Today I ran into a good friend at the baby group, who happened to be "job coaching" one of the Down's Syndrome girls she works with in sherut leumi in cooking in the Eliya kitchen. (Volunteering to help someone volunteer!) We spoke very briefly about Hallel and her sherut leumi job, and she said something that really stuck with me: "You should know, this really is a world of chesed."

Chesed is most often translated as "lovingkindness", because simply "love" or "kindness" cannot express everything chesed is. Chesed is the highest worldly Divine quality; it is the Divine love and goodness we emulate when we give without reward, it is the constant giving of God, the love pouring down on us and breathing life into us.

As I walked back towards the shopping center where I had parked, for the first time in a while, I felt that chesed in the world... in the sun that shone through the leaves, in the hardness of the sidewalk, in the sweet, fresh breeze of a Jerusalem autumn. I felt like the sun was shining directly at me, for me, through me. It is a feeling I yearn for, the recognition of something I know in my head but many times have a hard time really feeling. Not just that the world is made of Divine energy, Divine light, Divine love... but that it is for you, personally, specifically you.

And people really are good. Beautiful, amazing creatures, balancing chesed and gevurah (justice), the Divine and the mundane. We are here to bring up the sparks, to connect the dark and the light, and giving and receiving are a balance and you have to receive also if you really want to give...

And I realized, pushing that stroller, I am one of the happiest people in the world. I am doing what I want. I am doing it with all my heart. I am taking the gifts that God gave me and doing with them what I feel is right. It's hard and I'm not always sure of myself, but underneath the ups and downs, I am truly happy.

Thanks, Keren.

Because things happen so fast around here and most of them have been on the annoying scale, I'm leaving the details for my family e-mail updates. The highlights are that Hallel's intraocular pressure has been too high and not responding to treatment; we are trying another type of eye drop, and if it doesn't work we will see an expert on glaucoma in Haifa and decide what to do next. It may involve more surgery. We know for certain that another operation is not too far away because he's cross-eyed and they want to fix that to help him develop his vision properly. So no rest for the weary for the time being.

I have been trying, as you may have noticed, to be positive about the whole thing, but I'm not always successful. I'm going to continue the pattern of my past few entries and list some things have helped me cope--more for myself than for you, so I can refer back to them every once in a while:

Self-validation: I know that what I'm going through is objectively very difficult and I am proud of myself for coping with it. Sometimes you need to face the dark, emotional, fearful part of you and accept it as part of yourself, instead of constantly writing fears and thoughts off as irrational. Recognizing unhelpful thought patterns is important, but those thoughts still affect you even when you put them in proportion, and sometimes you just have to accept that they are there, try to have a conversation with them and see why they are trying to get your attention. It's part of accepting yourself as a whole and loving yourself.

Perspective: This is the counterbalance to the first item. Yes, it's difficult, but every parent goes through difficulties raising a child, and many of those difficulties are a lot harder to define and "cure". I didn't have to deal with colic, or going back to work after three months. Difficulty is an inherent quality of parenthood, and I knew that long before I got pregnant. It also helps to realize that with all the problems we're having now, things WILL eventually calm down, this too SHALL pass, and I'll look back on these days and be proud of how I managed to cope before things leveled out.

One day at a time: I feel I have been able to use this tool more effectively than ever recently. Each day stands on its own, and my goal is to accomplish the tasks of that particular day. When I have nothing to do but sit around and think about the things I have to do, I set one or two goals--clean the kitchen floor, make this phone call--and congratulate myself when I complete most or all of the tasks on my list.

