tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16079136545047013022024-02-21T04:07:30.245-08:00Milk and Honey MommaSearching, transforming, loving, living. My journey as a mother
charting a new life in the Holy Land with my husband and 4 little kids.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-57677481562617843192012-02-08T13:30:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:30:48.167-08:00moving!I've moved my blog over to wordpress, please come visit me over there at http://milkandhoneymomma.wordpress.com!<div><br />
</div><div>p.s. Attn: Google, I am impressed by so much of your stuff, but completely unimpressed by blogger. Sorry!</div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-28241683872601337492012-01-16T14:19:00.000-08:002012-01-16T14:19:28.411-08:00Birth story of Asa'el (finally!)<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Birth story of Asa’el<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oct 14<sup>th</sup>, 2011/ 16 Tishray 5771<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">4:24pm<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6lbs 12oz/3kg 19.5”/50cm<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My labor had drawn out over the course of the past month, with the rushes building in intensity each time, but then inevitably petering out at some point. I got to the point of going out for long walks, pushing my 2 year old son around Katzrin in the stroller, etc… in the hopes of encouraging my body to keep the contractions coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thursday was the first day of Sukkot, and I went to shul having strong rushes. Joked with some of the women about how the baby was just going to fall out at some point. I schlepped the up-hill road home, stopping for many of the rushes. When we got home, things calmed down a bit, but didn’t stop completely. I spent the late afternoon at a neighbor’s house chatting while the kids played and wondered if this could really be it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After Havdalah, we got the kids to bed and the rushes were still coming on. I decided to take a shower and give it another hour. At around 9pm I called Chava. We decided that the best thing to do was for the team to be on alert, but to allow me my space for as long as possible. My rushes continued to come, whether I was standing, sitting, or lying down, but they weren’t finding a pattern and they weren’t consistently strong either. I was feeling concerned that I might be getting “stage fright.” Meaning that knowing that there were people waiting to hear how my labor was progressing was having a negative effect on the labor. So I called my friend Miriam, who has a full supply of homeopathic remedies, and asked her to bring me some gelsemium. She is also a talented photographer, and I had asked her if she would be willing to photograph my birth. So when she came, I think it was close to midnight, she brought several birth-related remedies, her camera, and another friend, Natasha who was going to be on childcare duty (which was light work at the time, since they were all asleep!). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I took the remedy and labored for a while. Yoram was amazing. Every time a rush would come on, he would be right there swaying and moaning with me, putting pressure in my lower back, or massaging my shoulders. At around 1am I called Chava back and she was on the phone through a contraction. Her reaction, “Ok, I think it’s time for us to head over!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t really remember much of the rest of the timeline, at some point Chava arrived, and then Naomi arrived. Miriam and Natasha were still hanging out and things were going ok. Then Yitzchak woke up. Then Odeliya woke up. They hung out for a bit, we ate fruit, Miriam got some lovely pictures! But then Naomi and Chava noticed that my rushes were spacing out. When the rushes came, they were no less intense, although they weren’t getting stronger, and they definitely were doing the opposite of getting closer together. So the Midwives suggested that Miriam and Natasha go home for a while, and that they take the two children with them. Netanel stayed asleep, but Natasha said to call her if he woke up and she would come collect him. At some point towards morning, he did wake up and Natasha was true to her word. Chava and Naomi made themselves scarce and tried as best as possible to create a private space for me and baby to do our thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I started to realize that there was something my body was resisting. I was too alert, too present. In the past, as birth became imminent, my mind would get out of the way and let my body take over. And that’s when labor would get increasingly more intense and I would lose myself to the process and allow the power of Birth to consume me. But I wasn’t going there, and I started to suspect some post-trauma. In my last birth, it was at the point where I did allow my mind to disconnect that everything started going haywire, and I put my trust into a midwife who had decided before she turned up that she was going to find a way to deny me a homebirth. So when she said, “the head is too high” and “I’m feeling swelling around the baby’s head” and “I think we need to call an ambulance” I was unable to respond with what I was thinking because my thoughts and my voice were no longer connected. I wanted to say, “but I’m ready to push.” Or “that doesn’t make any sense.” Or just, “no, I’m not going!” but I couldn’t anymore. I had allowed myself to go to a place of trust and believing that my care provider was going to actually care for me, and instead she betrayed me and abandoned me. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So here I was 2+ years later and even though I knew without any doubt that I had two amazing and trustworthy midwives attending me, and even though I knew that this time was completely different and that I was safe and my space was safe and me and my baby were safe; even though I knew that the only circumstance in which we would transfer to the hospital was if there was true danger to me and my baby (and not the midwife’s bank account), my body wasn’t ready to fully believe that. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I processed a lot of this on my own, much of it after the fact, and some of it with Yoram, and with Chava. We processed some other things also, and did some tapping, and I did some crying. I felt that it helped. My body, however, had its own agenda and that was protection. After 12 hours of hard labor, I was 4cm dilated and my little guy’s head was not engaged. When Chava checked me, she felt that something was off with his position, because she knew from palpating that the baby was head down, but she said that what she was feeling felt more like a knee! That oddity was explained when we finally saw his little knobby head! That got us thinking of different laboring positions to try to encourage the baby to get into a better position and engage. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometime in the late morning, Chava realized that this baby was going to be born sometime on Friday night, so she decided to go home and get her home and family organized so that they could function without her for the weekend, since once Shabbat came in, she wouldn’t be permitted to go home. Before she left, she, Naomi, Yoram and I discussed our options with this labor that didn’t want to kick into gear. One option of course, was to do nothing and leave it alone. Option 2 was to start what I’m going to call a “natural augmentation regimen” of herbs, homeopathics, and nipple stimulation. I was feeling very strongly at this point that my body needed to be convinced that it was safe for me to have my baby right where we were with the wonderful attendants that we had. So I opted for #2. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Chava left with instructions to be called as soon as the labor picked up. Naomi said she wanted me to try to rest for an hour and then we would start. I lay on the couch and allowed myself to savor the 20 minutes between contractions instead of stressing that they were so far apart. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An hour later, Naomi brought out the breast pump and we started 15 minutes of pumping on each side with a 15 minute break in between. She gave me a dose of labor herbs and several minutes later, a homeopathic. I don’t know how quickly it kicked in, but ooooh man did that work! Very soon after that, we were at 10 minutes apart lasting a minute each and knocking the wind out of me each time. I moaned and sang and groaned and swayed. Mostly I would get on hands and knees and Yoram and/or Naomi was right there with me pushing into my sacrum or massaging my shoulders or both. I started to not remember much between rushes and that was a really good sign that I was forcing my body to take over. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I was desperate to get into the pool, but I knew my newly invigorated labor was still so tenuous so I resisted. Then I started feeling pushy. I said I was going to go into the shower. Naomi said not to let it get too hot and to call her if I felt I was pushing. Yoram stayed nearby and popped in and out of the shower to check on me. The rushes started coming on strong, and on top of each other and I squatted down and knew that if I stayed there I was going to push out a baby. But the sensation was overwhelming and way too strong. I was suddenly terrified and called Yoram to help me get out of the shower. Naomi asked if she could check me since I was feeling so pushy. I agreed. She informed me that nothing had changed internally. She was completely unconcerned by this, and although I was a bit shocked, I took my cue from her and remained calm. She just said it meant I had more work to do before the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Something about that made me realize this was all in my head. There was a cloud of fear around me and it was having an effect on the whole process. I needed to surrender, to completely let go. Words popped into my head like <i>hospital </i>and <i>pitocin.</i> Images of fluorescent lights and faceless white-coated people bustling around me came unbidden to my mind’s eye. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I went back to my nest on the couch and carried on with the pumping, and with every rush as the pressure mounted, I pushed into it. I <i>opened up</i>. “Baby,” I said, “this is it, we’re doing this right now!” I pushed into each peak, roared into it, opened up to it, burned into the all-consuming power that was flowing through my body. I let it <i>hurt</i> and <i>burn, </i>but something was still stopping me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was kneeling on the floor over my birth ball, and my knees and ankles were hurting. My hips were hurting. These peripheral pains were distracting me. I needed to get in the pool. It was only 2 hours after Naomi had checked me and I knew she would be concerned about the water slowing things down, but I knew I’d passed the threshold, there was only one way to go from here. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yoram made sure the water was nice and warm and I got in to the pool. The world around me slipped away. I was aware that Miriam had called and that Yoram told her she should come over with her camera. I was aware that it would be Shabbat very soon and I was aware that Chava was on her way back. But that awareness slipped away into the recesses of my consciousness. I was consumed by the Divine energy of Birth in all her fury and vivid beauty and intensity. I felt my baby barreling down through my pelvis and in that contraction my water broke. Breathlessly, I said, “Yoram the baby’s coming and I need a break!” The contraction didn’t stop, pushing wasn’t a process, it was a thing that was happening to me within the span of a few minutes. There was fear in those seconds, and I dispersed. But Yoram and Naomi gathered me in, they re-centered me and I let go. I felt him coming down and the intensity was overwhelming and I roared and thought my pelvis was going to explode! And then he was there, in my arms, slippery and slimy and beautifully pinkish-purple. I knew he was a boy without checking, he was so present with me and I gathered him onto my chest and heaved with joy and relief! He opened his beautiful dark eyes and fixed me in a stare that was unbreakable. I was smitten. