Spinning Babies and Visiting the Mikvah for an Easy Birth

I don't know if anyone out there on the interwebs has been waiting to hear what happened, but it went something like this:

I posted about the baby being breech and us finding some upside down books and properly flipping them on a Monday. On that Tuesday, I started having unbelievable pain. I couldn't sleep on either side, let alone my back. I had to sleep sitting up. The pain late Tuesday night was so excruciating that we called the nurse's line and they scheduled me in for a morning appointment.

I woke up having not slept, in immense pain, concerned about what was going on. I went to the doctor Wednesday morning, explained what was going on, and the nurse practitioner got out the ultrasound. And then, "Well, I wasn't expecting that!"

Yes. The baby had flipped. Just. Like. That. We canceled the version appointment and as of this past Thursday, baby was still properly positioned -- head down.

Now, whether you believe in segulahs or not, you have to admit that's pretty crazy, right?

So last night, I decided to embrace another segulah. It's the tradition of some to go to the mikvah during the ninth month of pregnancy as a segulah for an easy labor and birth. Now, my experience with Asher tells me that I can use all of the help, prayers, and good luck possible.

The funny thing about going to the mikvah is that 95 percent of the time you can't and shouldn't write about it. When you're going to the mikvah, it's usually because you're coming out of being niddah, and you don't want the whole world knowing your menstrual cycle. The 5 percent of the time you can talk about mikvah is either when you're converting to Judaism or taking a dip for the purposes of changing your situation, position, or cleansing yourself to prepare for birth.

So last night, I went for a dip in the mikvah. What happens is that you go to the mikvah, take a quick shower (no intense prep), then go dip in the mikvah dunking only once. There is no special prayer to say, and you don't say the normal mikvah blessing. You can say whatever you want to HaShem, and that's what I did. I asked for an easy labor and birth, a healthy child ... and that was that.

Furthermore, there's a segulah for a woman who has had trouble conceiving to go into the mikvah after a woman like me. Unfortunately, no one went in after me. But it got me thinking: What if you show up at the mikvah for your normal visit and unknowingly go in after a woman in her ninth month? And then bam! You're pregnant! What luck, eh?

Now, we wait. This baby is meant to show up before Shavuot, and I'm praying that it's sooner rather than later.

Blob Watch 2016 begins!

Oh Come On! The Blob is Breech

Well, this has truly been a pregnancy for the books, and we're in a state of breech, still. The Blob doesn't seem to want to turn, so we've begun with the segulot. 

Segulah (also written segula; plural segulot) literally means a "remedy" or "protection" in Hebrew. The term is pronounced suh-goo-luh.

In Judaism, a segulah is viewed as an action that will lead to a change in one's luck, fortune, or destiny.

In Judaism, there is a segulah for just about everything under the sun. Having children, overcoming bad luck or illness, making more money, finding a job, picking out the right religious garments ... you get the idea. 

With a breech baby, there are a bunch of different things that you can do to hopefully turn the baby, the most common and prominent being the typical ones: check your mezuzot (the parchments placed on the doorposts of the home) to make sure they're still viable and not upside down and make sure your seforim (books) aren't upside down. 

The funny thing is, we should have checked our mezuzot before we even moved into the house, because after the balagan of buying the house and having some interesting challenges securing a mortgage, we came to find out that the mezuzah on the front door of the house (the guy who owned it was Jewish) was not only no longer usable, but it was also upside down. Yikes. 

So we checked the books, or at least, we thought we'd checked the books. And everything was upright and accounted for. Then, a Chabad friend mentioned to me that they did the same only to discover later that the slipcover on a book had been right-side up while the book was upside down, so I told Mr. T we needed to check them again. 

Lo and behold, he discovered that three of the machzorim (prayer book for special Jewish holidays) from his grandmother were upside down in a bookcase that is mostly filled with non-Jewish books. BAM! 

Will the baby magically turn now before my version procedure on Friday where we go to the hospital and a trained physician attempts to turn the baby from the outside? I sure hope so. Everything I've read and heard about the procedure has me on pins and needles, terrified at the outcomes (or non-outcomes) and excruciating pain. 

But after last time, I really, really really really don't want to have to go through another c-section and the recovery process. I just don't think that I can take it. 

