Empowered

I am feeling good.
I am feeling powerful, peaceful, present, strong.
Funny how even writing this I resist - ever so slightly - in typing the word "strong."
I try out in my mind the possibility of writing "getting stronger every day" instead of just "strong."
Why not strong?

Today I left the house for most of the day and toodled around Jerusalem with a friend and her son.
We went out to lunch at Beit Ticho, sitting in the sunshine in spite of the cold.
December in Jerusalem - with global warming at play, I'm sure - really hasn't been very cold.
It felt so good to get out, to get off the couch, away from the computer.
Yesterday I handed in my first psychology assignment in over a month.
I got 100%, along with some very amusing comments from my quirky teacher in Shanghai.

Tomorrow I am going back to the nursing home to visit my friend Marcelle whom I haven't seen since before I got shingles.
Then I'm getting a haircut.
It feels good to be up and at 'em again.
To feel vital, alive, strong.
I did yoga two days in a row and that felt amazing too.

About 4 months into my time here in Israel, I told a very special and wise friend that I was finally feeling okay and settled here, at peace with being here, starting to enjoy it a little.
He said to me that at some point, I would probably go through another hard period, with an even more profound sense of wellness and peace afterwards.
He wrote this about a month before I got shingles, and he was right.
Here I am, on the other end of that other hard period, where I really thought, "Now this is ridiculous - does it really have to be this hard here for me?"
And I'm even better now than I was after the first adjustment.

They say it takes 6 months to really adjust to a new place...

This afternoon a little friend of Dahlia's from the gan came to our house for a playdate.
They had a great time, and when her mom came to get her she invited Dahlia to their house tomorrow.
When in conversation I told her that we were only here for a year, she was so surprised and disappointed that our girls wouldn't continue school together.
In that moment, I could see the possibility of getting used to life here.
I had before me a woman who could become a real friend - someone like me, like the people I am friends with.

I said to Dave, "You really can make a life anywhere."
Like Cincinnati... I know it'll happen there too.
I have to remember to stay open once we get there, so I don't have to close up and then chip myself open again.
(I plan on having NO jackhammers across the street to do the work!)
There is so much possibility in this time in our lives.
This entire Israeli adventure is the opening of our possibility; possibility is the reason we are here.

I have a very special friend who painted her entire body green when she was in the third trimester of her pregnancy a few years ago.
Her husband photographed her in nature, in all her green glory.
Big belly and big boobs and peaceful, powerful face, all green.
She birthed her incredible son at home, fully empowered, breathing, breathing, breathing.
She is my hero, a reflection of the possibility of empowered pregnancy and birth.

She sent me these photos, and a prayer about breath for my labor.
So I thought to myself, "Why not?"
Why not have an empowered pregnancy, and an empowered birth?
Just because I am here, far away from my mama world of support,; just because it's been a bit of a challenging pregnancy so far; why can't I be empowered?
After all, I am growing and birthing a child in Jerusalem - the city where I started my own life - and I am doing it in spite of being far away from home.

Isn't that powerful?
I look down at my growing, pregnant belly and remember the incredible power in this creation.
My strong, resilient, ever-healing body is growing a brand new PERSON!
And my strong, powerful, breathing, serene body is going to push that person out into the world!
If that isn't empowered, I don't know what is.

It's a good time to grab hold of that, to reclaim my adventure here.
To recognize possibility and growth and healing as it's happening and as it has the potential to continue unfolding.
It's a good time to be one of the many glowing, pregnant women around town.
To get out of the house every day, even if it's just to get my oh-so-favorite fresh squeezed orange carrot juice.
To indulge in good food and winter sunshine.

It's a good time to tell my husband every day how proud I am of him.
To laugh at my silly daughter shaking her tushie to music, cracking herself up, and being a goofball.
To take walks and do yoga and take lots of deep breaths.
To connect with people because I love connecting with people.
And to always remember how precious... every... single... moment... really... IS.

We Have a Midwife!

We found the most wonderful midwife to work with!
Her name is Barbara, and she is the answer to my prayer for a warm fuzzy midwife.
I am beginning to understand that, one way or another, things always work out.
And they seem to work out just as they should.

After we went to the moshav to meet Ilana, the midwife we thought we would be working with, a few weeks ago, it became clear that it wasn't the best option.
Her birthing cabin is cozy and amazing, but it is tiny - a single room that cannot accommodate both a laboring mama and a very energetic Dahlia.
It is important to us that Dahlia have the opportunity to be there when her Baby is born.
It was Ilana who recommended to us that we seriously consider having our baby in a bigger space with multiple rooms, and not the birthing cabin.

I don't want to birth here in our apartment, with the sounds of construction serenading me as I labor.
So in mid-May when Dave wraps up his year of school, we are going to move for 6-8 weeks to a sublet in a more cozy and fun and calm neighborhood nearby.
Somewhere near shops and a walking street, a park for Dahlia, but still close enough for Dave to take Dahlia to school through the month of June after baby comes.
A cozy place where I can labor and have my baby.

Once we unattached ourselves to the birthing cabin idea, we realized that Ilana is just too far away.
If I'm going to have monthly appointments with a midwife, and twice monthly during the final months, I need to work with someone who is in Jerusalem, rather than 45 minutes away.
I was also craving a midwife who was a little more emotive and forthcoming with her warmth and enthusiasm - and Barbara is that person.
Dave said we look like we could be sisters, and we talked like we'd known each other forever.

She's from Massachusetts originally, but has lived here for 30 years, since she was 18.
She's married to an Israeli artist and has three kids.
She has been a midwife at Hadassah Ein Kerem - the hospital where I was born - for 20 years, and just after High Holy Days this year, she stopped working there to become a homebirth midwife.
She just couldn't do the medicalized hospital birth thing anymore, and believes deeply in homebirth and a woman's ability to birth naturally.

She's studying homeopathy, and my homeopath told me that they would work together to make sure that, during my labor, I had just the right remedies for my body (see, even here I've found a team of support).
Barbara is comfortable with hospitals and knows everyone at Ein Kerem.
It is unusual for a homebirth midwife here to come with you to the hospital if you need to transport, primarily because they get treated like crap there.
Barbara doesn't have this problem, and she will be with me till the end, no matter where I deliver.

I'm not planning on transporting, but it's good to know that.
When I close my eyes, I can see her there, supporting me, as I labor and birth my baby.
She is energetic and present and a good listener and has lots to say and share.
I know she will be fine with my millions of questions and my need for contact.

I am thrilled, and so relieved.
I am deeply thankful to my friend Heather, who has lived here for 3 years and birthed both of her children at home.
She asked her midwife for recommendations for me, and that is how I found Barbara.
Reaching out just a little bit here seems to have brought a pretty wonderful piece of community my way, and I feel blessed.

Fattening Up

Dave loves to see me eat.
He loves my pregnant belly, and he loves to see it grow.
I've always loved food, so I am enjoying the opportunity to eat to my heart's delight.
I'm eating my third meal of the day at 2:41 PM.
Mushroom ravioli in olive oil with grated cheddar cheese on top... yum.
I don't care how bad white flour is supposed to be for you; everyone in Italy can't possibly be wrong!
These ravioli can't possibly be bad for me.
There's a theory that if you eat blander, simpler foods that are easier to digest, your digestive system will have a much longer lifespan.
The thing is, what's the point of living more years if I can't enjoy any of those years eating things like ravioli, burritos, chocolate and ice cream?
Think about it.

My mom used to make this casserole when I was little, and it was probably the most delicious thing I've ever eaten.
One day I am going to have to make it for us, even if it has very little actual nutritional value.
Something must be said for the nutritional SOUL-feeding value of delicious food.
This marvelous casserole was actually a "gratin" - penne pasta (the kind with the diagonal edges and ridged surface), bechamel sauce (made of milk, butter, flour and salt), butter, salt, and a ton of grated Swiss or other white cheese throughout and on top.
Put it in the oven and you get the most glutonously delicious dish ever.
Thanks Mom...
(Maybe if I add broccoli and carrots to it, I can even call it nutritious!)

My mom was smart, though.
She'd make this very dark green blended vegetable soup all week.
Before we could have gratin or steak or fried filet of sole or any other incredibly palatable food, we'd have to eat a bowl of vegetable soup - Sharon, Dad and me.
That way the vegetables got into our bodies daily, and she didn't have to fight us to eat whatever vegetable was on our plate, accompanying better tasting items.
We may not have enjoyed the soup - it had too many celery hairs in it; to this day, Sharon and I can't stand celery - but we ate it because we knew what was coming next.
Me, I prefer making soups that taste really good, and hopefully Dahlia and Baby will grow up to enjoy them.