Taking care of myself: I did a number of things because I knew how important this was. I signed up for the healing course. I went through with the physical therapy for my wrist even though the tendonitis isn't debilitating, and with other minor medical checkups and procedures (seeing a dermatologist, upper abdominal ultrasound to check on my gallbladder, flu shot) 3) Started making sure to exercise at least three times a week; have been doing yoga and bellydancing 4) The most important: when I feel overwhelmed, I let people take care of and help me. I felt I needed to process my feelings and wasn't getting a chance--I made sure to talk about it in the support group at Eliya. I considered seeing a psychologist for a few sessions but I'm holding off because I think the support group is enough for now. I let myself get frustrated on a horrible confusing day. I eat chocolate and indulge my obsessions in moderation: reading birth stories and being active on a natural birth forum... Yesterday I baked bread and made a lentil-tomato stew, and today when eating leftovers I totally didn't hold back on the cream. (Mmmmmmmm :D) That's my next step in my self-care program: making sure I stay well-fed.

Faith: My physical therapist put it flatteringly: "You must be very special people for God to have chosen you out of the 1:10,000 chance of this happening." God does not give us a challenge we are incapable of overcoming, I really believe that. This is not the hardest thing I have ever faced, because I KNOW I have all the tools to deal with it. I am incredibly blessed with a very supportive family, all the material means I could want or need, and a lot of patience, intelligence and understanding. I live in a country with socialized health care and tons of charity organizations. I was thinking about it this past Shabbat with my high school friends and two other babies, and I realized: how lucky that we are the ones this happened to! My friends are in school, struggling to get by, dealing with other problems. I have the time, the money, the car... everything one would need to make this easier and make it work. On a more spiritual level, I think Eitan and I are deeply caring and devoted parents, who are smart enough to learn everything possible about our son's condition and how to help him. In a way I feel honored that God and Hallel chose us. In Judaism we believe that the soul chooses the situation into which it will incarnate: its parents, its body, its living situation. I know that God and Hallel both saw and trusted and knew that we were the best pair for the job. I can't wait to meet the souls that choose Hallel as an older brother.

And of course, focusing on the positive, which is why I'm not writing long ranting entries about the common sense you'd expect to see in world-renowned ophthalmologists and the roof that dearly wants us to enjoy the rain from the comfort of our bathroom, etc. I'm not ignoring the problems, but I'm trying not to linger on them either.

If you've read this far, I hope these tools can help you in your daily coping as well.

Dear Mrs. Levy,

We at the Courts on High have deemed it necessary to send you the enclosed list of prayers we have received from you over the past few years. Please note that the enclosed list is only a representative sample, randomly selected; all the prayers, thought and especially spoken, have been received and carefully considered.

Next to the prayers for which a response is pending for reasons we cannot yet share with you, we have marked a minus (-). Next to prayers that have been answered, we have marked a plus (+).

Thank you for your attention. We hope to continue to hear from you for many years to come.

Yours sincerely,

The Courts on High
Under the Supervision of the Holy One, Blessed Be He
(Aren't we all?)

( A Representative List )


P.S. You may note that His record is pretty darn good.
P.P.S. Just saying.

So it's been kinda hard to bring myself to post. Because every time I set out on something it turns into an irritated (and irritating) rant of self-pity, more or less poetic. Nothing is particularly wrong, it's just the usual swimming upstream and resulting exhaustion, and I'm still feeling unsupported but I'm realizing that it's my own fault and if I want friends in my life I have to work to keep them there. Which I'd be perfectly willing to do if it didn't require using that hateful device we call a telephone.

I want to focus on the positive in this post. Hallel is doing great. I've noticed a huge improvement in his vision and coordination in the past few weeks. He can see dimmer colors and reaches for toys immediately, like a three-month old is supposed to be able to do. He holds his head up more easily and can spend longer amounts of time on his tummy.

He had an appointment with the pediatrician yesterday to check his ears and get a referral for the ABR, an objective hearing test. Because of course the behavioral tests were inconclusive. Today he was examined by a developmental specialist, who told us what we already knew: aside from the vision, he is developing beautifully, except for some motor skills he's a little behind on. So we'll be taking him in for physical therapy on Tuesdays. Thursday is baby group and week-after post-op checkup. The pressure in his right eye is still too high and we're trying to lower it with drops. This may mean having to take him in to check the pressure under general anesthesia another few times in the near future. Along with the ABR, which requires sedation in a baby his age, we're not going to suffer from hospital withdrawal for a long time. He's at high risk for glaucoma because of the cataracts, so this is going to be a routine thing, especially when he's old enough to be freaked out by someone touching a machine to his eyeball. He has a bleed in his eye from the operation, but it's superficial and looks a lot worse than it is.