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He was doing this gurgling thing, and Naomi said calmly, “it would be good if you kissed him and give him some air,” so I did, and then he let out a reassuring, heart-rending wail! What a beautiful sound! He calmed right down though as I massaged him and we covered him with towels, and Miriam snapped away. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My beautiful little guy had come barreling out with no molding, all 13 inches of his head circumference, so I was pretty sure all those muscles that had done that work weren’t going to be much use in pushing out the placenta. So I got out of the pool onto chux pads layered on the couch. Then Chava walked in. She was in shock that she had missed the birth! She and </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Naomi helped settle me and helped me get out the placenta, and Miriam went out to the Sukkah to light candles for herself and for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Naomi encouraged me to allow the baby to just rest on my belly and not to force him to the breast, and I knew what that was about, because I had seen the video of the self-latching babies in my doula course. And he did it! He wormed his way, head bobbing, up my chest and latched himself right on to my left breast! It was amazing! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And even more amazing was the fact that I had no tearing at all – not even a skid! I am so grateful for that! The joints of my pelvis are still a little sore, three months later! So I’m glad that I didn’t also have to recover from tearing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After a little while I showered and got settled in my bed and Natasha brought the kids back, and Naomi left and we started to welcome our new little light into the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was blessed to have Chava be there as a post-partum doula for the first 25 hours after birth! I don’t know how we would have been able to get through Shabbat without her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At some point while Naomi and Chava were checking the baby and weighing him and so forth, I had leaned over to Yoram and said, “I am having a thought about this baby’s name.” “Yeah? I also have something in mind,” he answered. We agreed that as soon as we had some time alone we’d discuss it. Later that night, I was sitting on my bed nursing our new baby, and Yoram was sitting in his bed, and it was quiet. “So what was the name you were thinking of?” I asked. Yoram said, “I’m thinking Asa’el.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So was I. The last time we had mentioned that name was when we were making a name list during my first pregnancy, so it seemed very clear that when we both independently came back to it at that moment, that Asa’el was our baby’s undisputed name. (It means “God’s work”) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It has taken me almost 3 months to put this story down in words. There was a lot of processing that I’ve gone through in that time. Here are some of my thoughts:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the things I had prayed for specifically and consistently throughout this pregnancy was that the birth should be a healing experience for me. I feel that Hashem granted me that in every way. Asa’el’s birth was very clearly a tikkun for the traumatic birth experience that I had with Yitzchak. Down to the minutest details.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We moved into this house at around 33 weeks, which is where I was at when we moved to Katzrin in May of 09. I had a team of 2 fabulous midwives who fully and completely trust birth, women, and themselves. About 2 weeks before I gave birth, I had a true “false alarm.” Meaning that I truly thought I was going to give birth, Chava, Naomi and my friend Tziona who was to be my doula, came out. After a full night of on and off labor, my contractions petered out. But no one was annoyed or upset. I think my body did that to subconsciously test that this would be different from the last time. And then during my actual labor, which lasted a whopping 20 hours, 16 of which saw no “progression” and nobody was thinking of a transfer. All the indications were that me and the baby were doing well, so there was nothing to worry about. The decision to take action was entirely mine. Chava, who I had considered my midwife more than Naomi, actually left in the middle of labor and missed the birth! I had the experience of her leaving, but knowing fully that I wasn’t being abandoned. Firstly because Naomi was there the entire time and she was amazing. And secondly because it was clear that Chava was loving me and the baby, and that her leaving was to facilitate her being able to be completely present with me when she returned. And then she was with me for that critical post-birth time, which was actually when the midwife had left me at the mercy of the hospital with Yitzchak. Also, something I’m seeing just now in the re-telling is that in the ambulance when Yitzchak was born, he was limp and blue and that midwife actually did tell me to give him a breath, which I did and he pinked up. This time, Asa’el was alert and fine, but hadn’t been too eager to really take in that first gulp of air, and Naomi also told me to breath into his mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I feel a strong significance to all these details and I feel so whole and healthy, where there had previously been a deep chasm. I am so grateful for this birth, for Asa’el, for my midwives, for Yoram. I feel so deeply blessed.</span></div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-18586172045974120272011-07-22T06:10:00.000-07:002011-07-22T06:10:20.670-07:00Girl Power!! I love my daughter!Overheard this morning:<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Netanel: Odeliya! We're playing Star Wars! I'm Luke and you're Princess Lea, Ok?</div><div>Odeliya: Ok. (then she goes running into the other room)</div><div>Netanel: No! Princess Lea, don't go in there, there are bad guys!</div><div>Odeliya: I don't care, I'm strong. I can kill them.</div><div><br />
</div><div>yeah!!!! Now note her costume:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Star Wars: The Ballet!<br />
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</tbody></table></div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-58557585631892400842011-07-20T23:01:00.000-07:002011-07-20T23:01:50.843-07:00Back to work - and excited!!Hey all! Ok, I've been MIA - and I pledge a post in the next week explaining why - and then they'll make into a movie for the Hallmark channel and we'll all breath a little easier.<br />
<br />
But in the meantime, I've started my new job as Marketing Director of <a href="http://www.mamala.co.il/">Mamala Maternity</a>!! The <a href="http://mamala.co.il/blog/">Blog</a> is already up and the twitter and fb are just beginning... (I'll post links to that stuff when there's more to see there.)<br />
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Go check it out and tell me what you think!!!<br />
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Love to all,<br />
~AyeletAyelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-35367322657018966212011-06-14T12:48:00.000-07:002011-06-14T12:48:14.708-07:00How babies are born - by OdeliyaYesterday my 4 yr old daughter came home from preschool and spent most of the afternoon playing in the yard with her brothers and the dog. This happy quiet playing allowed me to unpack a few more boxes in my bedroom. (It also resulted in my cellphone being dumped into a bucket of water... :-) )<br />
<br />
While I folded and sorted clothing for babies of all genders and ages, Odeliya came wandering in to my room with a baby doll in her arms.<br />
"Mommy, when you go to have a baby do you go to the doctor and he cuts you open and takes out your baby and then puts your stomach back?"<br />
Did I hear that right? I mean, WHAT?! deep breath.<br />
"What was that, Odeliya?" <i> </i>I asked. She repeated her initial statement almost to the word. Now, it is very important to note that Odeliya is not a verbally expressive child. She is emotional and physical, but not generally verbal. So this was extremely articulate for you.<br />
Clearly I couldn't exclaim "No! that is NOT how babies are born!" because the truth is that some babies do need to be born that way.<br />
Two things were going through my mind at this point:<br />
1) Where did she hear this?<br />
and 2) When did cesarean birth become the prevailing notion for how babies get born?<br />
"Odeliya, where did you hear that?"<br />
"Tal told Daria in gan that that's how babies are born." Oh great, Daria's mother is due any minute, I'm sure she's going to love hearing this even more than I did!<br />
"I see. Well, Odeliya, that is not the way that babies are born. Sometime, if there is an emergency - if something is really <i>wrong</i> - a baby might need to be taken out that way. But that is not the way all babies are born."<br />
In the span of 10 seconds several versions of how to explain birth to a 4 year old - this 4 year old - flashed through my mind and none of them felt right. If I were talking to Netanel, I could have <i>told </i>him. Odeliya doesn't pay too much attention to words. So after a brief mental debate where I weighed to benefits vs. risks of going to video, I asked her if she would like to <i>see</i> how babies are born. I wished at that moment that I had a video of her birth to show her... but we went to youtube instead.<br />
<br />
Odeliya was fascinated, completely enthralled. She watched with quiet focus as several mommies birthed their babies.<br />
I watched her reactions, and quietly commented that the blood she was seeing is what cushions the baby inside the mommy and not scary blood like when she gets a booboo. I think I made another explanation too, but I can't remember about what. Afterwards I asked her what she thought and this was her response:<br />
"Oh."<br />
And off she went to carry on torturing the dog!<br />
<br />
Thanks, Dels, I'm glad we had this little talk.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-92177820544004558532011-05-23T00:12:00.000-07:002011-05-23T00:12:42.465-07:00Sharing the beauty of motherhoodI just had to share this beautiful photo from my beloved MW, Olivia with her daughter Zora.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T37TZbl55ejy93V0tKYmWTXGN5dbPssTwO6-BkWjLVXio6O7uTkjCEGyYeud2lmcdnH1JxHZmfuhSFIbZiCtMP3uB4YCj3Egb0E4owCRt9ObO6_vzApkU3lqfo7NiymTBomRiwBjBEH1/s1600/247297_2083852460173_1360968071_32494771_4202380_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T37TZbl55ejy93V0tKYmWTXGN5dbPssTwO6-BkWjLVXio6O7uTkjCEGyYeud2lmcdnH1JxHZmfuhSFIbZiCtMP3uB4YCj3Egb0E4owCRt9ObO6_vzApkU3lqfo7NiymTBomRiwBjBEH1/s320/247297_2083852460173_1360968071_32494771_4202380_n.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Olivia's caption: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">Love is when you don't mind sitting in an akward position for nearly an hour while your beloved sleeps :)</span></div><br />
And later that same night, my little guy woke up very disgruntled. He was clammy and mosquito-bitten, and he pulled off his diaper... He finally settled himself, lay his head on my chest and fell back asleep. He must have been jealous of Zora! And I found more pillows to keep me propped up so he'd be comfortable. I felt like I could have stayed like that all night, just breathing in his sweet scent, feeling the softness of his skin, and watching the rise and fall of his breathing...<br />