I'm still not very big, although everything is clearly going just fine.
I started off with more weight on me before I got pregnant with Dahlia, so I have more to catch up on now.
But my uterus is rising every day, and my appetite clearly tells me that Baby needs me to keep eating!
I'm not worried about what I'm eating because I know I'm a healthy eater.
I love vegetables and fruits and I'm not a sugar fiend (except for my daily piece of chocolate).
And even though I really really love Haagen Dasz Belgian Chocolate ice cream, I know it doesn't count as one of the food groups (it sure is good, though, all those tiny pieces of chocolate mixed in to the creamy ice cream).
I promise I won't write exclusively about food on this blog.
Right now, though, I sure am enjoying fattening up.

Commitment

Something interesting and not entirely surprising is happening on my skin.
Right where the shingles blisters are completing their healing, little spots of psoriasis have appeared.
I've had psoriasis on my scalp my entire life, and occasionally little spots will show up on my body.
I looked down at my chest one day last week as I was putting on vitamin E oil and noticed them.
Huh! Interesting...

A friend who is a practitioner and student of Jin Shin Jyutsu explained to me that in Jin Shin Jyutsu physio-philosophy, psoriasis and shingles are disharmonies which affect/are affected by what is called "deep skin", i.e., not superficial skin.
There is a relationship with deep skin and large intestine function and lung function energies, and also a relationship with grief and sadness.
Holding the ring finger on either hand, feeling the pulse, and considering harmony assists in allowing the harmony of deep skin.

What he shared is so in resonance with messages I've received in healing work I've done over the years.
Even Dr. Ross, the family practice doctor I worked with when I first had colitis 10 years ago, talked to me about the relationship between weakness in the large intestine and lungs and skin.
Last week Chava, my homeopath here, explained to me the difference between deep skin and superficial skin, and we are working with the Thuja, my constitutional remedy, on the deep level of healing that goes even deeper than deep skin.

Grief and sadness are so present in my story, and yet I am learning with every experience to hold them more gently and with more patience, with an eye toward healing.
I am starting to understand that healing is not an end-point, but rather a path we are all on in some way most of our lives.
It doesn't surprise me at all that the psoriasis is here now, too.
I know that they are not separate, all these things in my body.

This morning I didn't feel like entering the cold morning for my walk, so instead I did a power yoga video.
It felt wonderful, and in spite of the limitations in my left arm, I felt vital and energized.
I wasn't aware of the time going by at all - which is usually a challenge for me when it comes to exercise - and I really enjoyed how it felt the entire time.
I was reminded just how nurturing and healing yoga is for me.
I've been doing it on and off for 12 years, and yet I keep forgetting how much I love it.

So here, now, on this forum...
I am committing to a lifelong yoga practice.
This is a good beginning time.
And it feels good for my pregnancy.

I can't say what that's going to look like for the rest of my life.
But for now, I have a yoga video that I can still do until my belly gets bigger and I can't do cobra pose anymore.
A few nights ago, Dave asked if I wanted a prenatal yoga DVD, since he was ordering some things on Amazon for himself.
I had two choices - a mild prenatal yoga tape with the usual gentle pregnancy moves, or a more active prenatal vinyasa tape.
I chose the vinyasa tape, because now is that time for me to make positive change with my body, and change now means getting active, moving, using my body to its fullest capacity.
I'm really excited to get it when grandma and grandpa come in January.
It feels good to be excited.

Avocados!

16.5 weeks pregnant; baby is the size of an avocado (four and a half inches long (head to bottom) and three and a half ounces.

Avocados have returned to Israel.
They didn't really leave, but they went through a few bad months.
Now they are back and they taste like avocados should - rich and creamy and deliciously satisfying.
If I were stuck on a desert island and I could have one, maybe two foods, they would be avocados and mangos.
Anyway, it's avocado week for Baby, so I will be enjoying several in his/her honor.
Apparently, in the next three weeks, Baby will go through a huge growth spurt, doubling in weight and adding inches to her/his length.
Next month we're going with Grandma Rosie and Grandpa Stan (who will be visiting soon) and Dahlia to my 20-week ultrasound.
That should be quite an experience to share all together.

Delicious!

What I've thoroughly enjoyed in the food kingdom today (it's still before dinner... so the night is young):

Three eggs, scrambled, with avocado and grated cheddar cheese, a small piece of challah.
4 squares of Milka chocolate.
A deliciously sweet persimmon.
A fresh squeezed orange-carrot juice from the shuk (I was craving the vitamins).
A feast of vegetarian Indian food from a tiny new hole in the wall near the shuk, accompanied by a lassi and a chai.
A scoop of chocolate-hazelnut ice cream on a cone.

How's that for a healthy high-calorie pregnancy diet?
I brought home more Indian food for Dave and I to share for dinner...
I think I could eat Indian food every day, really.
I will gain healthy weight during this pregnancy, I will, I will!

Hard Working Body

My body is working really hard right now.
I am perpetually hungry, eating probably 6-8 times a day.
When I'm stressed or feeling really crappy, I lose my appetite.
But when I'm healing, and when I'm growing a baby, my body needs the nourishment of good food.
And that includes a good piece of salty-sweet milk chocolate every day, usually mid-morning.
No matter what anyone says, chocolate is good for my soul, and therefore good for my body.
I spent 4 formative childhood years in France, and there I ate a lot of chocolate.
My love of chocolate, my need for it at times, will never go away.

I'm worlds better than I was a few weeks ago, but I feel like my shingles has hit a wall.
I'm still sleeping like crap, which makes me float through the days in a bit of a daze.
Dozing off on the couch in the middle of the day - while that sounds lovely - causes my elbow to cramp up.
I'm better sitting up or walking, getting the blood circulating through the nerves that are so tender and sore from all they've been through.
I'm going to see the homeopath tomorrow, and she may give me a new remedy for this next stage.
This morning Dave said he wishes he'd taken photos of my blisters.
No way... that was probably the grossest thing my body's ever done, and I'd prefer to obliterate it from my memory forever (though I have a feeling I will never quite forget it).
I have no idea if they are going to leave scars... the skin is taking a good while to heal completely, and it's very pink now.
A few scabs are still healing over, mostly around where the nerve pain remains - in my shoulder blade, elbow and armpit.

Meanwhile my belly grows.
I'm still pretty small, but I think it's because I'm starting off weighing less than before I got pregnant with Dahlia.
I'm eating a ton of dairy, which seems to be my norm during pregnancy.
And over the last 5 days I've had lentil soup or lentil daal every single day.
Funny, but I am craving meat much less now that my colitis is gone.
Lentils feel great, and so do root vegetables - it's almost winter, and those are winter foods.
Occasionally we'll have chicken or livers or fish, and a few times a week I'll have eggs.
But mostly my animal products come in the form of the most delicious and expensive hard cheddar cheese we found at the shuk, and sheep yogurt that is to die for.
We bought a pound of cheddar last week and we're almost through it.
It's our luxury item, along with maple syrup, which sells for $9 for a small bottle.
I'm looking forward to my first Trader Joe's shopping spree in Cincinnati...

Tomorrow I start a prenatal yoga class at the YMCA a few minutes away.
On Sunday I am meeting another homebirth midwife named Joyce.
She lives just outside Jerusalem, but comes into the city once a week.
That means she would be able to see me for my monthly prenatal appointments in my home, whereas with the other midwife, Ilana, I'd have to get to her moshav an hour away.
Ilana's birthing cabin is adorable and would be a great place to birth, but it's not ideal for us for one very important reason: Dahlia.
It is very important to both of us that Dahlia be there for the birth of her sibling.
And as Ilana reminded us, it's also very important for me to have the quiet and space to get into my zone in order to have a successful labor.
We need more space in order to accommodate both, and Dahlia is going to need a caregiver to give her all she needs during the birth.
So I am going to birth at home, and that means finding a new home for that time.
I mid-May, we'll get a sublet for 6-8 weeks where we can have the baby and enjoy quiet during our final chunk of time in Jerusalem.
We'll get a place in a nice, quiet, and more neighborhoody part of town.
We'll get a place far from any construction, somewhere cozy but still close to Dahlia's school, where she'll be going through June.

Meeting and talking to midwives here has been interesting.
They are so different than the warm fuzzy midwives I know in the Bay Area.
Israelis have an edge, and warm fuzzy isn't quite the word I'd use for the general population.
And yet these are women who are committed to birth outside of hospitals, where apparently they are treated quite badly.
It sounds like most of them will not come with you to the hospital if you need to transport, because they know they will be mistreated and ignored, and possibly not even allowed in the room with you.
Birth is very medicalized in hospitals here.
A friend from the US who had her two children at home told me that, if I had transported with Dahlia here in Israel, they probably would've given me a c-section right away.
I feel incredibly lucky to have birthed her in the Bay Area.
I'm not anticipating a transport here, but it's important to be prepared for any possibility.
I am visualizing pushing my baby out, surrounded by Dave and Dahlia, in the warmth of June in a cozy home.