I've been bellydancing for exercise. And fun. I wanted to take a class but when I realized how busy I'd be this year I decided DVDs would have to do. Luckily for me I'm athletic and pick this stuff up very easily. I've heard it's highly recommend for postpartum fitness specifically because of the muscles it focuses on, and I think it's great for women in general, physically and mentally. Ideally I'd like to do it three times a week and yoga or some other kind of meditation on the days in between... Today I got some jangly scarves to tie around my waist, and I even found a cheap costume but the skirt looked waaayyy to small and they didn't seem to have sizes for those of us who have *ahem* what to shimmy. Ah well. It's not like I'm performing...

My healing course starts Sunday. I'm looking forward to it. :) I think it'll do me a lot of good. Maybe I can get some help with this stupid tendonitis I've had for the past six months... I'm willing to be the class guinea pig!

Surgery went fine.

For reasons we have yet to determine, instead of bringing him back out straight into our arms and for monitoring in the day surgery unit, they came out trailing an oxygen tank, holding him up to the mask, and telling us politely that they'd rather he stay with them for the moment, we're going to the general recovery room. They were polite but their nonchalance was maddening. Why can I not hold my screaming child? What's different about this time? Why is he on oxygen?

And then they asked us to wait IN THE DOORWAY of the recovery room while they "treated" him. The ophthalmologist later explained that she had wanted to make sure his oxygen saturation was 100%. Why did we have to wait outside? It's not like they needed privacy, the recovery room was huge with at least 20 beds and there were people all over it. Would he explode with us nearby? Eitan of course went in there and got them to call security by demanding answers. "Security" turned out to be an old bearded white guy who asked us pleasantly what was going on and went on his merry way when he got my tearful "MY BABY IS IN THERE".

After a few minutes they told us we could come and we took him and I nursed him and we all calmed down.

While we were waiting by the OR, there was a guy waiting to go in for surgery who was trying to joke around with the nurses, and they were being really nasty about it. We had the same problem with them last time when Eitan make a lighthearted remark to a nurse and got a snappy response. It's like they think they are so important that everything they do is gravely serious and must be treated as such. They take any form of lightheartedness as a personal assault to their dignity.

Why are hospitals so evil?

Seriously. I understand that there are protocols that are meant to protect the patients, but I fail to understand the medical benefits of separating a screaming baby from his mother for a few minutes--not even letting her stand nearby--while his oxygen levels are checked. (I also have a serious problem with the default Israeli protocol of separating mothers from their babies after birth. A child is supposed to spend his first few days of life screaming in a room full of other screaming babies while nurses tend to him on their own schedules, and being with his mother only during designated hours? How inhumane can you get?) Hadassah Ein-Kerem is supposed to be one of the friendlier ones, too. They are one of the few in the country that offer the option of "rooming in" with the baby after birth and allowing the mother and baby to stay together from birth until they are released.

Our relatively pleasant experiences with the doctors and the ER there almost had me wondering if giving birth there wouldn't be so bad after all, especially since after my natural and lightning quick first birth, I'm unlikely to encounter unnecessary medical interventions. And because of "the thing that got missed" I wondered if maybe it is best to just have the newborn checked out at the hospital. But now I am even more clear on why I hope never to give birth at a hospital. (I still might "turn myself in" for postpartum checking next time. But I am told even hospitals don't always do the red reflex test at birth.) Holding power struggles with self-important nurses is not what I need to be doing during labor. I'm willing to submit to their protocols, stupid and inhumane as they may be, when they are actually doing something to heal my son, but not when they'd just be getting in the way of me giving birth. And I am certainly not willing to let them pretend my healthy newborn baby is their property for the first few days of his or her life. Babies are not sick on mere account of being recently born and do not need specialized medical attention, they need their mothers.

