases, especially) towards their parents. And parents, being imperfect beings as all humans are, always have some things about which their children need to forgive them at some point in the latter's life. Oh sure, there are some people I've came upon who have unbelievably wonderful relationships with their parents in all stages of their life. These people, in my experience, tend to be deeply couched in some kind of religious culture and never really moved that far away from their parents on their own. And my limiting, somewhat belittling categorization is, without a doubt, due to my wistful envy of said unbelievably wonderful relationships with their parents. I don't know if I would trade all of my life experiences for that, but...on some days, especially the days when I just got off the phone after another soul-crushing and disappointing conversation with my parents, I actually would. As I became a parent myself, I see more and more how truly tragic it is for a child and parent to be unable to understand and support each other, no matter their ages.
I sometimes wonder what these "some things" are that Declan and his sister will have to forgive their father and me for. And that makes me hyper-vigilant about my conducts and attitudes towards everything so that, at least, I would have given it my best shot in building a solid unbreakable bond between us.
In the meantime, I should do my best to enjoy the early childhood days when Declan identifies me as a superhero clad in tight spandex.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
enjoying organic, local, and seasonal produce via israel's community-supported agriculture
I'm so excited and glad that I had not put off calling back the CSA referred by Noga to iron out the possibility of my family's subscription. One of the things I was really bummed about in having to leave Pittsburgh was relinquishing my jobs as a pickup point person for two local farms. One of them pay in cash and any leftover produce box that any customer fails to pick up that day, and the other one pays in one subscription that introduced me to sweet local strawberries, brussel sprouts, rutabagas, beets, and other vegetables/fruits that I would never have tried or enjoyed if my only food source was the supermarket.
When I made the call this morning, the delivery people were just about to head out and make their Haifa deliveries, which happens on Tuesdays. I'm also thankful that Daniel had gotten American Express prepaid cards that I was able to use to make payments with as a regular customer, because the only way to pay this farm was via credit card over the phone. Makes sense that they don't want their delivery people to be loaded down with cash as they make their rounds.
A few things happened recently that seem to be direct responses to a recent query/rant/complaint to God by me while "in the pit of despair." I hope to elaborate later for my own posterity. Right now, I need to wash Declan's butt and try to put him down for a nap.
When I made the call this morning, the delivery people were just about to head out and make their Haifa deliveries, which happens on Tuesdays. I'm also thankful that Daniel had gotten American Express prepaid cards that I was able to use to make payments with as a regular customer, because the only way to pay this farm was via credit card over the phone. Makes sense that they don't want their delivery people to be loaded down with cash as they make their rounds.
A few things happened recently that seem to be direct responses to a recent query/rant/complaint to God by me while "in the pit of despair." I hope to elaborate later for my own posterity. Right now, I need to wash Declan's butt and try to put him down for a nap.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
the bitter melon years
Today, I officially start learning Hebrew...and we'll see how much I've learned by the end of my time in Israel. My friend Sherry from Oregon ordered some Hebrew textbooks and had Amazon ship it to Haifa. Daniel picked it up from the post office. There're three books in all, emphasizing different aspects of the language. I've started on the thinnest one, which emphasizes how to read the aleph bet. Since I don't know a lot of only-Hebrew-speaking people here, I'm going to tackle my illiteracy first of all so that maybe I'll be able to start learning vocabulary (finally!) from being able to decipher, say, my grocery bill receipt.
Having something very practical and useful to do, to learn, that's apart from the mundane tasks of housekeeping and child-caring is....really, really nice. It makes me feel almost like my own person again. Or a fragment of my own person.
I managed to do two lessons from the 10-lesson textbook during Declan's nap time just now. Most likely, when the new baby comes, it'll be an intense couple of months or first year of not having even this pocket of time to myself, but at least I won't be pregnant anymore. The going away of pregnancy hormones that bump up my suicidal streak would be ample compensation for lost studying time. Meanwhile, let me seize the moment now.
Having something very practical and useful to do, to learn, that's apart from the mundane tasks of housekeeping and child-caring is....really, really nice. It makes me feel almost like my own person again. Or a fragment of my own person.
I managed to do two lessons from the 10-lesson textbook during Declan's nap time just now. Most likely, when the new baby comes, it'll be an intense couple of months or first year of not having even this pocket of time to myself, but at least I won't be pregnant anymore. The going away of pregnancy hormones that bump up my suicidal streak would be ample compensation for lost studying time. Meanwhile, let me seize the moment now.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
I think this is perhaps the saddest thing in my life: that I have become so removed from the day-to-day life of all of my friends and family due to the constant moving and social isolation I've experienced since I got married that, were I to drop dead tomorrow, nobody's life would really be affected at all.