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Of course, in retrospect, I'm very thankful to Yoram for gently helping me put on a new diaper and lay him down in his own bed (for at least a few hours till he came back in to our room!)Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-30114897669659643092011-04-05T17:26:00.000-07:002011-04-05T17:26:16.417-07:00Is this supposed to break me, or inspire me to fight the system?I have been trying to sleep. And I can't. <div><br />
</div><div>It's almost 2:30 in the morning and I really need to sleep, for the past 2 days I've been trying to process this experience and understand how to fit it into my life and now it's keeping me up despite my best efforts to relax, to think about other things - I even drank some wine to help me relax. To no avail.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have to express this.</div><div><br />
</div><div>On Monday I took the driving test that is required by Israeli law to transfer my foreign license. According to the law (as written on the DMV website) this test is supposed to be a very short test to see that the driver does in fact know how to handle a car. This is to deter situations where people forge foreign licenses and then come to claim an Israeli one. Or so I'm told. Because once upon a time an Oleh was able to present their valid license and receive a valid license. I don't fully understand why they can't just do a routine check with the DMV in the state of the issued license to check if it's valid. Especially between Israel and the US - where I am still a citizen and where I pay taxes. (meaning, the two countries have an allied relationship. and some would say even an interdependency - whatever let's not get into that.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>An immigrant is given 2 chances to pass this driving test after which they must take a written test and then a regular driving test. Last year I made all the arrangements, found a driving instructor, scheduled a test and failed. You know what? I failed. I hadn't driven in nearly 6 months because we don't have a car. The instructor I chose was terrible and I have since found out that everyone in the industry knows that. (If you live in the North and you want to check that your instructor in Kiryat Shmona is not this guy, you can contact.me - I'm not going to slander him, but I'll tell you who he's not.) Anyway, on that test, I actually drove into a street that had a Do Not Enter sign. (note that the sing was extremely faded and not in full view, but I violated it all the same.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>This time I came prepared. I found a really good instructor - Niv. (You can call me for his number if you need someone) I still don't have a car, and am technically no longer allowed to drive on my NJ license cuz I've been here more than a year, so I did the right thing. I took a bunch of lessons in Kiryat Shmona, he took me on all the test routes, he pointed out the hard bits, I did great. By the time the tester sat down next to me, I was feeling totally Zen. I felt completely confident in my ability to drive, I felt completely confident that all outcomes are in God's hands and we proceeded. I even was able to overcome my Brooklyn habit of always being ready at the gas! </div><div><br />
</div><div>There was another girl in the car with me, a teenager who was going to be taking her test second and who had already failed two or three times.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I drove beautifully, no problems - then Hashem sent me a challenge, and I slipped. It seems that a particular small street in Kiryat Shmona starts off as a one way street and then without any signage becomes a two way street. I didn't drive on the wrong side of the street. That wasn't the issue. What I did do was when I was asked to make a left at the end of that street, I signaled and then moved to the left to make the turn from the left side which is the law for a one way street. Once my mistake was pointed out to me I immediately (and calmly with no hesitation or nervousness) corrected myself and continued driving. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You're asking yourself how this is fair because how was I supposed to know that it changed to a two way? As everyone who drives in Israel knows, there are no lines on the street. On this particular day, no one drove up on my left either, and it happened that there were no cars parked facing the wrong way (although as everyone in Israel knows that wouldn't mean anything either.) What did happen was that I crossed an intersection. And when a street reaches an intersection - all previous bets are off. This includes changes in speed limit. If there is a sign indicating a change in speed limit, this means until a new sign or until an intersection - that's important information all you olim!</div><div><br />
</div><div>So anyway, everything else went just fine and the tester was actually quite nice about it, and I still felt confident. The girl who took her test next was awful! I'm sorry, but my gage these days is whether or not I am made to feel like hurling, and she was so choppy, and she was speeding several times - which he pointed out, and she accelerated into a dangerous turn instead of breaking - which he pointed out, and then she stayed in the left lane of a larger two lane street (on which she was speeding) which he pointed out, which you can also get a ticket for in this country.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When we got out of the car I felt very confident that although I had slipped up, I proved what I was supposed to prove, and the tester was aware that this was a foreign transfer and that the story was <i>finally</i> over.</div><div><br />
</div><div>At 4pm my instructor called and tried to find my name on his list of people who passed. He wasn't sure of my last name, even when I repeated it but he said he couldn't find it on the list and he was sorry. He told me that when he gets my form the next day we would know why I failed and that was it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I decided that mistakes happen, and continued to pray that this was a fluke. Because I mean, we have to get to Jerusalem for Pesach - a family of 5 with suitcases and not to mention my belly. And not only that, but we are going to be there for a week and a half, and had planned on taking some trips since it is the only time of year that Yoram has vacation. And I was gonna keep asking for what I felt was right until I had a clear answer that the answer is no. (you know like kids do to their parents all the time.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>But that's not all. If I have to take this test over it means the following - getting to Kiryat Shmona and paying to take the written test one day, I won't be able to retake the driving test until next month. That means another lesson or two since I won't have driven in that time, it means getting back and forth to Kiryat Shmona, it means finding places for my kids after school... It means that I am being made a victim of this stupid beaurocracy that is complete nonsense and that is so ingrained that it is impossible to fight.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Today at around 1pm (after many tearful prayers and a lot of processing) my instructor called me and I was prepared for an answer - whatever it was.</div><div>(the conversation - mostly in Hebrew, went like this)</div><div>"Ayelet, I don't know why you failed." </div><div>"what?"</div><div>"on your green form, he wrote 'fail' but the test form where he needs to write why is missing"</div><div>"what do you mean? so maybe there was a mistake. I don't accept that. Unless I see why he's failing me I'm going to fight this! I proved that I can drive, that is all that was required of me on this test. What happened to the other girl?"</div><div>"She passed." </div><div>"What??? She told you the mistakes she made! How did he pass a teenager that failed 3 times and made clear mistakes and not me? A mother of 3 with 14 years of driving experience? What do we do now?"</div><div>"Ayelet, drop it, he can do whatever he wants. Tomorrow I will go into the DMV and find out what happened to your form. But that's about it. If he says you failed you failed."</div><div>"I don't accept it, Niv. Not until I see that form."</div><div>"But you made a left turn from the wrong lane. He can fail you for that."</div><div>"Niv, this is not ok. If I had the form I would understand, but maybe there is room to try and fight this - because you know I can drive!"</div><div>"So write a letter and I will take it with me tomorrow. Write exactly what you told me. But this is Israel, Ayelet, you can't fight this. It's not America."</div><div><br />
</div><div>We hung up.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Most Olim after a couple of years accept the israeli mentality of "Ayn Ma la'asot" (nothing can be done). That's the way it is, there's no fighting it. So I'm being reticent. I believe that everything comes from Hashem. But I don't believe that means that we lie down and accept injustice. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to fight this, but I feel that I'm alone. and one little shnook from NY is not going to make any sort of difference against the department of transportation. But I feel that my rights are being violated - and I'm sure I'm not the only one. Maybe it wasn't in your driving test, but somewhere in this ridiculous system, you've been taken advantage of because you didn't know the language or all the rules and they used that against you. Sometime during your Aliyah you've been made to feel unwelcome by the very authorities that should be supporting you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I need some help. And honest opinions. Am I out of my mind? Am I supposed to just accept this and take the test again (and everything that comes with it) and pay another ~800 shekel when all is said and done? And just chalk it up to "ayn ma laasot?" I'm in Israel now? Or should I rally the forces, find others who oppose this and who have experienced this and launch a full scale attack on this insanity. It has to stop somewhere. Just as there is a reason for everything, there is also a reason that a large percentage of world Jewery was exiled to North America before coming here. We have a different experience. We know better. Should we not be trying to make things better for everyone here? </div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to go in there tomorrow with Niv and find out what happened - but Niv's exact words to me on the topic were, (in Hebrew) "Ayelet, let it go. It's a waste of your energy to fight this office. You don't know them, they don't care about anyone! If you spit on them, they'll piss on you. They don't care. It's a waste of your energy that is better spent studying for the written exam, and moving on."</div><div><br />
</div><div>Obviously, as evidenced by the fact that I'm writing about this at 3:15am, I'm not ready to accept this. What is the next step then? Suck it up and get used to it? Or try to make a change?</div><div><br />
</div><div>(And while we're on the topic - anyone know what the maximum penalty is for driving on a foreign license past the alloted time? Just curious.) </div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-72243466212581287002011-01-26T15:35:00.000-08:002011-01-26T15:35:46.266-08:00Overworked and Underpaid in Israel... another news inspired postI just read this article in <a href="http://bit.ly/f8o51G">Haaretz</a> about the growing problem of poverty in Israel.<br />
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The author suggests that the government implement welfare to work programs and vocational training, and that's all fine and good... but I don't think that is truly treating the root of the problem. In my opinion, that's just another <s>band-aid</s> plaster (as we call it here!)<br />