In the meantime, I'm hauling tuches to get work in order so that when this baby does show up (and for some weird reason I keep getting the feeling that The Blob will be early and that this is going to also be a hard birth), that my coworkers are good to go and not left in the dark. It's a huge undertaking of writing, scheduling, curating ... and my brain is totally mush right now. 

Babies do weird things to your brain, your heart, your body. I can't get over how important the role of women, and mothers specifically, is, and how little I understood went into it before undertaking this journey first with Asher and now with The Blob. I also still can't get over how little respect and consideration is paid to mothers around the world, but specifically in the United States. 

I'm Terrified: How to Love and Parent Two Children

Although I really, truly prefer winter, for some reason there are a lot of tastes, scents, and sounds that hold a special place in my heart and send me swirling back to various points throughout my childhood and college years.

We live near a high school, where just about every day there is some kind of sporting event going on. For me, the sound of a baseball hitting a metal bat delivers me to the days when I lived on the baseball field because either my dad or older brother were playing. Starbucks trips this time of year remind me of when I was in college and worked as a New Student Enrollment leader and would get a grande iced mocha just about every morning, the whipped cream melting into the cold drink creating swirls and clouds. A trip to Home Depot had me hearing the sounds of outdoor wind chimes, reminding me of summer nights listening to the neighbor lady's chimes ringing out with a passing breeze. And, of course, freshly mowed grass -- one of my least favorite smells of all time -- is so prevalent that it reminds me of growing up in a home with a mom and a dad and two brothers, one of which mowed the lawn begrudgingly on the hottest days while I avoided the sun inside.

Back in those days, I hated being outside in the heat. These days, I cherish days where I can sit outside and work in the sun.

---------

Something odd happened a few nights ago when I went to bed too late and couldn't fall asleep. Tossing and turning because of the extreme discomfort of this pregnancy, it suddenly hit me: I only have about a month left where Asher is my only child. Just weeks left where he is the absolute center of my universe and the only little human that I have to share my life and my love with. The smack of reality that soon he'll be moved slightly to the side so that I can love and nurture a second child still stings. I don't know why I hadn't considered the reality before. How does a parent love two children? How does a parent find a space for two little humans in her life?

The love of my life.

To be frank I'm terrified. Asher has been all I've had and all I've known in my life. When iBoy entered my world, he was old enough that he didn't need me in the same way that a baby, toddler, child does. He didn't rely on me for everything from food to putting on shoes to kissing a boo-boo to ushering away scary bumps in the night.

Asher is my world. When Mr. T was gone for nine months, the reality hit me that I would be happy with just my little man forever and ever. If I never had another munchkin, my heart was full and I'd be fine. And, even though I've been pregnant for months, I've still been living with that reality.

I'm scared that I've given him to prominent a place in my heart and mind, that when this new little one shows up that I either won't be able to give it the love and attention it needs or that I'll be completely unable to provide that love and attention to Asher. As I said, I'm terrified.

Is it something normal a parent faces with a second child? Does it just work, like everything else in pregnancy, child bearing, and rearing? Do you just figure it out?

How do you love and parent two children?

It's Passover Again, and I've got PTSD

Oh Passover. After last year's miscarriage three days before Passover and breaking my foot walking to the first-night seder (and not realizing it was broken for the first two days, so walking around on it), I think that I've got Passover PTSD.

Yes, for the first time in my Jewish life, I'm responsible for the Passover seder. Since we're in the U.S., that's two nights of seders, folks.

Note: The seder is the festive Passover meal that begins with a lengthy retelling of the Israelite Exodus from Egypt and the miracles therein. Jews use a haggadah (a book of sorts) to retell the Passover story. There are certain foods you're required to eat during the retelling, and by the time the meal actually arrives, many people are all full up on salt water and parsley and lettuce and wine and, of course, matzah. 

Theoretically we could have gone out the first night, but the reality is that because of that extra month (yes, it's a Jewish leap year), Passover is starting crazy late now and Asher is a creature of habit that I cannot and will not mess with. So the seder starts after bedtime and the Ash man will be fast asleep for mommy's sanity. For the second night, we're having a couple over, and it's what I'm calling the "make up for the first night seder with just the two of us where I fall asleep at the table with a face full of gefilte fish" seder. Yes, the first night it's just the two of us, and my husband has a glowing spirit that is full of stories and singing and ... seder is his jam. I'll let you know how the "just the two of us" seder goes, but I have a feeling it's going to be super disappointing for him. I wish I could pull a couch up to the table.