I took a course in medical clowning in 11th grade. I remember observing during our "internship" that when the patient was a baby, the patient was really the parent. I hadn't realized how right Patch Adams is about hospital environments. Hospital staff members are so wrapped up in protocol and their own egos that they forget about the patients.

I hope you never have to confirm that statement with your own experience.

Soooooooo...

Disappointing news from the eye clinic today. The pressure in Hallel's right eye, from what they could measure with the portable device, is too high. We're treating with drops and will need to check the pressure properly, a.k.a. under general anesthesia. As for his left eye, the cataract appears to be growing back a little; a complication that's apparently pretty common especially for babies this young. We'll need to operate again to remove the membrane and improve his visual field.

Both procedures are set to take place next Thursday. Luckily we get to avoid the pleasure of the pre-op checkup this time. Not sure why this time is different from the other times, but I'm not complaining.

Honestly it's not a big deal. I knew we'd have to put him under again for the eye pressure checkup, so whatever they do while he's under doesn't make much of a difference to me... except for the bazillion drops we're going to have to start all over again, and the time without his contact lenses to let the eye heal. I'm glad to know that the reduced vision in his left eye is a technical issue and not neurological.

Hey! He just rolled from back to front!!!

Speaking of which, his doctor said today that he's pretty optimistic about Hallel because his other development seems to be right on target. The only thing that's lagging a little is his head control while on his tummy. He was specially happy to see how much Hallel uses his hands and grabs at stuff. He's been babbling, squealing, shrieking, blowing raspberries and spit bubbles, drooling and giggling. On Simchat Torah he had his first real laugh. He was a little confused by it--why is my diaphragm spasming?! Am I choking?!--but eventually he figured out that he was happy and smiled his gorgeous smile and all in all it was the most joyous thing I've ever seen. :) He has almost discovered his feet, too.

Bedtime. The kid has passed out after his glorious feat of the day.

Babies are amazing.

We spent Shabbat/chag at home in our beautiful Succah that Eitan built from scratch. :) We had the evening meal with a South African family from our yishuv whose eldest daughter has eye problems far worse and more complicated than Hallel's. They had been treated by the same people dealing with us and it was a good "validating" feeling to hear how they shared the same impressions about them--they do an excellent job, but they don't tell you ANYTHING. They said the most important thing, they've found, is to be in touch with other parents who are going through or who have gone through the same thing, for support and information.

For lunch we made a feast, and that is why this is a Jewish Housewife Entry! I'm very excited because I made most of it and it was way yummy :D

We had:

( Moroccan-Style Carrot Salad )

( Red Bell Pepper Salad )

( Eggplants in Tehina and Lemon Juice )

( Sweet Spaghetti Squash )

-->Store-bought gefilte fish and chrain, because only fanatics bother to make the stuff at home...

-->Store-bought challah, because I didn't have time to bake it...

And the creme de la creme:

( Peppery Spinach in Nutmeg Cream )

Moadim L'Simcha!

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for losing my temper. Pregnancy or postpartum hormones are no excuse. I'm sorry for blaming you for my loneliness or sadness or expecting you to know exactly what to say at any given moment. I'm sorry for being quick to judge your words or actions. I'm sorry for expressing myself harshly or rolling my eyes behind your back. I really do respect you.

I'm sorry for taking you for granted, or not trusting you to come through for me. I'm sorry for relying on you when you had too much on your plate.

I'm sorry for not being in touch, or assuming you didn't want to be.

I'm sorry I offended you. I really didn't mean to.

I'm sorry for not trusting You, for being afraid to be grateful, and not trying hard enough to break through the walls of separation and return to You. For making excuses and slacking off and not being brave enough to question, shatter through my doubts, and emerge closer to You than before.

