Life during Corona: Week 1

Friday, March 20, 2020

We have survived the first week.

My husband, my best friend, my three kids (6yo, 4yo, and 2yo) and I are stuck in our three bedroom apartment in Netanya. The kids are home from school until who-knows-when, hubby is working from home (mostly in the evenings), and I'm working on staying sane and taking care of my kids and the apartment.

The kids have a LOT of energy - did I mention their ages? As predicted, they have had outbursts, big feelings, some regressions, and tantrums, but, for the most part, they've been pretty good considering the circumstances.

We took them outside for a bit twice this week (more than just our balcony) with our new scooters and it was great for them. Their cheeks got pink and flushed and they had huge smiles on their faces.

The rest of the time, we watched science shows (we like Dr. Binocs, among others), worked on a new 500-piece puzzle, drew pictures, played with legos and magnetiles, and read books. I'm sure we did more, but I can't think of it.

Me? I've had some anxiety though not all the time. It usually kicks in after bedtime, when I'm not distracted by the munchkins anymore. When everything slows down again and I have my life and my time to myself.

One morning I was having an especially hard time (Wednesday or Thursday, I believe, who knows what day it is anymore) and my hubby let me shut myself in my room and took care of all three crazies. He brought me coffee and food and I eventually came out after lunchtime.

Yesterday or the day before, we received news from my gynecologist's office that my next ultrasound (at the end of March) is cancelled due the worldwide corona pandemic (I'm currently 26 weeks pregnant). Apparently, that's not essential. I'm not too worried though because all my other tests have come back clear.

And tomorrow is my birthday. My 42nd - where I am the answer to life, the universe, and everything. We were really looking forward to this one.

I've gotten a few birthday wishes already and it's a little weird. Generally, I don't like to answer the phone, but, these days, I'll answer just to hear a familiar voice say, "happy corona birthday!" It was wonderful, but, honestly, it's not feeling like my birthday. Ever since my mom passed, my birthday has been kinda meh, but this year it's reached an entirely new level. It's like it doesn't exist and, honestly, I don't want it to. Like it just won't happen this year. It feels invisible, nonexistent. Like nothing matters.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Last night, I shared my feelings with my husband, reminding myself that he's not psychic. I tried to downplay it, but the anxiety kicked in hardcore. He wanted to know why I was crying, but it's hard to explain when it's nothing specific. I guess that's why they call it 'generalized' anxiety. I don't really worry about my immediate family here in Israel; I believe our country is handling it pretty well. I do worry about my brother in New York, my sister and her family in Toronto, and my two brothers and their families in Detroit. I worry about my dad, who is 82, and my friends who work in the medical field. I worry about my friends in the automotive sector, those who have been laid off, those who are single parents, those who are still working. There's lot to worry about. I told him how my birthday is just... nonexistent this year. He felt bad, said he ordered gifts for me, but due to corona (F-U corona), they likely won't arrive until the end of next month.

After crying, we held hands and fell asleep.

This morning, I slept in (always a big deal to a sleep deprived, sleep disordered, six-month pregnant mother of three). Hubby took care of the kids and around 11am; I woke up slowly. My husband came in and asked if I was going back to sleep or waking up. "Waking up," I said.

About ten minutes later, after I overheard some brief instruction to my 4yo to not bother me, everyone knocked and came in with a (high chair) tray of food (and a screwdriver, care of the 4yo), a mug of coffee, a lego crown (care of the 6yo), singing happy birthday, and to top it off, my BFF gave me a wonderful, pampering gift.

In my life, to my recollection, I have never had breakfast brought to me in bed. It was amazing.

Suddenly, I was lighter. A million times lighter. And a thousand times happier. Here were the most important people in my life, showing me love, happiness, and comfort. I smiled a huge smile.

I enjoyed my breakfast, drank my hot coffee, and read a book. Luxurious.

I felt renewed. After that, we all spent the day together, and that night, my amazing husband cooked us a chuck steak slathered in garlic (there is no such thing as too much), roasted potatoes, and garlic bread. The picture below really doesn't do it justice, but it was amazing.

With this day, my husband really resurrected my birthday... and my mood. Onto week 2.

Flutters of a Rainbow

January 30, 2020

Yesterday, we went in for our amniocentesis. I've been nervous about this for a while since there is a chance, though very small, of a miscarriage or injury to myself and the baby as a result of the procedure. I also run small in my pregnancies and, again, I have an anterior placenta (in the front) so that also adds challenge to the procedure.

Why was going through with this at all? I think mainly due to my age (I'm 41.9) and the heavy shadow of the last pregnancy. During the course of this pregnancy, we've had some scares. One of my blood tests, in this pregnancy, came back showing parvovirus - but then we learned that there are two results for that virus, one that shows its former presence (i.e. you had it in the past) and another that shows its present status of being in your blood (i.e. you have it right now). After some intense research, we discovered that I had had it in the past, though not currently. But in the time it took to comprehend my test results, my anxiety was through the roof and I was practically in tears on the train (always the train).