Except that of my son and husband, of course. But that's usually what happens when your live-in maid and nanny quit working all of a sudden.
God doesn't actually love me, does He. Because I have to wonder why He's perfectly fine with me being this way.
Except that of my son and husband, of course. But that's usually what happens when your live-in maid and nanny quit working all of a sudden.
God doesn't actually love me, does He. Because I have to wonder why He's perfectly fine with me being this way.
Friday, October 5, 2012
and it is decided
The visit to the birth center called Agoola, located in Beit Lechem Haglilit (aka "Bethlehem of Galilee"), took two hours of bus-riding from Haifa to the destination, with three bus transfers. The last bus was not run by Egged (the Israeli public bus system), but a private charter company. Declan got car-sick midway there, and vomited a little bit on himself and Daniel. As Declan inherited this trait from me, I also felt pretty ill by the end of our travels and really zoned out during and after the (also) two-hour-long bus ride home.
However, it was all worth it.
Beit Lechem Haglilit is a moshav, that is, a community farm with individually-owned family units. The birth center, Agoola, is actually just the basement of my midwife's house converted into a homey apartment-looking place, equipped with all the thing one needs for birthing and postpartum tests. There's a room for dry births and overnight stay, and a huge luxurious cocoon-esque jacuzzi tub with a headrest in the bathroom for those interested in water births. Plus a kitchenette. I was all set to do a home birth at my actual home in Haifa just so I could be spared the commute up north, but one look at that tub and I'm pretty much decided on renting a car to Beit Lechem Haglilit for the birthing.
I learned a lot from my midwife about the antepartum, birthing, and postpartum care and medical system here in Israel. For example, new moms who are Israeli citizens receive a stipend from the government for giving birth, and their birthing is free no matter where they give birth. On top of that, the government pays the hospital in which the woman gave birth 11,000 shekels. This is also why, as non-Israeli citizens, we must pay 11,000 shekels right off the bat in order to give birth at any hospitals here, not counting other actual birthing-related costs. Thanks, Israel, for making my decision to not birth in a hospital that much easier. (Although, for our current arrangement, should complications arise and I have to be transferred to the closest hospital, which is in Nazareth, I'd need to pay my midwife her fee of 5000 shekels as well as the typical hospital bill.)
The things left to do are to find out what my health insurance really is and also a doula. If it's Clalit Platinum, we might be able to get some subsidy for hiring a midwife and/or a doula. Daniel wasn't sure, after our pleasant experience at Agoola, whether we still in fact need a doula. Our midwife said that most women who opt for home births usually don't feel they need one, but I plan to interview some anyway because of the Declan factor. Last time I gave birth, there were my doula, midwife, mom, Jess, *and* Daniel as part of my team at the hospital. This time, it would just be my midwife and Daniel since my mom--if she actually makes it here to Israel for the birth--would need to help watch Declan back at home. And if my labor goes long, I'd feel a lot better if my midwife still has someone to help her care for me while Daniel drives back to Haifa to take care of Declan. We have a really high-maintenance son who has never went to sleep for a nap (except once, with Judy) or bedtime without either his dad or me being there, and even then it's always been something of a fight unless he was really exhausted. So that's something I still worry about for my daughter's birthing--how my son's going to handle the strange disruption of our absence.
But that is a small potato compared to what I had been worrying about, which I don't have to worry about anymore. Thank God.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
final hand-wringing about birth options in israel (hopefully)
So I just spent about three hours researching online regarding the best places to give birth in/near Haifa, and the best people (midwife/doula) to do it with.
Exhausted. Momentarily discouraged, again. This search was triggered by the correspondence last night with yet another mother I was introduced to before we took our Italy trip. I had been pretty excited about meeting Allyson and her then-eight-month-old son...but then she said her family's moving a week after we return from Italy. Then, I was pretty excited about meeting Miriam and her three kids...until she told me last night via FB that she's leaving for Germany in a month. Her family decided it'd be best for her to give birth to their fourth child there than do it here in Israel.
And, after all the searches in the last three hours, I totally empathize with her decision. Still, one encouraging note for me is that I decided to take one last thorough read of Allyson's email--which is quite long and chock full of her prenatal and birthing experience in Haifa--and discovered that a lot of the options and names I stumbled across on my own and read about are actually already mentioned in her email. I had missed all these before, and happily, a lot of my own conclusions are bolstered by her own experience. So it's nice to know that my gut instincts and educated guesses are right on. I'm going to consider the past three hours time well spent then, even though I gained no real new names besides what I received from Allyson. At least now I know with great certainty that the information she provides is solid.