Forgive me for being less than I can be and not always doing my best. I will keep trying. Every year brings new challenges and opportunities. I hope I have learned what I can from this year and will be open to the new experiences of this coming year.

Gmar chatima tova to all of you, and an easy and meaningful fast.

*sigh*

So yesterday we saw the optometrist. She ordered Hallel some hard lenses. In the process of trying out lenses, the head of the pediatric ophthalmology clinic looked at him and commented on his nystagmus (involuntary eye movement). I asked if she thought it would remain. She said yes. Might be less pronounced, but he'll have it the rest of his life.

They said his vision would be normal. I don't think having your eyes jerk around involuntarily counts as normal. I thought it was because of the poor muscle control due to lack of stimulation and would clear up as he learns to focus. I guess not. Why the hell didn't they tell me?

They put me in touch with Eliya, a non-profit organization for blind and visually impaired children, to participate in a visual therapy/support group for parents and babies with vision problems. I have to open a case file with Welfare now, meet with a social worker and stuff. They'll send us a vision teacher to teach us how to help him develop his vision. We'll probably get money from National Insurance, if only to help pay for the glasses and lenses. It feels weird to be the recipient of these types of services. I used to be on the other side, with the non-prof, typing up sob stories about NI and fighting for disability percentages, with Welfare, discussing the needs of kids with sad family stories. I never wanted to be on this side. Who does?

Now I'm the parent of a visually impaired kid.

The chances of congenital cataracts are 10,000 to one. (Somewhere else I read 10,000:3. But still.) To put this in perspective, chances of cord prolapse during labor is 200:1, and it's considered an extremely rare complication. Most cases of congenital cataracts are genetic, caused by an intrauterine disease, or drug or alcohol abuse. And these statistics are talking about unilateral ones, not bilateral ones, and not necessarily as bad as his were. How did we end up with this?

For a few seconds I've toyed with the "Why me?" Almost immediately I answer "Because I am capable of dealing with this and I will give him the best care and future possible. God knows that. He trusts me. I trust Him to help me." And really, there are things far more common that are much worse. I didn't do the prenatal tests for Down's Syndrome or other types of problems, just the organ scan. Because I knew the results wouldn't change anything. I asked myself then, "If my kid turns out to be Down's/retarded/deformed, will that be okay with me?" My answer was a resounding "yes".

This is fine with me. Better this than those other things. He'll be a normal, functioning kid with almost normal vision. And a gorgeous one at that. I'm ready for it. I just need to work myself out of the mommy-guilt and get in action.

Sometimes I have stupid, unproductive thoughts, blaming myself in some twisted spiritual way. I didn't pray enough. I did something wrong. But I don't believe God works that way. I don't believe in punishment. I believe in balance, kindness, justice. Consequences and opportunities. This is an opportunity. My whole family will be stronger and better for it.

The modern world tries to dump responsibility on you too. It's because I took an Advil, had a sip of wine, or ate Camembert or salami during pregnancy. It's because I let him sleep on his stomach. Because we co-sleep. Because he wasn't born in a hospital. They try to make you think you're in control, you're responsible. You aren't. Things happen. God has a plan. Just because you don't know what it is, doesn't mean it's not there, and doesn't mean it's not for the best. All you can do is your best.

We can all take a lesson or two on focusing our vision.

It is with a heavy heart that I pronounce the Levy Household gDiaper experiment a fail. :(

The bigger pads don't flush as easily, and they were too much for our water-saving Israeli plumbing to handle. Huge backup. Thank God our landlord is a brave soul who knows a thing or two about plumbing.

We can still just toss them, they're plastic-free, but honestly it doesn't help, because you toss them IN a plastic bag that's sealed, so they really don't get enough oxygen to break down.

:(

I was just getting used to the lack of diaper smell in the house...

That I stole reluctantly from mnfaure.