So the PTSD. There was a giant kitchen fiasco last night that left three dishes I'd made in the "dairy" category because I used real butter, and before you say, "Wait, don't you have a vegetarian house?" the reality is that yes, we're vegetarian, so normally it's not an issue, but we have a guest coming whose custom it is to have meat on seder night, so I acquiesced and ... disaster. Now, the meat seder we're having is slim pickings on food, and that just is what it is and it will be what it will be. Add to that being super preggers and having several jobs and having terribly swollen feet and a toddler running around and a husband who works at the kosher deli (busiest time of year) and who is responsible for fixing the local eruv (thanks, fluke snowstorm last week that tore it down in 17 different places and required 6 hours of fixing today) ... and I broke down last night.

I cried. I was overwhelmed and exhausted and I lost my #@$*. I know, I know. Stress isn't good for the baby. Over exertion isn't good for the baby.

So I think I've finally come to terms with the reality that Passover is just a few hours a way, and it just is what it is. My table isn't set, and as I watch friends post pictures of their beautiful Passover tables with real dishes and real silverware and real glasses I feel kind of lame. I'm 32 years old and don't have Passover stuff. But it's my first time hosting, actually needing those things. In my last marriage and in this marriage, I've always happened to be out or away or just not at home for the seders, let alone the rest of the week.

Someday I'll be a Jewish adult woman with actual stuff for Passover. Someday ...

Anyway, as I come to terms with Passover, I'm also starting to get excited about Shavuot. It's not just because I love cheesecake, but it's because it's my favorite holiday, as it's what I call the "convert's holiday" because Jews read the Book of Ruth. Man I love Shavuot. I loved it even more when I got to stay up all night and teach. Unfortunately, The Blob is showing up on the eve of Shavuot, so who knows how it's going to go down this year. Either way, here's a good read to prep you for Shavuot.

And now? Maybe I should get the toddler-in-a-diaper next to me in the bath and set the seder table, eh? I can't wait for the gefilte fish. And I'm not even kidding.

Ask Chaviva Anything: Parenting, Jewish Books, and Jewish Conversion!

It's been a while since I got my Ask Chaviva Anything on, so it's about time. I can't seem to find an easy theme with the questions I have remaining, so we'll call this a grab bag edition. Ready? Let's do this. 

My husband and I are also thinking of having a baby number two. With the first one I stayed at home for almost three years, now we are thinking that I'd stay home for the first year and my husband for the second. You mentioned that daycare is very expensive in USA, but that you make quite good money while your husband makes less. I'm just curious, would it be possible for your hubby to stay home with the kids and you bring in the dough?

Although it's a great idea, we tried this when we first moved to the U.S. because Mr. T couldn't legally work until he received his work permit/green card. The truth is, neither Mr. T nor I are cut out to be full-time stay-at-home parents. Also, we need to be a two-income family (whether here or in Israel) to make things work, and Asher is ultimately a much happier kid the days that he's at daycare. He sleeps better, he's happier, and he's growing into an immensely empathetic and social little kid. In the end, everyone benefits in their own way from our situation. As for No. 2, we'll see how it impacts the current situation and go from there. Stay tuned!

Can you recommend a nonfiction book or two with Orthodox characters? And I miss Ask Chaviva Anything, please write soon!

Aww, thanks for the kind words! As for a book, you want nonfiction with Orthodox characters? Or fiction with Orthodox characters? I'm a bit confused. There are a ton of nonfiction books about Orthodox topics (a lot of biographies and things like Crossing the Borders of Time), but if you're looking for fiction books with Orthodox characters, anything by Tova Mirvis or Cynthia Ozick, honestly. I've been reading The Boston Girl, but the main character and her family wouldn't really qualify as Orthodox by today's standards, necessarily (some go out for lobster on Shabbat). Have you read The Nightingale? It's also a really great read, based during WWII. Also, check out this list over here that walks through fiction throughout the years. If I missed the mark on your question, just let me know! Also, take a look at the archives for "Book Review" here. 

Did you grow up religious and if not what brought you to your path?