Laniado sounds the nicest, what with its friendly relationship with doulas and midwives as well as large bathtubs. But it's 56 km away in Netanya, and husbands aren't allowed to stay the night. Unless someone from Kirsten and Or's congregation would be nice enough to host Daniel for the typical two nights that my post-birth stay would require for him, Laniado is not a good option since we still have to pay for the natural birthing suite. No point adding a hotel fee on top of that.
Carmel Hospital sounds the second nicest, but it is fairly medicalized. I hear the food is good, and we can get there by a quick ride on the bus. Still, I'm not too keen about the mandatory six-hour-long separation between mother and newborn that's typical of an Israeli hospital birth, and I don't like dealing with paperwork and constant fetal monitoring as well as unnecessary vaginal exams while in labor.
Right now, my options are either Agoola, a birth center about 20km away, with a midwife that's been recommended by two separate sources. Or home birth, with said midwife. I can't believe I'm seriously considering a home birth, but there are some definite advantages to this option, if all goes well with the birth i.e. no complications. I might miss out on the hospital food (which, like airplane food, I really, really enjoy) afterwards and whatever new knowledge I might gain about medicalized birth in Israel as contrasted with my experience in the U.S. But I guess I would be so happy with a smooth home birth that missing out on hospital food and firsthand hospital knowledge is a ridiculous trade-off to consider even a trade-off. Should we need medical help during the home birth, Carmel Hospital is close by enough.
Option #3: There is a kibbutz about 20km north of Haifa that a recommended midwife works at... It's within a stone's throw away from the Lebanese border. I don't know how we would be able to check it out though. I guess, if my impressions towards the midwife I'm meeting tomorrow at Agoola are positive, that will be the end of considering the kibbutz at all. The remaining question would be whether to give birth at Agoola or at home, and hopefully the midwife can provide some words of wisdom for that decision. I plan to start interviewing for my doula after my birthing location is set.
Exhausted. Momentarily discouraged, again. This search was triggered by the correspondence last night with yet another mother I was introduced to before we took our Italy trip. I had been pretty excited about meeting Allyson and her then-eight-month-old son...but then she said her family's moving a week after we return from Italy. Then, I was pretty excited about meeting Miriam and her three kids...until she told me last night via FB that she's leaving for Germany in a month. Her family decided it'd be best for her to give birth to their fourth child there than do it here in Israel.
And, after all the searches in the last three hours, I totally empathize with her decision. Still, one encouraging note for me is that I decided to take one last thorough read of Allyson's email--which is quite long and chock full of her prenatal and birthing experience in Haifa--and discovered that a lot of the options and names I stumbled across on my own and read about are actually already mentioned in her email. I had missed all these before, and happily, a lot of my own conclusions are bolstered by her own experience. So it's nice to know that my gut instincts and educated guesses are right on. I'm going to consider the past three hours time well spent then, even though I gained no real new names besides what I received from Allyson. At least now I know with great certainty that the information she provides is solid.
Laniado sounds the nicest, what with its friendly relationship with doulas and midwives as well as large bathtubs. But it's 56 km away in Netanya, and husbands aren't allowed to stay the night. Unless someone from Kirsten and Or's congregation would be nice enough to host Daniel for the typical two nights that my post-birth stay would require for him, Laniado is not a good option since we still have to pay for the natural birthing suite. No point adding a hotel fee on top of that.
Carmel Hospital sounds the second nicest, but it is fairly medicalized. I hear the food is good, and we can get there by a quick ride on the bus. Still, I'm not too keen about the mandatory six-hour-long separation between mother and newborn that's typical of an Israeli hospital birth, and I don't like dealing with paperwork and constant fetal monitoring as well as unnecessary vaginal exams while in labor.
Right now, my options are either Agoola, a birth center about 20km away, with a midwife that's been recommended by two separate sources. Or home birth, with said midwife. I can't believe I'm seriously considering a home birth, but there are some definite advantages to this option, if all goes well with the birth i.e. no complications. I might miss out on the hospital food (which, like airplane food, I really, really enjoy) afterwards and whatever new knowledge I might gain about medicalized birth in Israel as contrasted with my experience in the U.S. But I guess I would be so happy with a smooth home birth that missing out on hospital food and firsthand hospital knowledge is a ridiculous trade-off to consider even a trade-off. Should we need medical help during the home birth, Carmel Hospital is close by enough.
Option #3: There is a kibbutz about 20km north of Haifa that a recommended midwife works at... It's within a stone's throw away from the Lebanese border. I don't know how we would be able to check it out though. I guess, if my impressions towards the midwife I'm meeting tomorrow at Agoola are positive, that will be the end of considering the kibbutz at all. The remaining question would be whether to give birth at Agoola or at home, and hopefully the midwife can provide some words of wisdom for that decision. I plan to start interviewing for my doula after my birthing location is set.