Give me the title of a story I’ve never written, and feedback telling me what you liked best about it, and I will tell you any of: the first sentence, the last sentence, the thing that made me want to write it, the biggest problem I had while writing it, why it almost never got submitted to magazines, the scene that hit the cutting room floor but that I wish I’d been able to salvage, or something else that I want readers to know.

Let the madness begin.

Welcome to 5770. What an awesome year it's going to be. :)

We spent the holiday in Nachlaot in Jerusalem. It was my first Rosh Hashana as a mother. I knew it would be totally different from usual. Like, sitting in synagogue from 7 till 3? Hahaha not happening. The first day was hard because I felt kind of torn and neither-here-nor-there. It didn't help that there is very little space at Raz's minyan (a service that is too beautiful and heartfelt to miss) and because I arrived relatively late there was nowhere for me to sit. (I know, mother with young baby. You know how many of those there were?! I think the single non-mommies deserve the seats more anyway, 'cause they're the ones who are actually going to sit there through the services...) I had to leave in the middle of what was once my favorite part of the service--U'Netana Tokef--because I just had to get out of there. I was frustrated for not even coming close to the spiritual place I usually reach from these services.

We had a picnic in the park for lunch with a bunch of our Bat Ayin hippie friends. It was a vegetarian and healthy Rosh Hashana, and of course I felt so much better for it (I've been having a return of gastrointestinal stuff, probably reflux again. Blarrgh). It started raining a little while we were out there. It was amazing. First real rain of the year on Rosh Hashana.

That night we had dinner with some more post-Bat Ayin hippies. At the end of the meal we started talking about homebirth, and I realized that for the first time I was in the room with two other women who had done what I did. (One had a post-twin VBAC at home, and one gave birth at my midwife's birth cabins.) It is such a relief to talk to people who have done it, who don't think I'm crazy and who agree that natural birth is so much better than "managed". I don't have any close friends who share that.

One of the women asked what we think we need to work on this year. I said that I think I need to stop apologizing. Apologizing for being a stay-at-home mom; for quitting college; for having a nice apartment; for the natural birth stuff; for gDiapers. This is my life, I love my life, I believe in my path, I am grateful to God for all the gifts He gave me, and I have nothing to apologize for.

The second day I said to heck with it. My job is not to tear my heart out in prayer at synagogue this year. My job is to be a mommy. So I prayed the morning prayers briefly on my own, and went to hear the shofar at a closer synagogue with my hostess and her son. To my surprise, it shattered me open. Suddenly I felt like I HAD to pray more. I went back to her house to pick up my Mahzor (which I had left accidentally), wondering if maybe I should head over to Raz's minyan anyway. And then it started raining like crazy. My only keeping-Hallel-dry option was the stroller, but if you've ever been to Nachlaot, you know that a stroller is far from ideal. Slippery stones and tons of stairs. So Hashem wanted me to pray on my own? All right.

It was a wonderful prayer. Instead of the shofar during the service, I screamed softly. That's what the shofar is, really... the sound of a scream, the sound of our souls crying out to God. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, I was just cracked open, and the tears just flowed and flowed. And the rain fell and fell.

May there be an abundance of blessing, shefa brachot, this coming year; lots of rain, lots of joy, and closer connection to the Eternal.

I must post a public tip of the hat to Shelly (journeytoernie), who, at 6:55 pm yesterday evening, gave birth at home, in a completely natural VBAC, to an 11.5lb (5.220 kg) baby boy.

Shelly, you are inspiration to us all!!!!!!!!!!!

A conclusion I reached from a conversation with Abi, who has been basically bedridden for six weeks from a condition that has yet to be confirmed or treated:

Being there for your friends does not mean caring about them. It does not mean reading their blog, Twitter or Facebook updates, being relieved and sending a two-word comment that any person on his/her friendslist would have left, even the guy in Venezuela who she has never actually met face-to-face. It does not mean thinking of them.

It doesn't mean jumping at every sign of distress, either. It doesn't always have to mean calls at 3 a.m., dropping every obligation you have to bring them chocolate, letting them sleep in your living room for a month or spending every free hour at their miserable sides.