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I know I've only been here for 2 years, but I'm taking the liberty to comment on this from a personal perspective.<br />
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B"H, Yoram got a job relatively quickly as Aliyah stories go. We moved to Katzrin in May and he was hired as a temp worker in the winery in August. Within the last year, he was promoted to a full time employee, and although there are many wonderful benefits of his job (not the least of which is free wine!) his income alone puts us right in the above statistics. And he works <i>haaard!</i><br />
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I'm going to make a bold statement. In my opinion, the lack of education is what's causing more people to drop below the poverty line. The problem is that pay is not commensurate with workload in most "middle class" jobs.<br />
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In most of Israel, certainly here in the Golan, a one-income family is not even the dream that most couples aspire to achieve - only needing two incomes would suffice!<br />
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Vocational training programs, as well as easily attained government subsidies to attend them, exist in spades here. But what happens once you enter your new profession? Will you now suddenly feel fulfilled and able to sustain a lifestyle that allows for even the most meager purchases over "basic needs"? or even those actual basic needs (without going into overdraft!)?<br />
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Probably not.<br />
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Maybe if you're single and live in your parent's Mamad. But not if you actually want to get married and have a family.<br />
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What we need is to raise minimum wage to something that reflects the actual prices of groceries and basic amenities. We need a way to encourage companies and employers to pay higher salaries and give more merit based and need based raises. Benefits packages need to be re-evaluated to reflect the needs of the allegedly vanishing middle class families.<br />
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<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">an overly generous social welfare system that leads to people finding it easier to stay home and live off of welfare checks than heading back to work</span></blockquote>Considering that in most cases a second income will not cover daycare - you might also be tempted to take the "easy" road of unemployment if it means you get to raise your own kids - or even see them and spend time with them instead of being completely exhausted from the 2 or 3 jobs that you are working just to pay the bills.<br />
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And then, once all that's done, and we "middle-classers" have a little disposable income - that's when we North Americans will be needing our Sunday's back to shop!Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-12023755622845045972011-01-06T10:19:00.000-08:002011-01-06T10:19:53.603-08:00What's in your backpack?This post is inspired by Crazy Stable's recent <a href="http://crazystable.squarespace.com/journal/2011/1/6/the-children-who-forgot-how-to-play.html">post</a> about the sad reality of the death of playtime (my high school English teacher is not going to like that sentence!) You should read it.<br />
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It reminded me of a recent experience with Tani and an inspection of the contents of his backpack...<br />
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Tani is learning in an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waldorf_education">anthroposophic</a> learning environment where he and his 13 classmates learn through experience, movement, art, etc... He knows all his letter and numbers up to 13 (they just started numbers a few weeks ago), he creates phenomenal drawings based on the readings of the weekly Torah portion, and he can sounds out words that he sees with ease. Yes, Mom, I know you think he's exceptional - but you're biased, ok? His classmates are on par.<br />
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He doesn't get homework. About a month ago Yoram realized that Tani's backpack was really heavy and we wondered what's inside it? It's not like he's lugging textbooks and binders like his public school counterparts... so we asked him to show us.<br />
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"Oh," I said, "exactly what a six year old <i>should</i> have in his backpack!"<br />
The full inventory:<br />
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<ul><li>a small green towel from his pre-school graduation (always know where your towel is!)</li>
<li>several rocks of varying shapes, colors and sizes - he also told us the names of some of them, such as flint and basalt</li>
<li>a collection of sticks</li>
<li>some bits of crayon</li>
<li>his case of colored pencils that I embroidered with his name (by hand! didn't know I was that talented, didja?)</li>
</ul><div>After reading the above post, I was so thankful that my kids have more fun with rocks and sticks than with digital apparatus. And can I put in a shameless Golan Aliyah plug here? It helps that we live in a town where the kids can go play outside themselves, where the prominence of digital play pieces is extremely low, and where we have lots and lots of nature and animals 10 minutes walk in any direction!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Thanks for the inspiration! And thanks for sharing the post, Lenore, @<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: ArtBrushMedium, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><a class="_userInfoPopup networkName" href="http://twitter.com/FreeRangeKids" style="color: #4e763e; display: inline !important; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 12px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="freerangekids">FreeRangeKids</a>!</span></div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-64981113340038937882010-12-28T11:54:00.000-08:002010-12-28T11:54:38.979-08:00My blogging as guided by a six yr oldCan you please tell me I'm not the only one - sometimes I just can't remember my kids' names! It's not that there are so many of them, but there are usually at least 7 other things going on in my brain while I am trying to address the concern of my little bundle of joy - whatshisname.<div><br />
</div><div>Today's episode - Netanel Chimes In</div><div><br />
</div><div>Mommy is cooking dinner in the kitchen, chopping carrots and sweet potatoes for red lentil soup (recipe below!). She just managed to put the baby down in the salon to play with his siblings, and is just beginning to feel the sweetness of working with two hands - when chaos strikes!</div><div><br />
</div><div>A toy was grabbed, hair was pulled, crying ensues...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Mommy (calling from the kitchen as she chooses between curry and cumin, finally deciding on both): Netanel, can you please help with sh-oh-ne- the- that-"</div><div>Netanel (incredulously): Yitzchak?</div><div>Mommy: Yes! Please help him to stop crying.</div><div>Netanel (now with impunity): Mooommy! What? You don't even know you're child's name? </div><div>Mommy (absently, stirring the soup): sometimes.</div><div>Netanel (with the know-it-all essence only a six year old can convey): (chuckles) you don't even know your kids' names! Blog that!</div><div><br />
</div><div>So I did. :-)</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>Absent-minded One-handed Red Lentil Soup recipe:</div><div><br />
</div><div>Ingredients:</div><div>2 onions, chopped</div><div>3 carrots, chopped or grated</div><div>2 sweet potatoes, in chunks</div><div>1 apple, grated</div><div>4 cloves garlic, minced</div><div>2 liters of water</div><div>1 cup red lentils, rinsed</div><div>spices: salt, pepper, cumin, turmeric, curry, 1 bay leaf, 4 whole cloves, 4 dried myrtle berries</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sautee onion in olive oil over low heat (that way it doesn't burn while you run to wipe a nose, flush a toilet, sooth some tears, etc...)</div><div>add carrots, sweet potato, apple</div><div>add the ground spices and stir until aromatic</div><div>add garlic, sautee for about 30 seconds</div><div>add water, bring to a boil (you wanna raise the heat now!)</div><div>throw in the lentils and the bay leaf, cloves and berries (if you're not sure what these are, you can skip them!)</div><div>Simmer for about an hour, remove bay leaf, cloves and berries, and hit that pot with an immersion blender!</div><div><br />
</div><div>(If it seems like it still needs something, it does - lemon juice. Squeeze in about a 1/4 cup of lemon juice and you will have soupy bliss!)</div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-89774380060489155132010-11-22T14:39:00.000-08:002010-11-22T14:39:21.437-08:00Yes, its a political post... so shoot meA law was passed in the Knesset today that is very refreshing. As I read the <a href="http://www.jpost.com/Israel/Article.aspx?ID=196373&R=R1&utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter">article</a> in the Jerusalem Post, I breathed a deep sigh of relief and offered thanks to The Holy One for a glimpse of the goodness so often hidden from our sight.<br />
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The law states that in order to hand over any annexed land (such as my home in the Golan for example) in a peace deal, the proposal would have to be approved by a super majority vote in the Knesset or a national referendum. Can I get a "Baruch Hashem!" (more appropriate in the this case than "Hell yeah!" but with a similar connotation)<br />
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I don't usually read the news, I find it too depressing, and anyway, what truth can you really get from the media? Take <a href="http://www.ctstv.com/michaelcoren/index.php?vidID=20588">this</a> enlightening little snippet that I came across yesterday about the alleged hoax of the Muhamed Al-Dura killing 10 years ago. It's stories like this that bastion my decision to stay far away from news reports...<br />
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But times have changed, and I find myself stumbling upon a news article here and there... and it's nice to finally see something heartening - until you read the appalling response of Kadima leader, Tzipi Livni to the bill. I'll quote it in just a second...<br />
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Israel is a democracy right? The only one in the Middle East - maybe that's why the definition can be applied to loosely? No one to compare to around here... As I read it, partly out loud for Yoram's benefit and to assure I was understanding it correctly, I got to the quote:<br />
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<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;">“The question today concerns national referendums in general and not the specific topic presented as part of this bill. There is a question of principle here, and it has nothing to do with who wants to give away parts of Israel,” </span></blockquote>Here I stopped and interjected, "because god forbid we should actually give power to the people!" To which Yoram responded, "she actually said that?" I said no... until I kept reading...<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;">Kadima Chairwoman Tzipi Livni told her faction during the meeting. “These are decisions that leaders who understand the scale of the problems and are exposed to all of its aspects are supposed to make. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;">The public is not a substitute for good leadership.”</span></span></blockquote>What??!!! Sorry, can I say that again... WHAT?!?! <br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;">Livni slammed Netanyahu, describing him as “a weak prime minister who finds it comfortable to be constrained,” and argued that the law “has nothing to do with right and left, but rather about how decisions are made in this democracy. There is one national referendum, and it is general elections.”</span></blockquote>And in case you weren't sure yet about how Ms. Livni defines democracy, we have this lovely little nail to knock into the proverbial coffin:<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;">“This is not a about asking the nation, but about giving a veto to decisions made by the elected government and the Knesset,” Livni complained</span>. A large number of Kadima MKs, including Mofaz, indicated that they would not participate in the vote rather than vote against the measure. </span></blockquote>Choosing not to participate in the vote, dear Knesset Members is in direct opposition to the very concept of a democracy.<br />