Monday, October 1, 2012
weaning, prenatal preoccupations, and sukkot
So I think Declan is officially weaned... It's about almost a month since the last time he nursed. When we were checking out the pre-Renaissance artwork displayed in the former Venetian Royal Palace, Declan showed great interest in all the pictures of the breastfeeding baby Jesus. He said "Num-num" (his word for nursing) and repeatedly pointed at Mary's boobs, eventually lifting up his own shirt to point out his nipples. Usually, with such reminders, he'd be wailing pretty soon for me to nurse him, but at this point, he seems merely to have lots of fond memories of such an activity, with no absolute need for it anymore. He did look hopefully at me last night, after we returned from Sukkot dinner, but when I pointed out books he could read, he shifted his attention without much fuss.
And thank God for that...I had meant to nurse Declan for at least two years, not shy of 21 months. I wonder if I could have gone for a bit longer if I weren't pregnant. As it is though, my body's so sore and messed up right now from pregnancy hormones that it's a really nice break. Israeli doctors are ridiculously thorough about prenatal tests... The organ ultrasound I took on Sunday was at least half an hour longer than the one given me in Pittsburgh, and they check for not only the vital organs like heart and kidneys, but also details like the corpus callosum. Everything seems to be in order, and my daughter is currently about 700g in weight, or the 50th percentile compared with most fetuses her age. (Frankly, I find it a bit ridiculous to have such information.) I was hoping that I wouldn't need to go through the glucose test that I did when pregnant with Declan, but the nurse I talked with was pretty adamant. She seemed to think that the only reason for my hesitation is because I don't like the taste of the glucose solution I'd have to drink, given how she constantly reassured me by describing how "great" it tastes. Sigh. Whatever. My main focus right now is to find a birthing place and birthing assistants that I'm comfortable with. I'm a bit torn about two potential places right now. One of them, I'm bussing to this Thursday (hopefully the bus system is working, unlike today with the beginning of Sukkot...there's been a lot of religious-holiday-induced non-working days lately); the other is located in Netanya, a city about 56km south of Haifa. I've heard really good things about it, and love its philosophy, but I wonder if the distance would allow for everything to work out.
A bright memory here (so that I don't feel so down about missing the Great Race in Pittsburgh this year) is the Sukkot dinner last night wherein Kirsten made chili and baked potatoes with all the fixings, Or made salad, Rachel brought cherry pie, and I made garlic bread. Mark and Rachel came up from Tel Aviv, and it was a really good time with friends. I'm glad to have moments like this in a foreign country that I've moved to only a little over a month ago. It's a really a big blessing.
And thank God for that...I had meant to nurse Declan for at least two years, not shy of 21 months. I wonder if I could have gone for a bit longer if I weren't pregnant. As it is though, my body's so sore and messed up right now from pregnancy hormones that it's a really nice break. Israeli doctors are ridiculously thorough about prenatal tests... The organ ultrasound I took on Sunday was at least half an hour longer than the one given me in Pittsburgh, and they check for not only the vital organs like heart and kidneys, but also details like the corpus callosum. Everything seems to be in order, and my daughter is currently about 700g in weight, or the 50th percentile compared with most fetuses her age. (Frankly, I find it a bit ridiculous to have such information.) I was hoping that I wouldn't need to go through the glucose test that I did when pregnant with Declan, but the nurse I talked with was pretty adamant. She seemed to think that the only reason for my hesitation is because I don't like the taste of the glucose solution I'd have to drink, given how she constantly reassured me by describing how "great" it tastes. Sigh. Whatever. My main focus right now is to find a birthing place and birthing assistants that I'm comfortable with. I'm a bit torn about two potential places right now. One of them, I'm bussing to this Thursday (hopefully the bus system is working, unlike today with the beginning of Sukkot...there's been a lot of religious-holiday-induced non-working days lately); the other is located in Netanya, a city about 56km south of Haifa. I've heard really good things about it, and love its philosophy, but I wonder if the distance would allow for everything to work out.
A bright memory here (so that I don't feel so down about missing the Great Race in Pittsburgh this year) is the Sukkot dinner last night wherein Kirsten made chili and baked potatoes with all the fixings, Or made salad, Rachel brought cherry pie, and I made garlic bread. Mark and Rachel came up from Tel Aviv, and it was a really good time with friends. I'm glad to have moments like this in a foreign country that I've moved to only a little over a month ago. It's a really a big blessing.
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