For those who don't know, parvovirus is a nasty virus for pregnancy and for all living things. Humans get the human strain (B19) of the tiny disease; it causes 5th disease (erythema infectiosum) in kids and, in 10% (or more) of the cases when pregnant women catch it, it causes hydrops fetalis, mainly due to severe fetal anemia, sometimes leading to miscarriage or stillbirth. Currently, there is no treatment or vaccine, though not for lack of trying.

I have no way of knowing when I actually contracted the virus or if it was one of the contributing factors to my loss. Also, my baby's umbilical cord was attached in the wrong place as well, so parvovirus might not have played any role at all in the loss. In the end, it doesn't really matter, does it?

But I digress. Another reason I was okay with doing the amnio is because my doctor would be the one doing it and after being in Israel for four and a half years, I finally found one I really trusted. He'd do it himself with the team in Assuta in Haifa.

I got especially nervous the week before the procedure but late last week (or early this week), I started feeling tiny little flutters inside my uterus. They are a little hard to describe and the only reason I even recognized them is because this is my fifth pregnancy (so weird to say).

See, some of the hardest times during the whole journey to a baby are: (1) the two week wait to see if you got lucky enough to get pregnant; and (2) the first half of the pregnancy until you actually feel what's growing inside you (medievally named "the quickening").

On our hour-long drive up north, I was kinda quiet. Telling myself that my mom had gone through amnios back in the '70s and '80s and everything turned out fine... that it's statistically more likely that something was wrong with the baby than the baby being hurt by the procedure... that Dr. Feldman knew what he was doing... and suddenly, my husband interrupted and told me to look out his window. And there, shining far out over the Mediterranean Sea, emerging from deep greenish gray clouds, was a beautiful Rainbow, saturated in color (though the picture below really doesn't do it justice).

The whole appointment, including the procedure, took about twenty minutes. That's it. A lot of hospital paper to localize the area and three wipe-downs with a LOT of sanitizing alcohol (so cold!). It probably would have taken even shorter had Rainbow not mooned the doctor.

Seriously.

Baby was facing tushy up when the doctor started using the ultrasound wand to figure out where to stick the needle and showed him a cute, tiny tush. It was quite the comic relief when my good-natured doctor said, with a smile, we don't behave like that!

He continued, pushed the baby around a bit to make room, pushed it around a bit more since it didn't like to cooperate (this kid is going to fit smoothly into my family), and finally found a space to insert the needle and withdraw the yellowish fluid (so much!). After he finished, I felt woozy, like when I donate blood, but worse. I sat there and drank water until the worst of it passed and then I became sickly ravenous.

Afterwards, we immediately went for food. Because I felt so sick, I ate verrrry slowly and we finally left the mall and headed for the car. We got back to Netanya just in time to get the boys, come home, and for me to pass out. Essentially, I slept on and off for the entire next two to two and a half days; I was wiped out.

I finally felt like myself again after the weekend but had a lovely bruise in the area of the procedure - especially wonderful since I have to give myself blood thinning shots every night in the same area. Then I waited, again, for the results which were to take 2-4 weeks.

Seriously.

Spirituality = Mental Health (we're getting there...)

I started therapy last month as a result of my husband requesting and pushing me to do so. I got lucky; the nearby university had an opening and I grabbed it (they have Master's and PhD students conduct therapy sessions at a reduced cost as part of their requirements for graduation).

I won't get into all the details about why I'm going to therapy but I'll say this.. I've heard that the three biggest stressors in life are (not necessarily in this order): losing a job, moving, and someone close to you dying. In the past couple years, I've hit all three. I have never really had the time or opportunity to deal with all of this when it happened, so now I'm doing so - for my health and for my family's health.

My therapist is a great guy, an Israeli with fantastic English (I'm really impressed). He was assigned to me after I described the issues I'd like to resolve and I truly enjoy our conversations each week. Sometimes there's a concept or word that we have trouble expressing but we get through it. At the end of each session, he almost always has a unique perspective on what I've shared the past hour.

I guess that's the point... sometimes we get so deeply mired in our own lives and minds that we can't dig ourselves out, we can't get an outside perspective on what we've experienced or how someone's decision 35 years ago benefits us now. Let me share...

When I was little (or just before I was born, I don't know), my mom and dad were driving in a car, chatting about how they wanted to raise their children. At that point, they already had two (maybe three) kids, and wanted to make sure that we grew up enjoying Judaism, married Jewish, and remained (at least somewhat) religious. They realized that in order to do so, they needed to act the same way and so they made a conscious decision to become more observant of the laws of Judaism.

Fast forward several decades.

I've made quite a journey through Judaism. I pulled away when I was a teenager (due to my dating a secular Jew), then stopped being religious altogether for about eight months. I hated it. All my weeks starting running together. Nothing seemed special; I felt ordinary. So I went back to keeping the Sabbath and kosher and I've loved it (mostly) ever since. The Sabbath is my weekly vacation and mikveh (the ritual bath - but that's another whole story) allows me to give my kids' souls a fresh, clean start in life (and hopefully won't screw them up too much along the way). I don't always cover my hair, but when I do, I make sure to match my scarves to my outfit in an artistic way.