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I love living here, and I believe with all my heart (however archaic) that this is the Land which was promised to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov to be inherited by their children for all time. I believe this is where the Jewish future is. But I think there is a lot of work to be done here.<br />
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That being said, I must also reiterate my infinite thanks to Hashem that this law did in fact pass and that if some upstart Leftist lunatic ever decides that we should be evacuated in favor of Syrian dominion over my home - at least I'll be able to throw in my vote and know it will be heard.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-61341425772045469612010-11-07T09:11:00.000-08:002010-11-07T09:11:12.680-08:00Dave Barry on birth in the modern worldIn all relationships there are things that you bring and things that your husband brings, and even after 9 years, you can still pick up items and say, "oh, that B52's album is from my husbands <i>pre</i>-marriage days..." and other such things.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>One of the things my beloved husband brought with him that I didn't think would interest me is a compilation of 4 <a href="http://www.davebarry.com/">Dave Barry</a> books called, "All the Dave Barry You Could Ever Want" It would probably have remained on the shelf as a conversation piece if one of our good friends wasn't already a Dave Barry fan. Whenever he is over, he take it out to read. He happened to have left it out on the couch the last time he was here, and as I was sitting and nursing this evening, I decided to pick it up and randomly open it. And this is what I found:</div><div><br />
</div><div>In his book, "Dave Barry's Guide to Babies and Other Hazards of Sex" he talks about the cost of having a baby:</div><div><br />
</div><div>"In primitive times, having a baby was very inexpensive. When women were ready to give birth, they simply went off and squatted in a field; thiss cost nothing except for a nominal field rental charge. Today, of course, the medical profession prefers that you have your baby in a hospital, because only there can doctors, thanks to the many advances in medical equipment and techniques, receive large sums of money." </div><div><br />
</div><div>Love it! </div><div><br />
</div><div>I don't know if I'll ever listen to the B52's album, but after 8 and a half years of marriage, my husband's made a Dave Barry fan out of me!</div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-17301716639447760202010-11-06T13:41:00.000-07:002010-11-06T13:41:47.259-07:00Let's go to the movies...I have a totally random thought that I decided to share... That's what blogging is all about right? :-)<br />
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This clip is from one of my all time favorite movies, Annie. And it illustrates an interesting point that came up today in conversation...<br />
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<br />
Somehow our lunch table conversation stumbled upon movies, "have you seen this Avatar yet?" and "Do you believe their releasing a Pirates of the Caribbean 4?!"<br />
<br />
I don't mind discussing movies from an artistic perspective - the plot and script from a literary standpoint, the cinematography, and my favorite subject - the sociology of movies. What makes a movie popular? What demographic was it targeting and why did it succeed or not. One of my guests, a good friend, said she hates sequels, they are almost always a waste. She said she was so upset by the 2nd and 3rd Pirates movie, to which her husband added, "they should have just let that franchise die." And then my friend's next question was, "so when are we going to see Harry Potter 7?!"<br />
<br />
Harry Potter is not something I am going to see in the theater, but I'll rent it I'm sure. Eventually our conversation turned to other things, and the subject was left off.<br />
<br />
Then later this evening I was thinking about it. I actually enjoyed the Pirates trilogy, and although I won't rush to see it in theaters, I will probably watch the 4th movie as well. So does that make me dense, or uncultured, or part of the unthinking masses? I don't think so. I think it just depends on what one expects from their movie viewing experience.<br />
<br />
I only watch a very specific kind of movie. A movie that is entertaining, and leaves me feeling happy and unviolated. I appreciate a witty and intelligent script, interesting cinematography and actors who take their work seriously - but not too seriously! I won't complain if the plot is exceptionally unique, the acting superb and the dialog scintillating, but I don't need it.<br />
<br />
In the words of Martin Charnin, (who wrote the lyrics for the above number) "Only happy endings, that's our recipe..." That's a good movie for me!Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-49859086803817709892010-11-03T16:00:00.000-07:002010-11-03T16:00:03.855-07:00Uncomfortably numb...<div>It took me until this minute and writing the title for this post to realize that what I'm experiencing is actually numbness... the question is why?</div><div><br />
</div><div>We have a big decision in front of us right now, and it's weighing so heavily in me that I can't even feel it. The number of factors and variables seem endless and the consequences of a wrong decision would add significant difficulty to our lives. I guess my heart knows that if it would also contribute to the situation by adding the emotional aspect of the choices, I'd just collapse, so I think that's why I've gone numb... and yet, the drum is still beating and a decision must be reached.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm hoping that writing will help, so you're along for the ride - and comments are sooo very welcome!</div><div><br />
</div><div>We came to the Golan w/ a dream of living on a moshav (small settlement) and having some land to have a homestead. We came to Katzerin b/c there was no place to rent on any of the religious moshavs, and we weren't (are still not) in a position to buy anything. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We've been in Katzerin for a year and a half now. We have friends, we love our neighbors, we've become the unofficial "absorption center" and "guest house" of Katzerin and we love it! But we don't have room for even a garden. (Although we do have a lemon tree!) Anyway, just when we thought we'd push off our decision of where in the Golan to settle down for another year, our landlord called to tell us that they want to sell the house. So we won't be renewing this lease... and now we have to make a decision... </div><div><br />
</div><div>Now I need to backtrack... A few months ago I visited Avnei Eitan to pick something up. It is a beautiful settlement where lots of people have animals, and most are farmers. The yishuv had recently closed their absorption process because they were over capacity and had no new lots available. When I left, I told my husband that I think I'd like to live there if they were still accepting new families. It just resonated with me. But no klita meant I didn't have to think about it anymore b/c it's not an option...</div><div><br />
</div><div>... 2 weeks ago I started a new job as client manager for a tourism company in Avnei Eitan. Since we don't have a car at the moment, I have been working mainly from home with the idea of going in once a week via hitchhiking... I don't mind being in the office, but I find that I waste a lot of time getting back and forth and I'm more productive at home...</div><div><br />
</div><div>... the local weekly magazine has a real estate section in which there is a separate column for rentals in the settlements. Every week I look there and say - "some day a rental is going to be posted here in one of the religious places, and we're just going to go!" Last Friday a listing appeared for a rental in... Avnei Eitan. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I saw the house today. It is small. 2 bedrooms, 1 bath in 72 meters. But this little house is situated on 3000 sq. meters, and the view from the back yard is to die for. It is also being completely gutted and redone (although not expanded) so it will be brand new. My new boss is also on the yishuv board. He let me in on the scoop that there will be land available to build on within the next 2 years (the term of the lease on this house) it will not include farm land though. </div><div><br />
</div><div>What would this all mean? It would mean we have the opportunity to give our dream a try. We'd have two years to live on the yishuv, and have our homestead, we'd have the opportunity to get information on possibly renting farmland once we would decide to build, and we would know the truth about our ability to live our dream. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So what is the catch? Here's the downside of all this:</div><div>1. Living in a smaller place means no guests (although I'm sure neighbors would be willing to host family, and there are also lovely zimmers available for rent)</div><div>2. Living outside of Katzerin makes not having a car much more difficult and buying a car now would deplete our "building fund"</div><div>3. Living oustide of Katzerin means that we won't be the "absorption center" of Katzerin anymore.</div><div>4. We really like our friends here, and our neighbors. Although I can answer this concern, since Katzerin is the "city" of the Golan, we would still be in contact with our friends here and would probably see them fairly often as we would likely be travelling back and forth somewhat regularly. And Avnei Eitan is only 25 minutes from Katzerin, so going visiting is not that big a deal.</div><div><br />
</div><div>How would I handle being so limited in having guests? Even for meals, it would be tight in the space, although for most of the year eating outside is a comfortable option.</div><div>I know there are people who live on the yishuv without a car, and just as our current plan is to occasionally rent a car, we could still do that there.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Just when we were starting to feel like we could breathe we are back to feeling completely unsettled! </div><div>My faith is unwavering, I know that everything is from Hashem and on one hand I feel compelled to follow the pretty obvious signs that I'm being given, but doesn't it just seem a little too easy?? Can we really have reached that stage of closeness and connection that our needs would just be handed to us, so very neatly?</div><div><br />
</div><div>My gut is telling me to go with it, make the move and don't look back. "Keep moving forward" as another legendary dreamer once said... So what do you think??? </div><div><br />