Dahlia is 100% positive that the baby is a boy.
I'm kind of feeling a boy right now too, but not with the sureness I held with Dahlia (who was, no doubt, going to be a boy).
It would be sweet to have a boy, and it would also be sweet to have another girl.
Yesterday Dahlia looked at me and my belly and said, "Mommy, I love your baby."
I said to her, "You know, it's your baby too. This baby is going to be our family's baby."
She's going to be an amazing big sister.

I looked down at my healing shingles blisters today, the still slightly raw skin that is pink against the olive complexion of the rest of my skin.
And I looked down at my belly.
And I thought, "Okay, I can push another baby out of this amazingly powerful body. It's going to be painful, but I guess I'm kind of used to pain at this point. When the time comes, I will be ready."
I pictured myself in labor, noticing a small scar from the shingles on my skin, reminded of my incredible strength, inspired to push out my baby in spite of the pain.
This may be my last pregnancy, I can't say for sure.
I know only that I am savoring it as much as I possibly can.
I look at Dahlia and I am amazed of the incredible being she creates out of herself every day.
I can't wait to meet this next little person forming right now inside me.
Keep growing healthy and strong, little one.

Bad Sleep

I don't think I've gotten worse sleep than in the past three weeks.
Shingles makes for some really crappy sleep.
I finally just got out of bed tonight after trying to fall asleep for almost two hours.
It's not excruciating and ceaseless pain that is keeping me up now, like it was two weeks ago.
Now my healing and still raw blister remains are ITCHY.
Itchy from the inside, and if I scratch, it actually kind of hurts.
My arm feels like it is hot from all the scratching.
Lying on my back doesn't feel good because the nerves in the side of my elbow hurt and my back shoulder itches.
Lying on my other side doesn't work because my itchy left arm doesn't know how to lie over my body without itching and uncomfortableness.
Lying on my shingles side just makes it itch and cramp up and ache.
And lying on my stomach makes everything happen all at once.
Luckily, Dave is a deep sleeper so I'm not waking him up tossing from one side to the other and getting up every few minutes.
The sound screaming in my head: AARRGGHH!!
(The image to accompany that is Charlie Brown looking at the sky and yelling this in frustration.)

I am so done with this shingles business.
I am deeply thankful not to be in terrifying agony anymore.
I'm thankful to have had the blisters themselves for only a week instead of two or three, even if they were followed by painfully open sores.
I am thankful to be on this end of it, rather than at the beginning, that night three weeks ago when I remember thinking, "Oh shit, this is going to take a long time and it's going to be painful as hell. God help me!"
I am thankful for the thriving and growing little person forming every day inside my womb.
But I am so unbelievably over having shingles already.
Wearing clothes is uncomfortable because anything that rubs against my skin now makes it itch, whereas before it was just plain painful for anything to touch the blisters and open sores.
I wish there was a way I could sleep while in the bathtub, because immersed in hot water, my skin calms down and so does any pain in my nerves.
If I weren't pregnant, I'd be taking some Benadryl right now.
It is just plain uncomfortable and I'm not exactly sure how I'm supposed to fall asleep and stay asleep.
I've been waking up 3-5 times a night, then having to get myself back to sleep all over again.
Sometimes waking with a major cramp in my elbow because the blood isn't circulating as much as when I'm up and moving around.
So I get up and move around and check email at 3 am.
(In case you're wondering what I'm doing on email at that ungodly hour.)
I have a feeling I will be taking a snooze on the couch sometime tomorrow to catch up on lost sleep.

Okay, I've had a snack, vented my frustrations a bit; I suppose I can go back to bed and try to breathe and get myself to sleep.
At least I'm having plenty of opportunities to take in extra calories in the hopes of gaining the weight I need to gain for my pregnancy, which was a challenge for me when I was carrying Dahlia.
Thank God for my appetite, and the abundant good food we got at the shuk on Friday when we had a rental car.
Wish me luck sleeping tonight...

An Apple a Day

15 weeks pregnant; Baby is the size of an apple - 4 inches long, crown to rump, and weighing about 2 1/2 ounces.

My tummy is still small, but definitely there.
Especially when I relax my tendency to suck it in all the time.
My uterus is rising and feels firm when I touch it.
My appetite is good and I am eating a lot.
I think when I was pregnant with Dahlia, I started off heavier pre-pregnancy.
About 3-4 weeks after starting to nurse her, I dropped down to below my pre-pregnancy weight.
Haven't really gained much since, so now I need to really make sure I do.
It's hard for me to gain weight, I had to be aware of this when I carried Dahlia.
Baby always gets exactly what s/he needs, but I need to make sure that I do too.
Not just while I'm pregnant, but afterwards so I can feel vital and strong and able to nurse without depleting my reserves.
I know that it is a lot of work to nurse a baby, and to do it all with very little sleep.

I'm still feeling pain and not sleeping great, but it's feeling a little easier to put on clothes over my raw skin.
Sunday morning, the start of a new week here, I am going on my first morning walk.
As long as it's not raining, I am going to do it every day for at least 30-60 minutes.
Breathe fresh air, move my body, get my heart going, rock the baby in my womb, and clear my busy mind before starting the part of my day usually spent sitting at the computer.
It's time to make a change, and to use this challenge as an opportunity to really get healthy and stay that way.
To have a healthy pregnancy, and a healthy postpartum.
My acupuncturist back home said that a pregnancy can be an opportunity to harness energy and come out even stronger.
That is my hope and my desire, my goal.

Today we are meeting the midwife, and I will write about that afterwards.
I hope it will work out with her, because my desire to have my baby outside of the hospital is even stronger.
A pregnant friend told me about her experience visiting one of the Hadassah hospitals here, and it actually sounds pretty amazing for a hospital birth scenario.
Lots of freedom, private space, low intervention - they seem to respect their laboring mothers.
I read her description and asked myself, "Could this work for me?"
Then I closed my eyes and imagined it, and I couldn't see or feel myself there.
It's still a hospital, and I only want a hospital in my experience as an emergency backup, not as my birth place of choice.
At the end of the day when I've birthed my baby and it's late at night, I want my baby to sleep by my side, nestled in between me, Dave and Dahlia.
Not in a nursery with other babies.
I want us all to be there together from the beginning.
I want warmth and comfort and safety and familiarity - as much familiarity as I can have here, far away from the familiar.
I'm starting to connect with the birthing world here, and it is all delightfully interlinked.
I've talked to two doulas who know the midwife.
I will soon be talking to a woman who has birthed her 4 children at home.
People might look at me strange when I say I'm not planning to have my baby in the hospital, but I know that I am not alone here.
My vision and desire are clear - for me, for Baby, and for our family.

Adagio for Strings

There is a piece by Barber called Adagio for Strings.
It is a heart-wrenching, simply gorgeous piece of music.
I heard it many times as a child, played on the record player by my mom.
The music crackling with the noise only a record makes as it turns under the needle.
I heard it along with Vivaldi, Verdi, the Pachelbel Canon, the Moonlight Sonata, Gymnopedi.
My mom loved classical music, along with Judy Collins and Joan Baez and Joni Mitchell.
My dad loved the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen.

I grew up to some beautiful music, music I am still deeply connected to.
One of these songs can bring me right back to our living room, lying on the beige shag carpet with my eyes closed, taking it in.
Sometimes holding my mom's hand or lying with my head on my dad's lap.
Fire burning in the fireplace if it was cold outside.
Or the sliding glass door open to let in the warm summer air.

Christie says that when something shows up on your skin, it means you are doing the deepest layer of healing.
Perhaps there is some really old grief I am letting out right now, and it is taking its time because a lot wants out of my body.
Maybe there is some longing for some of those sweet old times of my childhood, before any of the drama hit.
I've been listening to a lot of classical music, and it has been comforting rather than sad.
Maybe it's a good reminder that within some of the pain there is also a great deal of beauty and comfort.

Only one side of my body is covered in blisters that are healing and still raw and red from where the scabs have come off.
The other side is intact, the skin clear, the arm strong and free of nerve pain.
I don't really experience myself as half intact and half broken, but sometimes I feel like the broken and whole are mixed together in a more random way within me.
Sometimes I feel more whole than others, sometimes I feel more broken.
I know that in one way or another we are all broken and whole together.

I've had shingles for over three weeks.
Just over two weeks ago I was in the ER at 3 am.
Dave describes the look of fear and horror on my face as I wondered what was going on in my body to cause such vile and violent looking blisters and pain.
As I cried in agony, I actually asked him, "Why me?"
I try not to approach life with a why me attitude, because I am quickly reminded to ask also, "Why am I so deeply blessed?"
I know that God is watching over me closely, holding me, challenging me, believing that I have something to learn, to gain, to grow from.
Believing that I am capable of it all, even if sometimes I want to say, "Enough. I don't want to be so capable anymore. Leave me alone to just relax."