Not only would I say I didn't grow up religious, I didn't grow up Jewish. In a nutshell: My parents raised me smartly on the Golden Rule, despite the fact that the first half of my life we were in the Bible Belt of Southern Missouri and the second half in Nebraska. All of my friends were immensely religious (in both locations), so I attended Vacation Bible School, church on occasion (especially in high school), and so on, but we were never a religious family. Easter and Christmas weren't about Jesus, they were about the common, American secular traditions. From there ... check out my posts and essays I wrote about how I got to Judaism and ended up Orthodox. 

Have a question? You, too, can Ask Chaviva Anything! Just fill out this form. 

 

Review: Sweet Note Bakery Gluten-Free Bagels

Holy (Bagel) Grail! There are a few things that I've slowly been coming to terms with never being able to get gluten free that taste good, let alone edible. The two big ones are baklava (and anything made with phyllo dough) and bagels. Most of the bagels I've had from brands like Udi's taste like eating air -- tasteless, unsubstantial, and just not worth it.

And then? Sweet Note Bakery The Greater Knead!. I'm trying to remember (with my intensely active baby brain) how I found them, and I think it might have been a Facebook ad, but I'm not entirely sure. I saw a small bakery making gluten-free bagels that happened to be kosher, and I reached out. A quick connection later and I had a box full of gluten-free bagel goodies on my doorstep. Cinnamon Raisin. Everything. Plain.

Then I ate them all over the next few weeks with the enjoyment of someone who unearths a classic family recipe a dozen years after it was lost. These bagels are divine, and unique.

They're smaller than most of the gluten-free bagels on the market, and they're more substantial in weight and flavor, too. They don't taste like a fluff of air; you actually feel like you're eating a bagel.

The trick to these bagels? You have to follow the directions -- no swaying from the path. The ladies behind Sweet Note know what they're doing, and they know that storage and reheating can be the enemy or best friend of gluten-free baked goods. I attempted to warm a bagel up on the plata on Shabbat, and it ended in disaster (I was so bummed that I wasted a bagel).

It's all about freezing the bagels. Putting them in the microwave for 60 seconds to soften them up, and then toasting them ... yes. Perfection. So good. So much flavor, so much substance, so filling.

I can't say enough about these bagels. I'm going to do everything in my power to try to get them into some local shops because, even I can admit, the price is a bit of a sticker shock when it comes to shipping (because they need to stay frozen for integrity, overnight is the only option, which is expensive).

Have you tried Sweet Note? Is there another kosher, gluten-free bagel that I should be eating that I'm missing out on? 

Mommy Shabbat: Man Plans, G-d Laughs

The past few weeks have been a bit insane, and basically until The Blob shows up, things are going to continue to be pretty insane, what with Purim tomorrow and Passover coming up next month. Then it'll be June and I'll be launched into a world of having two kids under three. Good times!

It all began a few weeks ago when I ended up staying alone over Shabbat in a hotel airport in order not to miss an 8 p.m. flight after Shabbat to Austin, TX, in order to attend SXSW Interactive. I've stayed in plenty of hotels over Shabbat, but those hotels were in ... Israel! Where everything just works. You can enter your room with a real key, there's no weird automatic lights or doors, the dining room serves food for Shabbat, there's a synagogue in the hotel, and everything is super easy. For this stay, I had to organize a food delivery from the local deli for dinner and lunch, make sure I got to the hotel well before Shabbat to figure out where the automatic things were and what lights I could leave on and off, and to make sure the staff were prepared for me. Add to this the fact that the hotel had only been open a few months and ... what a time I had.

Aside from the logistics and having to "check out" at 4 p.m. and spend the next 3 hours in the lobby waiting for Shabbat to end, there was a great sense of loneliness of Shabbat. I went into it thinking I'd have a super relaxed "Mommy vacation," a chance to kick back, sleep a bunch, and read trashy magazines and a good book over those 25 hours. But the truth was, it was a lot of empty time where I felt a bit stir crazy. Once I was in the lobby, I got to do some fun people watching, and I got halfway through a book, but eating alone in a fairly sterile hotel room wasn't fun.

Would I do it again? Probably not. Would I do it in Israel again? Yes. A million times. So easy.

So Shabbat ended around 7 p.m. and my flight was at 8 p.m. I zipped off to my gate and made it in time for the flight to Austin, where I arrived around 11 p.m. ... the night before the Daylight Savings change. Once I arrived at the group house I was staying at, I schmoozed for a bit and then crashed hardcore like a very pregnant mother would.

About as wild and crazy as I got at SXSW.
Wearing a lei at a Tiki Bar party. 