</div><div>There's one more little experience to add to this... this afternoon as I turned all this over in my mind one of the thoughts that came to me was that in the yishuvim there are very few lights at night, so one could sit outside one's house a really see the starts. Katzerin, despite it's relative tininess compared to actual cities, still has a full array of street lights blighting all but the brightest stars and planets. But then I thought, "but come on, how really important is that anyway." About 2 hours ago, the entire city lost power, my kids were already asleep, so I went outside and sat on the bench in front of my house... and looked up at the clear, moonless, cloudless sky. I felt like I was being shown a slice of eternity. Nostalgia for summers camping in Lake George kicked in very strong, and I thought, "if we rent that house, I could do this every night." </div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-46818888157241666072010-10-28T14:26:00.000-07:002010-10-28T14:26:05.472-07:00Fresh bread and butter... heaven!The most delicious thing in the world, in my opinion, is a generous glob of butter spread on fresh-out-of-the-oven bread. Sprinkle on some sea salt, and life just got even better!<br />
<br />
So due to popular demand ;-) here is my favorite<br />
Quick and Easy Bread Recipe (that you can even make by hand!)<br />
<br />
Ingredients:<br />
4-6 cups flour (any type, I use 100% Whole Wheat and it comes out awesome!)<br />
2 Tbs yeast<br />
2 Tbs brown sugar or honey<br />
1 Tbs kosher salt<br />
3 cups warm water<br />
(for crusty bread: a cake pan of hot water)<br />
<br />
Directions:<br />
proof yeast w/ water and sugar<br />
In a large bowl combine 3 cups flour with the salt<br />
Add the bubbly yeast mixture a little at a time while stirring (I like to use the "Well" method, if you're not familiar, leave a comment!)<br />
cover and let stand for about 20 minutes<br />
Add enough flour to make a soft but sturdy dough<br />
Form into 2 round loaves, or 10-12 rolls, whatever suits your needs<br />
cover and let rise 30 minutes<br />
run a knife over the top of each loaf to allow air to escape during baking (make a <i>very</i> shallow cut)<br />
<br />
Put the bread in a cold oven and turn on to 400F/205C<br />
place a cake pan of hot water on the bottom rack of the oven for crusty bread!<br />
Bake for 40 min for loaves, 1/2 hour for rolls<br />
<br />
As soon as it's cool enough to handle, cut yourself a slice and spread some butter on it, your tastebuds will love you forever!!<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-51738832601460033292010-10-20T15:25:00.000-07:002010-10-20T15:25:08.941-07:00Little bits of silliness after bedtimeI'll spare you all the apologies for the pathetic and inexcusable hiatus since my last post in June... :-) Let's just jump back in now, shall we?<br />
<br />
Tonight I let Netanel stay up late. Yoram's working the night shift this week (damn harvest!), Odeliya and Yitzchak hadn't napped and therefore fell asleep easily and early, so I got to hang out with my little man.<br />
<br />
After hearing some great stories, seeing his latest paper airplane flight tests, and talking about the <a href="http://www.noahide.com/7laws.htm">seven noahide laws </a> (hehehe!!)... Netanel was finally in pj's and lying in my bed. I let. Netanel is still talking, he's telling me about space monkeys and swinging on rubber bands and about proper body mechanics for swinging through the jungle, and I would really like him to say shema and fall asleep. But he's so cute, and when do I ever really get to listen to him and spend time with him alone? The dishes can wait, the toys can be picked up tomorrow... so then he says that something "sucks" and I'm back in the present and this is where the fun begins...<br />
<br />
Me: Netanel, I know you've heard that word, and it's not that it's a bad word, but it is, well, you only use that word when you really mean it.<br />
Netanel: Well what <i>does</i> it mean?<br />
Me: (chuckle) It means really bad, like "על הפנים" ("al hapanim" lit. "on the face")<br />
Netanel: (a look of understanding flashes in his eyes, followed by a glint of mischief) You know what else is "al hapanim"? When someone throws a pillow and (he pulls the pillow out from under his head) it lands like this (pulling it over his face) that's al hapanim too.<br />
Me: (I get it...) and you know what else is al hapanim? This mosquito bite (pointing to his forehead)<br />
Now I take my phone off the night table and in a mock annoyed voice I say, while putting the phone on his face, "This phone is על הפנים!" now the stuffed animal, "look, meow is al hapanim!" (giggles from netanel, smiles from ear to ear)<br />
<br />
We went back and forth for a while thinking of things that would be "on the face" in more way than one. And at the end of a long week like this one, at the beginning of another long night till Yoram comes home, I was reminded, once again, of what I love about being a mother.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-52400290441534604122010-06-09T00:25:00.000-07:002010-06-09T00:25:23.777-07:00The best teacher.......experience, but it can also cause the most heartbreak. This is a beautiful and informative blog post about an OB/GYN's experiential realizations about birth.<br />
My heart is with you, Dr. Poppy! And may your words be the voice of experience for others.<br />
<br />
http://www.drpoppy.com/wordpress/?p=116<br />
<br />
It is long, but a very worthwhile read.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h2 style="color: #907c57; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.drpoppy.com/wordpress/?p=116" rel="bookmark" style="color: #907c57; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;" title="Permanent Link to My surprise VBAC">March 19th, 2010</a></h2><div class="posted" style="color: #291b0e; font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: 10px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"></div><div class="entry" style="color: #291b0e; font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">As I type, I look over at my one-week old baby zonked out in his cradle swing and am in awe at how awesome his arrival was. Instead of having my third c-section as scheduled, I went into labor on my own (first time in 5 tries) and delivered him (precipitously in fact), one hour before I was to arrive at the hospital for my surgery. I find this wonderful and quite ironic in light of the recent NIH VBAC conference in Bethesda, MD; I had just downloaded the <a href="http://consensus.nih.gov/2010/vbacstatement.htm" style="color: black; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">consensus statement </a>and was digesting it while awaiting my baby’s arrival (more on that later).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">In order to tell the story of how I ended up with a surprise VBAC, I have to start at the beginning of my long and adventurous reproductive journey. My first pregnancy ended in the first trimester with a miscarriage and heavy bleeding requiring a D&C to stop it. I was a OB/Gyn resident at the time and was surrounded by high risk OB patients every day. I trained in downtown Philadelphia where an addicted mom with no prenatal care could deliver on one end of the hall, while a high risk IVFer from the Main Line might be delivering on the other end. Although we worked side by side with midwives, we only became involved if their patients developed complications or needed a C-section. Needless to say, like most OB residents, my experience with normal, low-risk physiological birth was minimal. Being pregnant in this environment and then losing the baby certainly colored my perspective. Like any mom who loses a first baby, I was troubled with the worry that I wouldn’t be able to have another baby, so that when I did become pregnant again, I embraced the “we have to be very careful and be supervised very closely with this one” approach. I worked up until term, 36 hr shifts, 100 hr work-weeks, having to turn sideways at the operating table at the end, and then it was decided that I should be induced at 39 weeks due to gestational hypertension. There were no signs of pre-eclampsia and the pressures were not sky-high, but at the time, I fell into the “you’re term, what’s the need to take a chance” mentality and was scheduled for an induction. I went in at night for prostaglandin gel due to an unripe cervix (should have known better) followed by Pitocin the next morning. I labored all day, getting the obligatory epidural that a Pitocin induction necessitates, finally getting to complete around 8 pm. I pushed for 2 1/2 hrs, I used the bar, the sheet, everything the hospital approach has to offer…but the baby was OP and would not rotate with “all” of our maneuvers and so I received a C-section for “arrest of descent.” Happy as I was with my new son, everyone who has labored and then had surgery, knows the pain that you are in for. I wasn’t disappointed in the C-section because at that time, I was still fully entrenched in the “at least I have a healthy baby” mindset.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">Despite that experience, I always wanted to have a vaginal birth and since most university hospitals were still doing them regularly (’03), I chose a new doctor whose obstetrical/surgical skills I trusted who would support by desire for VBAC. My pressures started acting up again so I was slated for induction, although this time my cervix was riper and I went right in for Pitocin. They did one of the most inhumane things which was to artifically rupture my membranes on Pitocin in the active phase of labor. Needless to say, an epidural was imperative but I almost couldn’t sit for it due to the pain. This time I pushed for 3 hours, hard pushing, hands and knees at one point (I must have learned something from the midwives), and ended up with a vacuum extraction and a fractured coccyx, from a 7#14oz baby. He had jaundice and a cephalohematoma but hey, I got my VBAC. He today is honored to say, “I broke mom’s butt when I was born.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">Baby number 3 was an easier pregnancy although this time I added on gestational diabetes so that plus the usual spike in blood pressures brought us back to induction. Although he was my smallest baby, 7#, he still was delivered by vacuum although my butt remained intact. With baby number 4, I figured another VBAC was practically guaranteed so I didn’t resist the induction assuming the last birth meant smoother sailing now. This time they decided to start the Pitocin the night before, but instead of staying at a low dose overnight, the nurse kept coming in and increasing the dosage. I knew I wasn’t progressing because I was not in active labor, so I questioned her about the dose, reminding her that I did have a scarred uterus. She responded that everything looked fine but she would stop until morning. Morning arrived with the usual course of epidural, AROM and increasing Pitocin. When it came time to push, within 20 minutes, I knew something was wrong. Despite the epidural, I could tell he wasn’t coming down with my pushing and by the frazzled looks of everyone in the room, I knew the heart tones were dropping. I looked at my husband and told him we needed to stop. By the time they got down to the uterus in the OR, it became clear that if we wouldn’t have stopped, I would have had a uterine rupture. As it was, I had what is called a uterine window, they were able to see the baby’s hair through a very thin lower uterine segment.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">Finally, I made the connection between the induction and the narrow avoidance of catastrophe. So with baby number five, I knew I did not want another induction. Interestingly, this pregnancy was also my healthiest. I had made a concentrated effort before becoming pregnant to address my diet and treat my vitamin deficiencies, so I had no blood sugar or blood pressure problems, kept my weight gain to 15 pounds and did not have any obstetric problems other than being an advanced maternal age grandmultipara with a history of 2 c-sections! Knowing that I had never gone into spontaneous labor, I felt the safest route was to do a scheduled repeat C-section at 40 weeks. I did put it into God’s hands and had been in prayer that I was open to the baby coming forth in whatever way he was supposed to…and so I went into spontaneous labor at 2 am, the morning of surgery, got to the hospital at 4:30 and was 9 cm dilated. The staff asked me what I wanted to do and I said, “I’m going to have him!” They also offered me an epidural (too late for that) and IV pain meds (I certainly didn’t want a narced up baby), so unmedicated it was, and he was born at 5:13 AM, a beautiful, alert 7#11oz baby boy who latched right on and has been peaceful ever since. Not having to recover from an extensive surgery was a gift for which I continue to be amazed and grateful.