I'm tired of being in pain, of not sleeping more than an hour or two before waking in pain, of being so cramped and my skin burning in the morning that I have to take a bath to calm it all down and start my day of lying on the couch.
I'm ready to get off the couch.
I am venturing out more, but not much, primarily because my skin is still so raw that putting on clothing is excruciating.
At home I stay in a tank top with the heat on, so nothing can rub against the red hot skin.

This morning I slept until 10:15, I was so deeply tired.
I had a ton of dreams.
Healing from illness, being in pain most of the day, and growing a baby at the same time is a lot of work.
My body is tired and ready to be well.
As soon as I can wear clothes without pain, I am going to start walking every morning for an hour, before doing anything else.
My body needs exercise - regularly, for the rest of my life.
For movement, for health, for release and for tranquility in my busy mind.

My appetite is big right now, and I am eating a lot.
Baby is growing, and I am nurturing both of us.
It's a good sign that I have an appetite, because usually physical and emotional pain and struggle will cause me to totally lose my appetite.
I'm eating a lot of cheese - cheese is hitting the spot right now.
I ate a lot of dairy with Dahlia, too.
I sure would love a big glass of raw milk right now...
Oh, and that Breyer's Black Cherry Avalanche ice cream... mmm.

We're almost halfway through our time here in Israel.
Dave and I are still in such different places about it all, and that is what it is.
No right or wrong.
He's worked so hard to get here, wanted to be here for so long, and he is learning so much and thriving in his studies.
I'm super proud of him, I love that he is rocking it.
All the while doing so much for me and for Dahlia, working training fellow students 4-6 hours a week at the same time.
This year is a lot of work for all of us.
Yet I can't help but feel like the one who is having the least fun.
That, too, is what it is.

Dave says a lot of it has to do with my attitude going in, but that doesn't feel right either.
Because for about 1-2 of the 5 months we've been here, after the initial adjustment which was hard, I was really doing fine.
I wasn't overjoyed about it all, but I wasn't miserable.
I felt open and began connecting with friends here.
I was in a nice rhythm, I had started my class, I was busier.
Dahlia had adjusted and that put me at ease.
For at least a month before I got shingles, I really was fine.
But I think the shingles put me over the edge.
Just when I was in a decent flow that I could see getting me through the rest of the year, I was knocked down.
Challenged yet again to deal with something hard, and make the best of it.
Sometimes, folks, I just get sick of making the best of a difficult situation.
Sometimes I just want to get on a plane to Mexico and go sit on a beach for about three months.
Free of challenges, away from jackhammers, with only the repetitive soothing sound of waves surrounding me.
A quiet beach is definitely my happy place.

I really don't like to complain too much, but lately I just have felt like complaining.
Or at least being honest about how I'm feeling, because if I can't do that, then it's hopeless.
How I'm feeling is that I look forward to getting on that plane back to the US at the end of June.
How I'm feeling is that I am ready to get through this year, move on to the next experience.
How I'm feeling is very alone, even if I know that I am not, I still feel very much alone in this experience.
How I'm feeling is far away from my network of support - my family, my Jewish community, my mom community, my homebirthing community, my freaky funky Bay Area community, even my familiar little caregiving world at Kaiser and in the alternative health world.

I know Jerusalem has a lot to offer - Jewishly, culturally, spiritually, historically, politically - but I just don't have the desire to extend myself in order to tap into it for this short time.
And frankly right now, I also just don't have the energy.
Though I am open to connections that happen - like the other night when I met a lesbian couple from San Francisco who live here, and one of them is a doula and her partner knows an Israeli woman who had 4 homebirths and wrote her dissertation on the homebirth situation in Israel.
That was a sweet gift, and I hope to connect with her.
It was also delightful to connect with people who felt so familiar... people from home.

I don't think I have a bad attitude.
I think I am just feeling a little tired of trying so hard to have a good attitude, to stay positive no matter what.
I'm just feeling less positive right now than I was a month ago.
I want to give myself space to honestly acknowledge that this whole experience is really really HARD.
I think it's fair to admit that I am going to be really glad when it is over and I can move on to the next one.
I don't know that I would've gotten shingles if my body and spirit hadn't been through so much stress in the last year of my life.
I don't blame it on Israel, and I certainly don't blame it on Dave.
I'm just acknowledging my limits, my sensitivity, and that even my strong resilient spirit has boundaries.

I am craving calm.
The kind of calm I felt lying on our living room floor listening to Barber or Vivaldi or Verdi.
The calm that existed in my life before I ever knew there could be storms.
The calm that comes from complete security and trust in life.
Trust in myself, trust in my body's complete health.
My work has to do with regaining that trust, and in turn reconnecting with that calm.

Mixed Blessings

Today I went back to the homeopath because I am still in a lot of pain.
My blisters have scabbed over and started to come off, which happened very fast considering the norm.
I'm thankful for that.
But the raw skin burns, and the nerve and muscle pain is strong.
Chava gave me a stronger dose of the Thuja remedy, and a balm to mix with olive oil and put on my ouchy skin.
She had the balm for herself, and gave me some of it along with some organic olive oil she went to her house to get while I waited.
Sweet soul, so motherly.
She must sense how much I need that.

A friend said recently that it must be hard, at a time like this, to not have a "parents' house" to go home to and be taken care of right now.
It's true, I haven't had that for a long time.
I have a friend who needed knee surgery last year, and she decided to have it done in another state so she could be cared for by her parents while she healed.
I could use that right now.
My sweet Dad has said many times how much he'd like to be here to take care of me, of all of us, right now.

It took me half an hour to get a cab to get to Chava's this afternoon, and by the time I arrived I had tears in my eyes.
Weary tears, sick of being in pain tears, sad tears.
While she went to get the balm, I realized that some of the tears are about having shingles while pregnant.
About not being able to completely savor my pregnancy because my body and spirit are so preoccupied by this pain.
I feel a little deprived of being able to enjoy the beginning of my second trimester, of missing a part of my pregnancy.
But I also know that this IS a part of my pregnancy, and will be for all the years I am alive to remember it.
I pray they are abundant and healthy years.

Still, though, I am ready for this pain to go away, and for the blessing and joy of being pregnant to completely wrap me up in its deliciousness.
My body is working so hard right now - to nourish my baby and to heal itself.
Thankfully I've had my appetite back for the last 4-5 days.
I spend time with my eyes closed on the couch, connecting with my baby, hand on my belly.
Lately I've been feeling a boy in there.
I don't know why, but I imagine a boy who is able to hold without trauma the energy of my having struggled with pain during my pregnancy.
Not that a girl couldn't handle that, but for some reason I imagine the little one is a boy.

I told Dave today that for me, this year is about getting through it intact, growing but on an internal level.
I am not here to live Israeli life; I am not here to learn all I can about Israeli culture and history, or see everything there is to see.
My work here is different, and this is how it has unfolded.
I didn't come here with that intention, and after the first few months I got over my initial resistance to being open to anything this place had to offer.
But what it has offered me is different than what I expected, and I am doing my best to roll with it and to grow from it.
It is a year of challenges and mixed blessings.
I will leave here with a very special baby in my arms, and a very amazing Dahlia and David by my side, ready for the next adventure.

Going Inside, Growing Inside

When I chose the title for this blog, back during the beginning of the pregnancy I miscarried, I had a feeling it might have a double meaning.
Baby growing inside me.
Myself growing on the inside and outside.
After all, how can I go through a pregnancy without also growing myself?

But I don't think I really had any idea just how much I would be forced to grow.
Just how much would challenge me to change, adapt and grow whether I wanted to or not.
I didn't expect to miscarry... who does?
I certainly never expected to get shingles.
I didn't even expect that something would plunk into my brain in that emergency room on the day I miscarried and give me the idea of becoming a nurse.
I guess that's how growth happens - it just happens.
We're not really asked if we are ready for it or not.

One day I am nursing my newborn Dahlia who, as Dave described her then, is just a tube.
Milk would go in, yellow poop would come out.
That's all she would do in those early days, helpless and needing us every moment.
Now here she is, almost 4 years old, playing next to me with her little dollhouse.
Entertaining herself, going to pee on her own if she needs, even getting her own snacks from the kitchen.
She just grows, and for the rest of her life that will be her primary job.
For now, though, she doesn't need to be conscious of it, she can just grow in that beautiful uninhibited way that children do.
Totally in the present in every single moment.

I have spent a lot of time lying on the couch this week.
I have had a lot of time to just be, mostly with my eyes closed.
Dave called the couch my "get-well station."
In a land of rental apartments furnished with wicker, I am deeply thankful for the actual real couch in ours.
I appreciate my Dahlia, who has shared her favorite spot on the couch with me, and been so patient this week.
I am grateful for my amazing husband, who has done EVERYTHING this week, and loved me deeply on top of that, waking up when I needed him to refill my hot water bottle or run me a bath.