With my belief in G-d and feelings of spirituality, I have faith that things happen for a reason. I don't know what those reasons are, but I don't need to.

Years ago, when a close family friend passed away suddenly from cancer in his early 40s, I was shaken. The deceased man's brother was a rabbi and he shared a story at the funeral. He explained that our lives are represented by the back of a tapestry. It is made up of knots, this yarn leading to that yarn, colors leading into other colors - none of it makes sense. But... if you were able to look at the FRONT of the tapestry, it would be a gorgeous picture.

The problem is, we don't get to see the front of the picture while we're in this world.

I am not telling you what to feel or to religiously observant, but I had to have some sort of belief that there is a bigger picture. I am simple human being with a good, but limited, brain. I'm simply not capable of seeing why bad things happen, but I know, I believe, that things happen for a reason. Maybe I'm wrong and there are times when it's just sh*tty luck, but I don't think so.

After I relayed all this to my therapist, he asked me if I believed that my mom passed away for a reason. The truth is, when people pass away, when things just suck, people want to understand why it happened. When my mom passed away, I think I also wanted to understand why (I don't remember), but I know that right now, the 'why' doesn't matter as much because it happened. Period. It is what it is.

After talking this through with my therapist, he helped me realize (just by him listening, of course) that if I weren't religious and observant, more so if I weren't spiritual, I would be a lot worse off when dealing with the loss of my mom (and everyone else I've lost). Trust me, that ain't a pretty picture.

What else did he tell me? That 35-37 years ago, when my mom and dad made that decision to raise us as Jewish kids, to give us that support, they also, unknowingly, gave me the spiritual tools to deal with their passing away.

Mind blown.

That's quite a long yarn woven over the course of decades. I am forever grateful to my parents for that tapestry - in my mind's eye, it is gorgeous.

The Freedom of Commitment: Religion

To me, the best, most comforting and loving thing in the world is a hug. It envelops you, holds you close, provides emotional and physical support, and comfort. It makes you relax, feel cared for, loved, and, best of all, you know you are not alone.

This is my view on religion.

When I was younger, there was an eight month period of time when I wasn't religious. I didn't celebrate Shabbos and didn't keep kosher (though I still didn't eat meat and cheese together and didn't eat shellfish). I lived with a non-Jewish girl and did almost whatever I wanted simply because I wanted to see what it was like on the 'other side.' I wanted to see how a majority of Americans lived and what it'd be like to not be restricted by all the rules.

I was expecting to feel freedom and a lightness of responsibility.

What I felt instead was confusion and a loss of structure. One day blended into the next, one week into another, months went by with no sign of division; I didn't know what day it was. Never mind the guilt. I had actually taught myself to ignore it years before. No - the real problem, in addition to the chronological confusion, was my loss of identity.

I was just like everyone else (my personal hell)!!

How did people live like this, doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, to whomever they wanted? How did they STOP and give some time to themselves? How did they judge who and what should have the highest priority? How did they decide what, if anything, was more important and bigger than themselves? I had no reason for why I did things except that it felt good. Why not?

What I learned from that period of time was that, just as children need structure in order to blossom, adults need structure and rules as well. The Federal and State governments provide laws in order to protect its citizens; religions are no different (though their rules are based on morality).

Even as I returned to the comforts of observant Judaism, I still fought many of the rules. Despite loving to learn about it, I refused to study it since I then felt that I'd be obligated to follow what I learned (I have a tendency to need to follow logic). For years, it was quite an internal struggle that I suffered. I even recall having a breakdown while hanging out with a former (non-Jewish) boyfriend, in tears because I felt so incredibly torn.

It was physically painful.

My Jewish soul was tugging at me constantly. Only after I accepted that I was Jewish and LOVED being Jewish did the relief finally come. That's not to say that it's easy for me. I still struggle almost daily with some of the rules. But, in general, I have discovered that instead of fierce restrictions and limitations choking me, my religion permits me a certain freedom -- the freedom I had been originally searching for.

Freedom to stop worrying about my calendar.
Freedom to focus on my future rather than my present.
Freedom to permit myself a weekly vacation.
Freedom to recognize a special soul within myself (and, more importantly, others).
Freedom to accept a REASON for everything (even if I don't know what it is).
Freedom to enjoy structure.
Freedom to know that I am not the most important thing in my world.
Freedom to feel that I'm being protected.
Freedom to see the bigger picture of my neighborhood, world, and universe.

Too much freedom can easily be overwhelming and destructive. Routine and discipline have their benefits.

As Albert Einstein said wisely, "[a]ll religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling man's life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and leading the individual towards freedom."

The structure of my religion has provided me with freedom and a breath of freshness. While my intellectual fight continues and while my emotional struggle goes on, I realize that there's something out there that is smarter than me. I am still myself. I am sassy, argumentative, independent, and colorful. I ask 'why' to many of the rules and beliefs because I need to understand the logic behind laws. I'm not so arrogant to think that I have all the answers, but I feel comforted that Something does.

To me, that's better than a hug.