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">Reflecting back over my journey, I see how much the field of obstetrics has managed to contribute and sometimes outright cause complications, all the while assuming they are just keeping everyone safer. And I see how much fear has overtaken the natural birthing process. I’ve said before that shows like Deliver Me, A Baby Story, and Birth Day should be renamed “Fear Factor” because they play on a woman’s often natural concerns about the birth by portraying the whole process as highly dramatic, with a woman strapped down and hooked up, by a doctor gowned and gloved like an alien visitor and often highlighting very anxious family members. Sure a woman has fear, fear that something is going to happen to her or the baby, fear of pain, fear of failure, that she just won’t be able to “do it.” Add in snarky, cynical nurses and doctors who ridicule anyone who seems to want to be in charge of her birth (after all we’re the experts)…limited labor support or assistance in the form of <a href="http://prepforbirth.com/" style="color: black; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">doulas</a> or labor coaches except in certain areas…restricted mobility, food and drink…and almost endless interventions and you have potential for trouble. We have cultivated an environment that this is normal, and somehow now some women even find value in being “risky.” My mentor, Dr. Lauren Plante, a maternal-fetal medicine specialist who had two midwife-attended home births, wrote about this in an<a href="http://vancouverdoula.blogspot.com/2005/08/off-to-scotlandill-be-climbing-dumyat.html" style="color: black; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">essay</a> entitled “Mommy, what did you do in the industrial revolution?” Meditations on the rising cesarean rate: “Although the inherent literal meaning of the high-risk pregnancy is one that entails a higher risk of a poor outcome (for mother or baby), the sub-text seems to be that high-risk equals high-value…is it the Disneyfication of a primal human endeavor, longing for the synthetic and dramatized in preference to the authentic?” In other words, do we have more regard for the Main-Liner’s IVF-achieved pregnancy who has an elective c-section over the addicted mother’s unmedicated spontaneous birth?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 25px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 25px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2em;">All of the repeat C-sections and almost extinction of VBAC, have not really prevented poor outcomes as revealed by the NIH VBAC conference. Women who have a trial of labor after a previous cesarean have a lower risk of maternal mortality compared to those who have a repeat cesarean. Although there is a higher risk of uterine rupture with trial of labor, spontaneous labor versus induction has the lowest risk. And there have been no reports of maternal mortality due to uterine rupture (we were constantly told…mother and baby could die with VBAC). Repeat C-sections are also associated with an increased risk of abnormal placental position and growth in subsequent pregnancies, which also increases risk of cesarean hysterectomy. Although there is an increased risk of perinatal mortality with trial of labor, the risk is small and not that different from a laboring woman with her first pregnancy. Issues related to medical liability are a big concern for many practitioners, a fact that could be alleviated or helped by tort reform and hospitals assuming some malpractice costs up front. In our local hospital, although the hospital allows VBACs, there is at least one doctor who simply doesn’t want to take any risk and personally won’t do VBACs. This approach is unfortunate since the overall finding of the NIH conference is that trial of labor is a safe option for many women and that women should be fully informed so that they may make the best decision for them. ACOG certainly needs to revise its mandate that anesthesia and c-section should be available immediately so that more rural hospitals can still offer VBAC to their patients without feeling they are not within standard of care. Can you imagine if I had been in a VBAC-banned hospital and been forced to have surgery at 9 cm dilated? Can you imagine how that would have increased my potential for morbidity and even mortality? Should everyone have a VBAC? No, but every woman should still have the opportunity to discuss her personal issues and whether it could be an option for her, and she should be not be forced to have surgery against her will due to a medically-unsubstantiated VBAC ban. We should continue to make efforts to reduce medically unnecessary inductions for mom and baby’s well-being, we should attempt to humanize cesareans for moms who need to have them, we should properly evaluate and assess each VBAC individually to decrease risk, and we should place natural labor and birth back into the realm of the norm, with the interventions and surgeries reserved for the truly high-risk.</div><div><br />
</div></div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-83843010593479712152010-06-08T23:49:00.001-07:002010-06-08T23:49:43.614-07:00Tzachi is walking!I'm sooo in for it!<br />
<br />
<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NChh6bVfAZY&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NChh6bVfAZY&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-5838538948810821092010-05-31T23:11:00.000-07:002010-05-31T23:13:59.906-07:00Live and let dieThis morning I went to refill Netanel's water bottle, and found little particles floating around in the bottle - mmm, kiddie backwash... Anyway... I decided that our mint plant would probably appreciate it more than me, so I went out to the porch to give dear Nana a drink. As I turned to go back inside I heard a crunch and pulled back my foot so fast I almost fell.<br />
<br />
Sure enough, I had crushed a large cockroach. Gross. I'm not a huge fan of the things, although I'm not sure why. They really are just ugly and large, not harmful... and we actually don't ever see them in the house (thank The Holy Protector Of Bugs and People!) and normally, when I have caught one outside, I just kick it into the garden and send it on it's merry way... so I was unprepared for my inadvertent murder.<br />
<br />
When I came back inside, Netanel asked me why I shrieked. So I told him. His first reaction was, "Can I see?!"<br />
<br />
We stopped to look at the poor, inverted thing with its guts splayed about it, and he said, "It's ok, Mommy, the ants will come eat it!" So I'm fully impressed at this point by my son's grasp of the "Great Circle of Life" but then it gets better.<br />
<br />
I didn't want to leave it on the porch, so I got the broom and swept it off to the pavement. And then my son sighed, "Chaval! (loosely translated as "too bad") You moved the ants' food! Look," pointing to a few ants marching across the porch, "they were already on their way!"<br />
<br />
I reassured him that the ants would find their succulent breakfast, and we made our way to preschool.<br />
<br />
I love my kids!Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-58242974888501266732010-05-31T00:04:00.000-07:002010-05-31T00:04:06.574-07:00The non-existential postThere's something brewing just under the surface of my consciousness, and it's not the coffee. It's a transformation I'm experiencing and I have been trying to express it in words for the past month to no avail.<div><br />
</div><div>Yesterday I applied myself to the task. The house was quiet, Yoram was doing work for a client, the kids were asleep, I'd had a productive day. I opened up a new post in blogger and started to write - nothing. I tried WordPress, thinking it might help to use a different format. Still nothing. So I shut off the internet and opened a document in OpenOffice, thinking that if I treat it as a random piece of writing as opposed to something I plan on sharing with the world, maybe the creative juices would start flowing... Not even a sentence emerged.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I closed my computer, and dug out a pen and a paper notebook - I abandoned the idea of a title or any purpose at all, just allowed the pen to flow along the sheets of lined paper... It did flow, which I discovered when I woke up half an hour later with ink marks on my hand and my cheek!</div><div><br />
</div><div>So I've decided to let that go for now. Apparently this new experience is not ready to have an expression outside of myself yet. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Since I am sure that you are now reading this feeling very let down and disappointed, fear not! I will not leave you thus sulking in uncertainty and anticipation! I will leave you with something much more substantial and exciting than the expression of my existential transformation could possibly achieve...</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></div><div>Recipes! </div><div><br />
</div><div>I made a really delicious salmon for Shavuot that was inspired by a recipe in Sally Fallon's book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nourishing-Traditions-Challenges-Politically-Dictocrats/dp/0967089735?ie=UTF8&tag=milka-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Nourishing Traditions</a>. I humbly submit it for your enjoyment:</div><div><br />
</div><div><u>Salmon and Scallions</u></div><div><u><br />
</u></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div><ul><li>5-7 salmon fillets</li>
<li>bunch of green onions (scallions) chopped</li>
<li>3 cloves garlic, chopped or crushed</li>
<li>1" chunk of ginger, grated</li>
<li>1/4 C soy sauce</li>
<li>1/4 C rice vinegar</li>
<li>1/4 C honey</li>
<li>juice of 1 lemon</li>
<li>salt and pepper</li>
</ul><div>Instructions:</div></div><div><ul><li>preheat oven to 350F/190C </li>
<li>lightly grease a 9x13 pan or use parchment paper</li>
<li>lay fillets, skin side down in the pan</li>
<li>sprinkle chopped scallions over salmon</li>
<li>in a bowl combine the rest of the ingredients and pour over salmon</li>
<li>cover tightly and bake 15-20 minutes until just done.</li>
<li>toasted sesame seeds (I prefer toasting them myself, just toss them in a hot skillet until they get brown - but careful not to let them burn!)</li>
</ul><div>I served this at room temperature and then again the next day (and then again a few days later!)</div><div>Leftovers keep very well in the fridge</div><div><br />
</div><div>So what are you serving this with?? </div><div>How about:</div><div><br />
</div><div><u>Sweet and Spicy Veggies w/ Rice</u></div><div><u><br />
</u></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div><ul><li>1 cup rice, cooked*</li>
<li>4-5 large carrots cut into coins</li>
<li>1 bunch spinach</li>
<li>3 Tbs butter or oil</li>
<li>1/4 C honey</li>
<li>1/2 tsp grated ginger</li>
<li>2 cloves garlic, crushed</li>
<li>salt and pepper</li>
</ul><div>Instructions:</div><div><br />
</div><div>*You can prepare any rice you like in your favorite way. My personal favorite is whole grain basmati rice which I toast with some olive oil before adding boiling water. </div><div><ul><li>wash spinach but don't dry it, just shake off excess water, set aside.</li>
<li>In a medium saucepan (larger than 2 quarts) melt butter over med heat</li>
<li>Add carrots and stir to coat</li>
<li>Cover pot and cook carrots until they just begin to soften (~3-5 min) </li>
<li>Add spinach and stir</li>
<li>Cover pot again and cook another 5 minutes (just enough for the spinach to get wilted and the carrots to soften)</li>