I wouldn't say I'm all better, but things are improving.
The blisters are starting to dry up, taking on a whole new fascinating and totally gross appearance.
They still look like a medieval disease, but they are running their course.
I look forward to seeing my real soft clear skin again, especially on my left arm, the inside of which is covered in blisters.
The pain now is mostly in my nerves - shoulder, elbow, and down my upper and lower arm.
It's less constant than a few days ago, still hot but more bearable.
Nighttime is hardest, but I am managing to get some sleep.
And dozing on the couch during the day, listening to long-lost music in my iTunes.
I couldn't type a few days ago, it hurt too much; but today it's easier.
It's easy for me to fall into the "it's time to get stuff done" trap now that I don't feel terrified, paralyzed, and like I am dying.
I am a doer, always have been.
I did a small sink of dishes and put a load of laundry in this morning, then took a bath.
Those three things totally wiped me out.
Not quite back to full energy yet, and I need to keep laying low until I am really better so that I do indeed get better, and so I stay well.

A very good friend reminded me that what is important is asking myself each day (and not just when I'm sick), "How do I want to use my time?" And also, "How can I best use this time in service to myself?"
That is a hard one to say aloud, because my natural response is, "How self-centered."
(It's not, by the way, but I think that we are conditioned to believe that taking care of ourselves first is wrong.)
But I know what he is saying: I am 36 years old and I have evolved into someone who is much better at taking care of others than I am at really taking care of myself; taking care of my soul.
By really I mean slowing down enough each day to ask myself, "What do I need right now?"
Man, if I had asked myself that question at 15, when my mom decided to bail and my house fell apart, a little voice may have responded: "I am pissed and I need to YELL at my parents, damnit!!"
Maybe some of that very old stuff wouldn't have buried itself deep inside only to have to come seeping out slowly over the years in different sessions of therapy and other cathartic experiences.
Who knows... My thoughts right now feel like they are traveling like a butterfly, making loops that intersect and all relate, but definitely aren't getting from A to B in a straight line.

After three really hard days in my body, I ventured on Wednesday out of the house.
It was exhausting, despite the fact that I took cabs everywhere.
(I was blessed that day with some of Jerusalem's kindest cab drivers, despite that they had no idea I wasn't well.)
Fortunately, the sun was warm and bright, and it felt good to breathe fresh air.
First I saw the OB-GYN and heard my baby's heartbeat.
I love hearing Baby's heartbeat, a sweet reminder that all is well in my womb, and that Baby is doing what babies do: take exactly what they need from you, no matter how you might be feeling, and grow and grow.
I told a friend here that I am pregnant and she said that she got a 5-second deja-vu when I told her.
She told me her theory on deja-vu: That it means that something is meant to be. Indeed.

After the OB, I went to a friend's house nearby and lay on her couch and watched her play with her son while we talked.
It felt good to be reclining after being upright for many hours, and to be with friends.
It has felt good this week to let others help me.
Being upright is still one of the most exhausting things - hard to imagine something that will knock you down so you have no choice but to JUST LIE DOWN.

I took a cab from there and went to see the homeopath, who is a beautiful, bright spirit of a healer I feel blessed to have connected with.
Her name is Chava (which is Hebrew for Eve), and she looks like the long lost twin of my Brazilian friend Lenira, who is also a healer.
It's comforting to look into Chava's compassionate sweet face and see Lenira's; they both have the kindest eyes.
I've been wanting to write about my session with Chava since Wednesday, but just couldn't move my arm enough to do so until now.
Probably good to take some time to digest it all, integrate it some, before gushing it all out.

I spent 2 hours with Chava, and she scribbled away a pound of notes as she asked me question after question about my story, my health, my challenges, my feelings.
Seeking key words in what I told her that would lead her to the right constitutional remedy for me.
Homeopathy is a very special form of alternative medicine, and while I am still learning about it and don't completely understand it from that brain place, it resonates deeply with me in that more intuitive place, and that is what I trust when it comes to healing.
I believe my remedy is helping me to heal swiftly and deeply.

Here are the words that came up in me which I remember most:

Fragile
Small
Sensitive
Nerve endings on the surface
Broken
Depleted
Separate
Alone
Survive
Wanting to thrive
Cold
Dry
Cracked
My empty well needs to be refilled
Tired
Anger
Fear that I might never get completely well
Fear that I might just continue to deteriorate
Strong
Resilient
Struggling
Community
Comfort
Sharing my story
Nurturing

For the past 4 months, a jackhammer has been hacking away outside my window.
Ironically, just this week the jackhammer has left the construction site altogether.
They are laying the foundation now, and the work is so delightfully quiet.
For the past 4 months, I have been cracked open, hacked away by the jackhammer of this crazy transition.
I suppose in a way we are all hacked away at for most of our lives, slowly, in ways we can't always see.
Sometimes we get to a point where we're just depleted from all that has been chiseled away.
Sometimes we feel open and vulnerable, an open wound.
Sometimes the chisel is more like a sculptor's tool, and the hacking of life makes us more pure, more us, like a beautiful statue.
For me, I just feel OPEN right now.
I am starting to get an idea of what I am doing here in Jerusalem.
Why I have come here, to this place of my birth, this place that is often much too intense for my sensitive nature.

Picture this: Me, cracked open, here in Jerusalem.
Looking around and wondering, "What now?"
Well, what now, I realize, is up to me.
My inside is exposed, so I can see deep into myself and tinker around with what needs shifting, changing, fixing, replacing, getting rid of all together.
What isn't serving me can be taken out and recycled.
Old pain and hurt can be stroked and comforted and revived to be joyful again.
Old patterns that keep me "just okay" can be changed into healthy new ones.
The old energy can be swept away, blown away.
New healthy fuel can begin to refill me inside.
And the cracks can be sealed, with moisture, nourishment, permanently sealed so they won't crack again.
I can visualize myself intact, full, thriving with good health that is lasting.
The next 20 years don't have to be anything like the last 20.

Chava said that a pregnancy is a wonderful time to do healing work on one's body and oneself, because the body is already gestating, growing, nurturing a planted seed naturally.
And that healing can be only good for the baby inside me.
She gave me a remedy called Thuja, which comes from a plant.
She explained to me that a constitutional, as opposed to an acute, remedy in homeopathy works from a deep place at the core to shift things from that place and encourage the body's own deep healing.
An acute remedy just for shingles right now would only take care of what's on the surface, and the rest of it would still be there until it showed up again in some other weird form next time.
She explained to me that from a non-Western medicine perspective, my having shingles isn't as easy to explain as my having had chickenpox as a kid.
Because why do millions of people who've had chickenpox not get shingles?
And why do some people get shingles more than once?
The fact that I have shingles at 36 is important, because I'm not old and frail, but I am clearly depleted and so is my immune system.
She asked if I have any kind of herpes-related things in my history; even things like cold sores and warts, all those genetic things that involve the skin blistering suddenly.
She said those are more important than the fact that I had chickenpox.
All the things in my health and emotional history which I shared with her, the pattern of my body being challenged by one thing after another for over 20 years, those are more important than having had chickenpox.

My body is calling out - LOUD - that it is time to REFILL my well.
It is time to nurture myself on a deep level, and to become aware of and compassionately responsive to my limitations.
I don't mean physical limitations, but more of an awareness that I am deeply sensitive to all that is around me.
That, despite the strength I have developed over years of challenges, I am also fragile, and that fragile does not mean weak.
But it does mean that it will be very good for me to integrate a regular practice of clearing and grounding meditation and restorative yoga into my day... say, for the rest of my life.
It means that it will be important for me to always live somewhere peaceful, tranquil, even if that means a quiet pocket of calm amid a bigger more bustling place.
I need a car and Trader Joe's and ease of getting from one place to another, access to things, little traffic.
I could never live in Israel permanently because it is just too challenging here.
Of course I could do it - I could do anything - but it would not be good for me.
My body would pay for it, and so would my spirit.
I'm even reconsidering what kind of nurse I want to be.
All of a sudden being a regular old nurse in a doctor's office is sounding really good - regular weekday work hours, caring for people with regular ailments, giving care but without challenging my hyper-sensitive nerve endings to their capacity every day.
We'll see, I don't need to have that all figured out now.
That's classic me - my brain is always going, and is always about 3 steps ahead of where I need to be.
And the dang thing is always working, from the second I wake up till the second I manage to fall asleep in spite of it.
It's exhausting, and definitely something to practice making still.