It means picking up the g*****n phone and letting them know you are thinking about them. That you understand that what they are going through is terrible and hard. That you wish you could do more. Not a Wall-to-Wall. Not an LJ comment. A phone call. An e-card. A text message. An e-mail. Something personal, not a response to a post from them, something of your own initiative. Because you care. Because you're thinking of them. Because they need to know about it.

Yeah, sometimes they're okay. You know they've got it together. You know they've got a parent/partner/sibling who is there for them and helping them through. That doesn't mean they don't need you.

I ran into a friend yesterday from Emunah. She said I should bring Hallel to visit because everyone was so worried about him. Really? I had no idea they actually talked about it amongst themselves. I didn't know how much they knew and were waiting to hear from me. And the response from them was the warmest and most concerned I got from any group of friends--four of them actually bothered to respond to my e-mail. These are not friends I've known since teenagerhood or childhood. I met them all of two years ago and never got very close to any of them.

I have no idea about some of you out there, those of you I have been closer to than that. I have no idea you have read, registered, been worried, wanted to hear what was happening. I have no idea you knew what I was going through. I have no idea you cared. So I felt unsupported. As if you didn't think it was worth your time to find out how I was really feeling and wish me luck personally. Alone.

Billy Joel wasn't just talking about love, guys.

And if you happen to be a friend of Abi's, for God's sake, give her a call.

So it turns out that the reason we got such bad care yesterday was that those guys were standing in for the usual doctors, who are in Barcelona.

Figures.

GOD have I had an annoying morning.

I got to the hospital a little late and took a number like a good girl, only to discover that they were ignoring the numbers today, it was every man for himself. So I got signed in, up to the eye clinic and waited around a bunch. The doctor who checked him today was one I hadn't met before, less friendly and even less informative than the others.

Allow me to interrupt this story with another story about how a little information can go a long way. On Tuesday I was bathing Hallel and I noticed a little bubble floating around in the iris of the eye that was just operated on. Freaked me out. No one had told us what to look out for, but a bubble didn't seem like a good thing. It was too late to get in touch with his doctors, so we took him to the emergency room at Hadassah. Within the hour we had him examined, were told it's just an air bubble that's normal after surgery and would go away on its own, and were sent home.

Thank God for much ado about nothings. We called the surgeon the next day and she said they actually inject air into the eye (probably to help keep its shape after removing the lens), and the bubble was in the other eye too, we just didn't notice. Hmm, thanks for telling us that AFTER we rushed him to the emergency room in a panic.

Anyway: so this doctor scolded me for Hallel's glasses being dirty (yeah man, try keeping YOUR three-month-old's glasses clean for more than two minutes, especially when you're giving him WHITE eye drops every two hours), mumbled about no one having written about the prescription for drops to relieve eye pressure, and pronounced Hallel's eyes healthy and good... and therefore we may lower the steroids to six times a day. Woo.

I went to the secretary to make an appointment for a month from now, and for Wednesday to fit Hallel with contacts. Except that the contacts thing isn't her job, I'll need to talk to Ilana on Wednesday. Um, but we need an appointment on Wednesday. Says who? Dr. Anteby, who else? Why didn't you make it last week? (I'm sorry, my superpowers include only milk production at this point in time. When I master advanced mother-powers such as mind reading and being in two places at once I'll let you know.) Because Dr. Anteby said we'd make it today. Grumble grumble, here, come at 9:30. Is the appointment long? Yes, very. Uh... I have a dermatologist appointment that day at noon... Tough.

Who cares if I have cancer, my kid needs contact lenses.

(God forbid. It's probably nothing. But these are the kinds of things you really need to catch early. You know?)

Now we're trying to figure out how to orchestrate this so I don't postpone my appointment or his. It's really insane.

Still huffing, I went down to the mall at the entrance and bought a cup of fruit salad with yogurt and granola. I needed it. The parking payment machine wasn't working, so a technician needed to come down and take our money manually.