<li>add the rest of the ingredients and stir to coat</li>
<li>cook, covered, another 5 minutes</li>
<li>toss over rice and serve!</li>
</ul><div>The nutritional benefits of this complete meal are fantastic! The combination of the fish with the rice and lightly cooked vegetables ensure that all the nutrients: protein, calcium, iron, carotenes, Vitamins B and C (just to name a few!) are all at their highest levels of bio-availability! (that means your body will actually be able to absorb and use the nutrients in this meal when it is served together.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>בתאבון!</div><div>Enjoy!</div></div></div></div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-39903855850811025672010-05-17T12:27:00.000-07:002010-05-17T12:27:51.693-07:00Lucky/Unlucky MeThere are always leftovers of the lunches from my son's preschool. Most of the time someone knows someone who could really use free food. But occasionally it's offered up to the first parent to arrive at pick up with a car.<br />
<br />
Today I was the lucky one. Since there's no school tomorrow I decided, "what they hey? It'll make my life a little easier tomorrow." So I left with a large plastic bag of gov't issue preschool lunch. Then I got home and looked at what it was.<br />
<br />
Unlike my experience in my son's NJ school, we do not receive a menu, and although I ask Netanel what he eats for lunch, I don't always get a straight answer. So this was my first exposure to the actual food that he is being served on a daily basis. I was devastated.<br />
<br />
In one plastic container, I found greasy pasta which seemed to be seasoned with soup mix. The second container had canned green beans in a watery red sauce. I can only assume there was a protein main dish that had been finished. Based on what I was looking at for sides, I can only imagine that the main dish was something just as pitiful. Fried, breaded chicken breast? Maybe.<br />
<br />
I feel defeated! In my house we eat only whole wheat flour, we stay away from refined sugars, we eat mostly vegetables and fruit, grains and legumes. We have limited dairy intake too. Netanel's behavior is so easily affected by his food, so I try to be very vigilant over what he eats. Why should he be reprimanded for behavior problems caused by the food I give him? If I allow him the occasional treat, we discuss it before hand. I ask him, "Who's in control, Netanel? You or the sugar?" And he tells me that he is, and I tell him that if he is unable to control himself, I will restrain him, and then he can choose to eat the treat or not. Now I feel as if all my hard work is a complete waste of time!<br />
<br />
I want to take on the system, get in touch with the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Health, and start a campaign to bring healthy food to our children. I know it's been done in other places, and I think it's even being done here in some areas of the country. At the same time, I'm so reluctant to take something else onto my heavily burdened shoulders.<br />
<br />
This is Netanel's last year in Gan, but next year Odeliya will be starting, with Yitzchak not far behind. Something needs to be done about this, and soon. I am so open to ideas of how to go about this, or maybe even find other people who are already working on getting healthy, fresh food to our kids' schools who's bandwagon I can conveniently jump on.<br />
<br />
Till then, I'm going to sleep.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-74672005827898355872010-05-13T07:33:00.000-07:002010-05-13T07:33:02.226-07:00Really useful magicI know that following my last post, one might think that there is a running theme here, but really this is entirely unrelated. This is something that has been on my mind for a while, probably since my daughter was born 3 years ago. That's when I realized that to juggle motherhood, wifing (apparently, that's a word, since my spell check isn't underlining it!), running a business and staying conscious was going to require a lot more coffee!<div><br />
</div><div>Israel is a coffee culture, not like in the NY metro area (where I spent most of my life), where it's mostly "grab n' go." In Israel, it is not uncommon to see a man sitting alone on his porch in the middle of the day, one leg crossed over the other, with a glass (yes, glass) of turkish coffee in his hand. People sit and drink coffee here, whether alone or in small groups. So I fit right in! Although, I grind my coffee and brew it in a filter, and most Israelis will either drink turkish coffee or instant. But I've converted quite a few of my friends to filtered coffee since I've been here.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So now we come to my dilemma. My amazingly wonderful husband usually sets up the coffee maker before he goes to work, so that when I come downstairs, I only have to turn it on. Lately, I've decided to wait to brew my coffee until I get home from dropping Tani and Odeliya off at gan. The routine goes something like this:</div><div>I bring Yitzchak inside, he's whining because he wants to nurse. I know that if I sit down and nurse him, he'll fall asleep, but there's no guarantee that he'll let me put him down. I'd love to be able to sit and enjoy my coffe alone, but I'm also not sure I want to wait that long. After a few seconds of internal turmoil over whether to brew or not to brew, I usually decide to brew the coffee, fill my mug and then sit down to nurse.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Inevitably, a few minutes after I've drained the cup, I distractedly pick up my mug to take another sip, and I'm always disappointed to find it empty. I don't want another full cup of coffee, just a few more sips, and it's not like I'm drinking your standard 8-9oz mug, my coffee mugs are all 16 oz!</div><div><br />
</div><div>So if I had one wish, and I know this is pretty pathetic, but it would be that when I brew a cup of coffee it would magically refill itself until I am fully satisfied. Sometimes you just need a good, long cup of joe!</div>Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-20781940018445637392010-05-05T03:08:00.000-07:002010-05-05T11:46:03.448-07:00Why do they celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts?I've been sick with the flu for a week, and while I debated posting a deep spiritual awakening that I experienced... well, I figured I'd start with something a little more light-hearted. Especially since I still feel like my cerebrospinal fluid is solidifying and threatening to cause my skull to explode. (In other words, I still have a pretty bad headache.)<br />
<br />
So, on with our post. With all due respect to Ms. Rowling, who I'm sure was less concerned with historical accuracy than with relevance for her audience, but wouldn't it be more appropriate for a castle full of witches and wizards to celebrate Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox? Those were, after all, the original pagan celebrations of the seasons. But more disturbing is the fact that Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Christianity, which was responsible for eradicating anyone who was suspected of magical affiliation, i.e. our lovable young Harry and his delightful little friends, they would have all been mercilessly burned at the stake, their homes and families destroyed by the agents of the religion who's holiday they are celebrating. (sorry for the gruesome imagery, it's the CFS...;-)<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, Jewish law also deals severely with Jews who dabble in magical arenas, but since the Harry Potter books make no reference to Judaism - except maybe to insinuate that all good Jews practice dentistry... well, anyway, we're just going to keep us out of this particular conversation.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, to all you magical beings out there, you should know that I am peeved on your behalf.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-16015276553028952272010-04-18T02:22:00.000-07:002010-04-18T02:22:39.627-07:00How to Bite Noses without Getting Snot on Your TeethLast night Netanel crawled into my bed to say goodnight as I was finishing up the 4th Harry Potter book after only 4 days.<br />
He was noticeably impressed, "Mommy, you are a really speedy reader!"<br />
"Well, you have to be a speedy reader, cuz there's so so much to read!" I quoted from "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Can-Read-My-Eyes-Shut/dp/0007158513?ie=UTF8&tag=milka-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">I Can Read with my Eyes Shut" by Dr. Suess.</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=milka-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0007158513" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
"But how am I going to ever be a speedy reader?" The light waning ever so slightly from his impish grin.<br />
"Actually, the only way to become a speedy reader is to start out being a veeeerry slooooow reeeaaader.That's how I got to read so fast. When I was your age, I felt the same way."<br />
And then we started quoting the Dr. Seuss book again. "And when I keep them open/ I can read with much more speed./ You have to be a speedy reader/ 'cause there's so so much to read."<br />
And we were giggling, and then he said, "Like how to bite noses without getting snot on your teeth!"<br />
<br />
And then we were more than giggling, we were laughing our veritable tushies off!<br />
"Where did you hear of that one?" Yoram asked, recovering his breath.<br />
"No, Abba, I'm going to write it." Netanel answered evenly, with full confidence.<br />
<br />
Yes you will, my sweet one. One day soon, you will.Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1607913654504701302.post-24658683839040123112010-04-14T14:29:00.000-07:002010-04-14T14:29:59.048-07:00Channeling Harry ChapinYou all remember this song, right?<br />
<br />
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<br />
today I watched Netanel take a blank piece of paper and turn it into something that made me cry. First he took a blue crayon and started making a 1 inch wide slab of sky at the top of the page and I knew that the orange triangle of sunshine in the corner would be next, followed by a mirrored green slab at the bottom and some lollipop flowers. I had to do something quck! "Oh! is that blue water?"<br />
He didn't skip a beat, flipped the page over and said, "yes!"<br />
Then there were waves and green seaweed floating and finally, inevitably, the orange glowing triangle in the corner. "What's that?" I asked<br />
"The sun."<br />
"Oh, what other colors are in sun?"<br />
He reached for yellow, and red, and we even put some dark blue around the edge and then some more red and orange...<br />
What happened to my Tani and his free expression?! Why have we not learned how to educate our children without extinguishing their creative spirit? Why is it impossible to differentiate between the paintings and drawings of any child in a kindergarten class?<br />
<br />
I want a different life for my children than the one I have. A life where anything is possible, where creativity is rewarded and linear analytical thinking is not the only way to solve a problem.<br />
<br />
One morning I watched him do a matching activity with the teacher. He had a card with 6 fish tails on it and you had to find the fish that matched the tails. He took in all six images and began pulling matches out of the box, but the teacher made him put them back and go in order. I wanted to cry. He does not have to do them in order! He does not have to change the way he naturally solves that problem! I'm not saying that we shouldn't offer children other ways of finding solutions, but we have to encourage their own natural abilities and ways of thinking.<br />
<br />
Because there are so many colors in the rainbow! But who sees them anymore? How can anyone fix the problems with education when we are all products of the education system we are seeking to change?Ayelethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12399589967341637693noreply@blogger.com0