I am 36 - double chai - double life... appropriate.
I wrote my first post in this blog on February 18, 2007.
A few more months and it'll be a full year.
What a year, a lot of growth, and in a way, it's just the beginning.
What started as a blog about my pregnancy has turned into something much bigger and more important for me.
I'm allowing myself to be candid here, unapologetic and unselfconscious, because I no longer write in a journal that is more personal.
I think it has to do with something I said to Chava: That it is important for me to share my story with others.
Without that, without others knowing me on a deep level, I don't think I could truly thrive, much less survive.
I don't think any of us are meant to live alone, to feel our feelings alone, to experience our experiences without the ability to share them.
Since I was a kid, I've been blessed with the desire and ability to just sit down and write, and I have written in a journal since I was probably 10 years old.
I'm still writing, and in a way it keeps me alive, it makes me feel alive, it helps me to understand myself and how my story is unfolding.
I guess that makes me the quintessential blog writer - I can write, and whoever cares to read what I write can read.
It's a strange pseudo-personal space where I can tell my story with the knowledge that it is not just going into a bound journal that will eventually end up in the trunk where I keep all the journals I've ever written in.
I am blessed to have an amazing circle of support and community, and I feel that every day.
Thanks to all of you who hold me from far away.

I can tell you one thing I know deep inside: I have an amazing healthy thriving baby inside me, and s/he is going to be one very special being.
S/he is growing, too, from this experience in my body.
This experience of shingles will become part of Baby's history - both because of what we will tell her/him and because of what s/he will know on a cellular level.
In some deep way, I'm sure s/he understands, and we are supporting each other in our respective growths.
We are growing together, and I can't wait till June, when we get to look into each other's eyes for the first time.

PS. In Hebrew, shingles is pronounced "shalbeket chogeret." In French, it's "zona."

Two Million Eggs

13 weeks pregnant; baby is 3 inches long, the size of a medium (kosher) shrimp.

If Baby is a girl - and we are going to wait for the surprise when s/he is born - she already has 2 million eggs in her ovaries.
That means that I might, right now, be carrying not only my child, but my future grandchildren.
How's that for powerful?

My Surreal Night

I had a very hard night last night and ended up in the emergency room. I learned that my body does not like codeine. The shingles is all the way down my arm even onto my left palm, and the blisters are forming strong there. I woke up at 1am, after having taken 4 useless Tylenol at 11pm, and felt like my arm was on fire with hundreds of pins pricking into it. I asked Dave - my rock solid angel of a husband - to get me 2 codeine, the max dose recommended on the box. The 1 codeine I'd taken during the day hadn't helped, and neither did the Tylenol, and I was desperate. I took the codeine and went back to sleep, but I woke up at 3am with gut wrenching stomach pain. I tried to get up and eat a piece of bread to absorb the acid, but that made it worse. I woke up Dave again and he called our insurance company to find out where to go for emergencies, and called us a taxi. I called our friend Batya to come over and stay with Dahlia - she is the other one here with her husband and daughter, also going to Cincinnati, and she has been my savior these days, running errands either with me or for me. Everyone at Dave's school has been reaching out. So sweet.

Off we went in the middle of the quiet Jerusalem night to the Terem ER, where it was me and three tiny babies who were all very sick. It broke my heart to hear one with pneumonia cough, and to see another with a heart condition and a cleft palate struggle to be well. Maybe I won't be a pediatric nurse when the time comes... All I could do was curl up on the table in the room they gave us while we waited for the doctor and pray, mostly for the children who were there. At one point I felt a Big Hand reach down and lay itself on my shoulder. I have known the Big Hand for a long time. It was there the night Dave and I came together, pushing us to go there with each other. I guess it came last night to remind me that I am never alone.

I knew, when I needed to go to the ER in the middle of the night, that I had done the right thing to ask Dave to stay home from his 3-day field trip he was supposed to go to on Wednesday, and he agreed. He was so there, so solid, so functional, such a rock, my rock. The doctor gave me a big dose of Maalox for my stomach, then another one a bit later. And he also gave me a prescription for a stronger cream to put on the blisters, which Batya went and got me today and which I just put on. It's for rheumatic diseases, pain and inflammation and it is helping a little more than the other cream. Batya also got me aloe vera gel to cool things down. What feels the best are hot baths, because then my entire body is hot and it numbs out the heat and burning of the blisters. But with the baby inside me, I can't stay in a hot bath for more than a few minutes. I am going to see my OB-GYN tomorrow and I want him to let me hear the heartbeat again, because I am concerned that all these drugs and all the pain I'm in is affecting the baby. I am praying, especially after seeing these little ones last night struggling so much, that everything is fine and Baby is healthy.

And you know what? I said this to David the last time we were in the ER together when I miscarried: Whatever I need to do to have a healthy baby, I will do. Even if that is totally letting go of any ideas of natural birth and having my baby in a hospital. Even by C-section if I need to. And I'll even do an amniocentesis if I need to. I just want a healthy strong baby. This healthy strong baby. I am surrendering my ego now... Letting the Big Hand hold and lead me.

I woke up this morning and felt like it had all been a trippy dream. The image of the little girl with the heart condition in my mind. That trippy ER in the wee hours of the morning. My arm burns. I've asked for a hiatus from my online psychology class, which I will resume when I am not in pain anymore, even if that is 2 months from now. I am going to ask Stan and Rosie to bring me a lot of books to read for my last 6 months here. I will be on the couch reading a lot and taking it easy, caring for my pregnancy, caring for myself, caring for my family, and doing very little else. This time here, just being here in this heavy city so far from home - it is enough work. Clearly my body is letting me know.

The blisters are the nastiest things I've ever seen. I feel like a leper. And they hurt so much. It's tiring, so at least I am getting some sleep in between waking in pain. I am trying to track down an acupuncturist, and will see the homeopath tomorrow after my OB appointment. Dave said to spend whatever I need in order to feel better. It is hard for him to see me in such pain. I am so thankful that he is so solid, and so healthy physically.

I pray we get a LONG and HEALTHY life TOGETHER.

I am praying a lot, for myself, and now for those little babies.
I'm thinking that as a nurse I will specialize in pain management for people who are either terminally ill or have chronic pain. :)
Pain sucks!

I don't think I would've gotten shingles if I weren't here, but I'm not blaming Jerusalem. I'm on an interesting path right now, and things will settle down eventually, at least a little when I get on that plane in June. I'm time traveling there a lot, to that plane trip, and I see myself with a healthy baby on my lap, Dave and Dahlia at my side, all of us just a little (if not a lot) relieved to be heading home. May it be.

Shingles Update

I went to the doctor with Dahlia this afternoon.
My friend Batya accompanied us with her daughter Carlie - I just needed some support and someone to watch Dahlia while I got some uninterrupted care.
I am needing care right now.
The doctor had great bedside manner and was very calm and not interested in over-medicating me.
Before deciding a course of action, he confirmed everything with an infectious disease specialist.
They agreed that the shingles has no risk of affecting the baby.
They agreed that it's not worth the risk for me to take any anti-viral drugs.
He confirmed that it is safe for the baby for me to take Tylenol, and if I really need it, I can even take codeine safely.
And he also gave me a lidocaine cream to put on the rash for relief there, which is also safe.
And we both agreed it is a good idea to vaccinate Dahlia for chickenpox right away.
Unfortunately, the pharmacy near the doctor's office was out of the vaccine, so I have to hunt a bit for it and hopefully will take her back there tomorrow for her shot.
And I asked the doctor if he could get a Doppler so I could hear baby's heartbeat, and we did.
It was incredibly comforting and sweet to connect to that energy thriving inside me in spite of how crummy I feel.

There is a part of me right now that just wants to go home.
To the comforts of the familiar and my community and family.
Or maybe to Mexico or Hawaii, where it's warm.
But I'm here, and this too shall pass.
I am reaching out for the support of my few good friends here, and they are great.
And I am focusing on what is important - my family - Dave, Dahlia and the little being growing inside me, who is just fine.

Shingles... Ouch!