A frustrating drive later, including an Arab taxi driving in my lane in the opposite direction on an empty road, I was home. Now I have to make appointments for physical therapy for my four-month-long tendinitis, a social worker to figure out what's going to happen with Hallel and national insurance, our family doctor to follow up on my pregnancy ailments of reflux and anemia, and figure out what to do about the dermatologist.

Sigh.

It drizzled today on my way to the hospital. Promise-rain. At least Someone knows how to help me feel like I'm not alone.

Hallel got his second bandage off today. As I was picking him up earlier, he stopped everything he was doing and stared right at me. My heart leapt. It was as if he were just born again. Here we were, mother and baby, gazing into each other's eyes for the first time. I smiled at him. He smiled back.

Blessed are You, Hashem, our God, Master of the Universe, who opens the eyes of the blind. (--the Morning Blessings)

Hallel's first surgery is tomorrow at 8:30am. He'll be fasting from 4:30am, which basically means it's gonna be a loooong day. (Luckily we're allowed to give him water or sweetened tea until 6:30.)

Again, your prayers and positive energies are appreciated.

הַלל בן דניאלה נעמי

ניתוח מוצלח, רפואה שלימה
ושיתקיים בו "ומאופל ומחושך
עיני עיוורים תיראנה"
(ישעיהו כ"ט י"ח)

Hallel, son of Daniella Naomi

A successful surgery, a full recovery,
and may the verse be fulfilled with him: "And from gloom and from darkness
The eyes of the blind shall see"
(Isiah 29:18)

The lady at the HMO office called to yell at me that today is the last day they can give us a commitment to pay for Hallel's surgery and why didn't I give them the paperwork?

Because, lady, the doctor told us to do so after the office was closed on Monday, so the only opportunity I had for it was the following morning when we came in for the blood tests. Do you really expect me to remember some random document in my purse while my child is bleeding in five places and screaming his head off?

/rant

We're doing all right. Rachel extended her stay and we rented a car to get us to and from appointments for the next month. The first surgery is next Monday, the next the following Monday. Your prayers and positive thoughts are appreciated: Hallel ben Daniella Naomi.

I've pretty much decided to do the therapeutic touch course. It'll be twice a week--therapeutic touch (which I will from now on refer to as "healing", because it's the same thing but shorter) on Sunday evenings and anatomy and physiology on Wednesday mornings--but the timing works out great and they have a babysitter on the premises who takes 15 shekels an hour, and I'm allowed to step out to nurse if need be. If nothing else, it'll be something to keep me busy and interacting with adults. And hey... I think I'll really enjoy it.

Meme from Shelly. Comment with substance and ask, and I will give you five words to write about on your blog.

( My Words )

It's congenital cataracts. Bad ones. My son is blind as a bat.

Well, not exactly. He can see light, you can tell because he reacts strongly to a camera flash. But beyond that, nada.

They need to operate very soon so it doesn't start impeding on his development. We have an appointment for an operation on one eye next Monday, and the next eye the following Monday. They're trying to see if they can slip us in this Thursday.

I can't believe I've raised a child for three months without knowing he can't see. I feel so guilty for being flippant about the doctor not being able to do the RR exam. It's not really my fault; the Tipat Chalav nurses said he was tracking the day before we saw the doctor, so that's what he told him, and he said if that's the case there's not much to worry about. It's no one's fault. And it's going to be fine, it's a reversible condition and really this is the best timing possible because we would have had to cancel our trip to the USA and it's a window of time in which we'll be able to avoid an extra surgery (hopefully). But I feel horrible. And he'll have glasses all his life. And I'm going to spend the next few weeks in and out of the hospital, and then be taking him to eye doctors frequently throughout his childhood.

It's ridiculous. They can't figure out how it happened. No one has cataracts in either family and it's usually genetic. There were no complications in pregnancy at all. We have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow to try and do some tests and see if we can find out what caused it.

My dad was right. Dammit.