Apparently it is quite rare to get shingles during pregnancy.
Well, apparently it's not that rare, because guess who has shingles.
I just figured out last night what was going on in my body.
There's definitely some relief in understanding, even if it does suck.
For about 4-5 days, I've had an unexplainable pain around my left shoulder blade, extending to my elbow and a little up my neck.
Then a few nights ago I felt a weird clump of what seemed like pimples on my upper back, right next to my left shoulder.
And a little while later, the rash had spread to my upper left back and my upper left chest, red and pussy.
This all coincided with my morning sickness stopping around 11 weeks (thank God) and my itchiness stopping as well (double thank God).
So at first I thought the cramp and rash had something to do with my liver, or who knows what.
I've also been really worn down and cold, chilled to the bone despite that it isn't that freezing outside yet.
Yesterday afternoon we went to the park and I lay down on the bench, closed my eyes, and just breathed in oxygen, and drifted off into half sleep.
When we got home, I got into a boiling hot bath for about 10 minutes, because I was chilled to the bone.
When I got out of the bath and looked at the rash, it hit me that I might have shingles.
I did a bunch of reading online and emailed with a few friends who've had it, and it is definitely what's going on.
It bugged me a lot last night and I woke up a bunch, and this morning it hurts more than it has.
The rash is prickly burny and the nerve pain is more sharp and constant.
Yuk.
I'm going to see the doctor later today and Dahlia is going to come with me.
They may tell me she needs a chickenpox vaccine, which I will get her if needed so she doesn't get chickenpox.
Even though I'd hoped she would get them naturally, I just don't think I can add a sick kid to my life right now.
That just might push me over the edge.
Plus, one of the main reasons I'd wanted her to get it naturally was to prevent her from getting shingles as an adult...
But guess who had chickenpox as a kid and now has shingles... me!
Just goes to show you that you can't really be sure of anything.
It really is all just a crap shoot.
Thankfully, I'm not nauseous or itchy alone with this pain.
And I am trusting - though I do get scared sometimes - that my little baby is okay.
We shared the news about Baby with Dahlia yesterday and she was very excited.
Now she thinks it's a boy.
Last night she peed in her bed, so she came into ours in the wee hours of the morning.
Before she dozed off back to sleep, she asked me, "Mommy, can you sleep even though there's a baby inside your belly?"
I told her that Baby needs me to get a lot of rest in order to grow.
Then she asked if Baby was sleeping too, and I said either that or swimming around.
It was very sweet.
Man, I am going to be one great nurse when I finally get there!
I just keep adding experiences to my repertoire, and I have to think it is only going to make me better at the work when the time comes.
Now I have to remember: My body is strong, my baby is well, and I will feel better soon.
This year in Israel, though, will definitely not go on record as being my favorite year of all time.
But then again, after everything I've been through here, whatever comes after will hopefully feel a little easier.
Or at least I'll be even stronger to get through it.

Big Sister

I love your big sister, little one.
She is a very special girl.
You are going to love her, admire her, laugh with her, rejoice with her.
You'll probably argue with her at times.
I sure did with my sister.
But boy is that love profound!
The love of siblings, there is nothing like it.
Carrying you now, I fall more deeply in love with Dahlia each day.
You are opening me up to a deeper love than I ever imagined.
A love that can hold two children.
If I can love one child the way I do, imagine what it must be like to love two!
And to watch them love each other.
I see you two already, playing together in the backyard.
I see you watching Dahlia with deep concentration, learning from her.
I see her learning patience as you learn at your pace, yearning to catch up with her four and a half years.
I see her showing concern for you when you struggle to figure things out, showing you the way.
And I see you teaching her a few things, too.

I Love Figs

11 weeks pregnant; baby is the size of a fig!

Who loves figs? I do! I do! And so does Dave.
We ate SO MANY figs in Turkey when I was pregnant with Dahlia, sometimes fresh off a tree near our pension in the coastal Mediterranean town of Patara.
Ah... sweet memories of those amazing 32 days we spent traveling around Turkey during my second trimester.
I love that second trimester, and I look forward to it as it approaches fast.

Thanks to Babycenter.com, I know that...

Baby is just over 1 1/2 inches long now, about the size of a fig, and is almost fully formed.
The hands will soon open and close into fists, tiny tooth buds are beginning to appear under the gums, and some of the bones are beginning to harden. Baby is already busy kicking and stretching, and the tiny movements are so effortless they look like water ballet. These movements will become more frequent as the little fig's body grows and becomes more developed and functional. Apparently there's hiccupping happening now that the diaphragm is forming. Go Little Fig!

Coming Back to My Truth

The past few weeks have been focused on prenatal testing... to test or not to test.
There are so many tests to choose from, and here in Israel it feels like you could take a test a week and fill up your entire 40 weeks of pregnancy with tests.
I'm 36 this time around, whereas I was 32 with Dahlia.
I've had a miscarriage, which, rather than making me think something is wrong with my body (which there most certainly isn't), it reminds me that my body knows exactly what it's doing.
My last pregnancy wasn't vital, and my body knew that and did what a body does.
Now, my body knows my baby is thriving, and I am showing all the positive signs of a vital pregnancy: nausea, exhaustion and hunger (at least these were my experience with Dahlia).

After several weeks of Internet research, questions for doctors and midwives and women who had been pregnant over 35, serious conversations with Dave about what to test for and what we would do with the results...
Well, after all this and the increasing stress I was feeling as a result, I finally broke down.
After many days of increasing stress, I asked David to come home early from the library on Tuesday because I felt like I was falling apart.
He came home right away and we sat on our bed and had a BIG conversation.
I cried and cried, wiping my teary eyes on a tanktop I usually sleep in.
I was able to release a lot of the stress I was feeling about it all and really share what was on my mind and in my heart.
And finally, from releasing all the stress and fear and frustration about being pregnant so far from my incredible network of support...
I was able to reconnect with myself, my power, my truth, and my faith that everything is just fine.

What it comes down to is that, regardless of any test results, I wouldn't do anything different.
I wouldn't, I couldn't have an abortion.
I trust that the baby inside me is exactly the magnificent baby that is meant to come into life through me, and that this is what makes that baby perfect.
And whatever comes, it will always take some adjustment of the path our life is taking.
The illusion that we won't have to change a thing as long as we have a "perfect" baby is just that - an illusion.
I know already how much Dahlia has transformed our lives.

It's all much bigger than me and us, and the tests just make me doubt that, give me the illusion of having control when it's really not in my hands.
There is an amazing sense of power to be felt in relinquishing the need to control everything.
And it actually was feeling like it was taking the power out of me, all this stressing about what to do and not to do, relying on external factors like prenatal tests to tell me what I already know in my heart and body.
I trust that when I miscarried last time, it was my body's way of knowing something wasn't right and my body knew to take care of it.
I trust that now my body knows what it's doing, and that it is moving in a different direction this time, a solid and healthy one.
I am letting my little belly HANG OUT.

I didn't have any of these feelings when I was pregnant with Dahlia, and I don't think it was just because I was 4 years younger.
I think a lot of the doubt is navigating the whole thing in a new country, away from our entire social network and family structure, and in a city that is rather intense, where we live across the street from a noisy construction site.
A place where I often feel very alone.

After Dave and I talked through it all on Tuesday night, I felt so clear.
I wouldn't change a thing if I found out my child had a chance of having Down syndrome or whatever.
And I am very clear that I don't want an amniocentesis, which I understand is the only way to really know much for sure.
Given that, the question of, "What would I do with the results?" and the answer being "Nothing different" makes it clear that I don't need or want to have any of the triple screen tests or the nuchal translucency ultrasound.
I will do one more ultrasound around 20-22 weeks, like I did last time, for Dave and Dahlia and I to be able to see our baby forming and hear the heartbeat, to check the heart, to answer any questions that might arise then, and to make sure baby and I are fit for a homebirth - all simply for information.
And that will be all.
My first ultrasound was comforting and "hakol beseder" (all good) and so was my regular blood and urine work.

It is so different here - there are so few people with whom I can connect and speak with from the heart, rather than from the head.
My husband, my partner - he is my grounding connection, who knows me from that heart place, and hears me from that place when I am feeling lost and frazzled and I need to reconnect with myself.
Now I want to connect deeply with my baby and continue to trust my inner wisdom that everything is exactly as it is meant to be, and that this is good.

I found a kosher Jewish food takeout place today... talk about food heaven!
Spread after spread of everything you've ever loved about Jewish cooking, plus more, all prepared to take home.
$40 later, I left with a feast of stuffed cabbage, chicken, greens, rice, these amazing fried meatball things, latkes, and some other delights.
I'm enjoying a delightful day of hunger uninterrupted by nausea... and I have a feeling baby is too!
I seriously walked all over Jerusalem today, and while my legs are tired, my body feels strong.
I think baby and I are going to sleep well tonight.
Or rather, I will sleep like a log while baby does flips inside my growing womb.

Confidence in My Body

I am totally exhausted today, and pretty nauseous.
I've noticed that when the nausea increases after a period of only mild queasiness, I get really tired.
Must be a hormonal increase; I know that is all good stuff.
I got myself a little cold last week just as - virtually overnight - the season finally changed from warm late summer to cold fall.
No gradual move into fall here in Israel, it happened in one day.
It really went from 80 degrees one day to 50-60 the next, and tonight it is raining.
Rain isn't a bad thing in a city with a lot of dust and car smog.
We've taken out the space heaters and I am putting my trusty hot water bottle to good use.
I thought my cold had wrapped up by Friday, but yesterday night I had a monster headache and went to bed at 7pm.
I slept till 9:30 this morning (thanks SuperPapa for rocking Dahlia's morning solo) and still took a nap this afternoon.
Oh, it must be hibernation time again, double hibernation since I am incubating a new life and my body is working really hard.

It's been almost 3 months since I have been off prednisone and sulfazine and free of colitis.
That has been truly delightful, and now that I'm pregnant I am even more grateful for my digestive health.
Everything is moving so well in my body, something I am grateful for (sometimes I must sound like I'm 80).
I wonder, though, about the toll the colitis and the medication I took to heal it has had on my body.
I think about how much my liver and kidneys worked to process those drugs, and how tired they must be.
And I can feel how much they are working now to nurture this amazing new life that is growing inside me.
And being so tired and having a cold makes me wonder how much a pregnancy with such hard working liver and kidneys is going to tax my body in the long run.
A few months after having Dahlia, when my hormones balanced and my hair started falling out in huge quantities, and I was having a hard time keeping my energy up while breastfeeding, I really felt how hard my body had been working to grow and deliver and nurture my sweet child.
And at the same time I was - and remain - truly amazed at all that my body was/is able to do.
Not only to nurture my child, but also to nurture myself.
After all, I did labor for 38 hours to birth her.
And look at all I've done since - for both of us.

Now I am pregnant again and my body is doing this amazing thing again.
For the third time of three, I had no problem getting pregnant.
Baby is growing, thriving, developing.
And I'm managing to nurture my fetus while also taking care of myself, Dahlia and Dave.
I know I need to trust and believe in my body.
I know that I need to believe in my strength and health.
I know that the body is an amazing thing capable of great feats.
I know that my liver and kidneys are strong, even if they are working so hard.
Even if my hair is still falling out despite being pregnant... I am 4 years older now and my body has been through a lot.

But it is strong... after all, as my husband calls me, I am The Great Shrimpie - Small But Mighty!

The important thing is that my baby is growing and I am doing all I can to nurture myself.
And for now, that seems to mean sleeping a lot and eating a lot.
Being gentle and patient with myself.
And reminding my mind and my spirit that my body is strong, healthy, capable of supporting both my baby and myself for a long lifetime ahead.

An interesting emotion has come up lately for me.
It has to do with being older than I was last time I was pregnant.
I'm only 36, but there is a part of me that wishes I had started doing all this at 26.
I think it has to do with some old grief about all those years I wanted to find my partner and step into this part of my life, and how long it felt like it took me to get here.
I wouldn't trade any of it - my precious husband and daughter - for having found a partner earlier.
Maybe it's just a wish that Dave and I had met at summer camp 25 years ago, so we could have had all that much more time together.
Maybe it's wishing I was young enough to have 5 more kids.
Maybe it's wishing that I was younger so that it all would feel just a little easier.
Then again, without the emotional maturity and experience of my age, I might have been terrified to do this 10 years ago.

I don't really know what it is, but I am allowing myself the space to feel it.
And to remember that I'm not over the hill yet, and that I have a lot more years ahead of reproducing, mothering and partnering.

Burritos in Tel Aviv

10 weeks pregnant tomorrow; baby is the size of a kumquat (I love that!)

Reprinted from my other blog:

Yesterday I ate not one, but two burritos - one for lunch and one for dinner.
I went all the way to Tel Aviv to get them, and got to spend the day with my sweet dad before he heads back home on Thursday.
How did I find a Mexican restaurant in Israel?
I called the Mexican embassy in Tel Aviv, actually, and got the recommendations of a very nice administrator.
And I did a lot of Google searching and made a lot of phone calls to make sure they were open, because a lot of other Mexican joints had closed since they were listed online (including one that used to exist in Jerusalem about 10 minutes from our place).

I took the bus into Tel Aviv after dropping Dahlia off at school, and met my dad there.
We took a cab to Bialik Street in Ramat Gan, because I was also on a mission to find good comfortable funky shoes for the winter.
That was successful as well - I left with two pairs, because in Israel you can actually bargain for a deal in a regular retail store.
I couldn't choose between brown and black, so I got both (hey, I've been looking unsuccessfully for exactly these shoes for the past 3 winters, so I had to get them while I could)!
Then we took a cab to Bograshov Street in actual Tel Aviv, and walked down this hip little street past cafes and very funky looking Israelis (I felt like I was in Silverlake in LA or part of the Village in NYC) until we found our destination:
Caballero's Mexican Grill.

The owners are two sisters from Fullerton, CA who happen to be a quarter Mexican.
One of them went to culinary school, and they decided to open a Mexican restaurant in Tel Aviv.
I thanked them deeply for making that decision, and explained to them that I'd searched high and low to find them, and come from Jerusalem to get my burrito.
It was a feast: everything was made fresh, including the chips and salsa, cheese quesadillas, my exploding burrito filled with everything under the sun including sour cream (I never get sour cream at home, but how could I resist), and my dad's tostadas.
Of course I had to taste everything, and finish not only my plate but my dad's, and I swear I ate until I was fuller than full.
It was glutonously delightful.
We left with 3 more burritos for dinner, a container of salsa, and a package of frozen tortillas so that I could make burritos at home.

I smiled all the way home even though I had a little cold and was exhausted - happily full and holding a bag full of food, and two bags of new shoes.
And having spent a sweet day with my dad, whom I'm going to miss when he's not here in Jerusalem or somewhere in the country calling me every day.
I think I really needed yesterday for my mood, a definite spirit lifter and great comfort.

Tel Aviv is so completely different than Jerusalem.
It's a big city, and feels like New York.
Full of neighborhoods and shops and hipsters and refreshingly more secular than Jerusalem.
It's lighter, less heavy, less intense, even though it definitely moves at a fast pace.
I think we would've had a very different year here if we'd spent it in Tel Aviv.
We are going to have to spend some weekends there, so that all three of us can go back for Mexican food together.
Last night we had a sweet meal together and enjoyed the Mexican fare.
We even said a special blessing for burritos, which made us laugh.

We're letting ourselves miss home, honor it, acknowledge it is a part of us and always will be home.
It was nice to be around some funky yesterday in Tel Aviv - there's not a lot of funky here in Jerusalem, at least not in our little world (HUC is a very straight place).
We have to be the funky for each other, not lose that part of ourselves.
I'm not sure how much funky we're going to find in Cincinnati, but I promise to hang lots of wind chimes from our trees in the backyard, summon up a little of that Berkeley-Marin vibe, and wear bindis to Shabbat dinners.
I did confirm that there are about 10 Mexican restaurants in Cincinnati, so hopefully we'll be able to find one that satisfies our spoiled snobby taste buds.

There really ain't nothin' like California, guys...
It is a very special and magical place, even if it is overcrowded and grossly overpriced.
I really really understand now why people are willing to pay so much extra and put up with so much traffic to live there.
It is the end of the rainbow, and has been my home for almost 30 years.
I've always felt more Californian than American or French or Israeli.
There is a piece of my heart in California, and it will always be pulling me back home.

Burrito Followup

After a lot of online searching and phone calls - including one to the Mexican embassy in Tel Aviv (success!) - I've found two Mexican restaurants in Tel Aviv, within a block of each other.
And I've confirmed on the phone that they are still open.
I'm going to take the shirut shuttle to Tel Aviv tomorrow morning, and will spend the day there with my dad before he heads back to the US on Thursday.
We will be enjoying a Mexican feast for lunch! And I plan to bring extra home for dinner - Dave and Dahlia will be thrilled.
And yes, I plan to have Mexican food for lunch AND dinner.
I promise to savor the meal, chew my food slowly, and report on the experience soon.
Oh, and while I was searching for burritos in Israel, I confirmed that there are at least 10 Mexican restaurants in the Cincinnati area.
The thought of going 4 years without a burrito was starting to stress me out.
I'm sure they won't be quite as good as Californian burritos, but they should do for a good fix.
I think the little jellybean inside me is excited, too - new food to taste to replace my boring diet of bread and cheese!
By the way, the very bottom of my abdomen is starting to grow... my uterus is starting to move up and become firm.
Very exciting.

My Kingdom for a Burrito!

I am totally and completely dying for a burrito right now.
I have been for the past 4 days.
Enchiladas - bean and cheese drenched in melted cheese and enchilada sauce - would do too.
(I dream of Acapulco restaurant with my dad and sister when we were little.)
Maybe even nachos with extra cheese. Anything!
Let's just say I need to get me some Mexican food in my growing belly... and fast!
I did a Google search on "burrito Jerusalem" and "Mexican food Jerusalem" and found one place not too far from my house.
Too good to be true? Definitely.
When I called their number it had been disconnected.
If I'd passed Mexican food on Yoel Salomon St., I would've noticed.
Guess there's too much competition with shwarma and falafel, which I am completely sick of right now.
I think I'm going to have to get creative and make my own burritos or enchiladas.
Either with overpriced tortillas you can get at only one store here, or improvising with lavash bread or even pita if I have to.
I have canned blacked beans, and will find cheddar cheese.
I had a burrito period when I was really nauseous and pregnant with Dahlia - all that startch was all that could even remotely alleviate the nausea.
This craving is not just about the nausea - I am just really missing the weekly dose of burritos we used to so easily indulge in.
Sigh... I miss California right now.
I have a feeling it's going to be about 5 years before I can regularly find a good burrito again.
I think we're going to have to move to New Mexico, Arizona or California after Cincinnati (sorry, I won't live in Texas)...
Those of you in CA, don't take the burrito for granted... it is a very special food.
Anyone want to send a few burritos on dry ice my way?