And then? SXSW Interactive. I attended in 2010, 2011, and a very memorable 2012, but hadn't been back in four years. Showing up at one of the most booze-filled, energy-draining festivals ever at nearly 7 months pregnant with a husband and toddler back at home was a pretty big culture shock. I remember SXSWi from years gone by, and I spent a lot of time waiting in lines for the big parties, drinking, and staying up all hours of the day.

This time around, I was home most nights and in bed by 9 p.m., exhausted with swollen feet, a headache, and no desire to party until the cows came home. I felt completely lame, considering my housemates were up until around 4 a.m. most nights, but hey, I'm a mom. An overworked mom. Sleep is a commodity. I was also a bit turned off by the entire thing this year because it's become incredibly and predominately corporate in the past four years, and not just tech corporate. McDonalds had a house. Why does McDonalds need a huge presence at SXSW? I don't know. They had a virtual reality Happy Meal experience for the love of Pete. I don't mind a Mashable House, but McDonald's? No thank you. The whole thing just made me feel ... dirty. SXSWi was big when I used to go, but now it's turned into some type of unstoppable corporate monster.

Overall, I totally thought that Shabbat and SXSWi were going to be a huge "vacation" for me, but they ended up being harder work than juggling work at home with a toddler. It's definitely a truth that man plans and Gd laughs. Despite it all, however, it was a ton of fun. I just probably wouldn't do it the same way again.

Start Spreading the News: We're Moving!

So we've been living in an epicly rotten apartment complex for the past year and a half, and we found out recently that our lease would not be renewed (because, well, our desire to have a dishwasher that was actually mounted and electric outlets that actually worked and fixtures that weren't falling off the walls -- all in a "newly renovated space," meant complaints, and they didn't like those complaints and having to fix the problems). We assessed our options, and the reality was that the only other apartments within the Orthodox community were too far down the road to be a part of the kehilla (community), especially with the isolation of a new baby coming for me. 

So. What to do? We turned a potentially terrible situation into something awesomely positive!

Well, Mr. T sold his flat in the UK late last year, which left us with a bit of a down payment that was originally meant as our Israel house fund. But let's just say that the amount was not even a drop in the world's largest bucket of Israeli housing costs, so we made the executive decision to pursue the purchase of a home. We technically began looking in the fall, but because of Mr. T's recent re-arrival in the U.S. and lack of work history and my own unique financial background, we were not in any position to even ask the most giving of banks for a mortgage. 

So we waited until quite literally the last possible minute, were blessed with the world's most amazing loan officer at a local bank (whose owners support Israel wholeheartedly) who crafted a completely custom mortgage for us, as well as an amazing realtor, and we closed on a home yesterday, Monday, March 7, 2016. It was ... well, a bit of a process where I felt in over my head about 99 percent of the time, but Mr. T had been through it before and our realtor was outstanding and dealt with my neurosis and countless questions and concerns. 

The house? It's a little single-family, three-bedroom home in the community with a re-finished basement and quite a few nice renovations. It has a huge back yard with a shed and it's just a few blocks from Asher's daycare and our synagogue and most of our friends. It's small, but it gets the job done, and as soon as we can figure out how to make a dining room and living room out of one small space, I'll be able to rest easy. 

So what does this mean for Israel? Well, the reality is that the Denver housing market is on the up and up constantly, which means (b'ezrat HaShem -- with the help of Gd) we'll be able to sell nicely or when we are prepared to move back to Israel we'll have a steady monthly income from renting the home out. But neither of us are up for making it back to Israel without a financially sound plan to support our growing family. 

Truth be told, I'm still in a bit of shock. We're moving on Thursday, and then I'm spending Friday through Wednesday on the road for work at SXSW Interactive in Austin, TX, leaving the boys with a house full of boxes to be emptied. Moving, after all, is one of my least favorite things in the world and gives me immense anxiety. Large volumes of things being packed and shifted just ... I don't know. It messes with my nerves. And being super preggers, no thank you. (My husband is a saint for taking on this task, seriously.)

I honestly never thought I'd be a homeowner. I grew up with parents who rented, and I've rented my entire life. In my last marriage, my ex had two properties in his name, but nothing was in my name, so I didn't know what it felt like to say "I'm a homeowner." 

Does this make me an adult? Am I grownup now? Here's to a new home for a new baby and plenty of celebrations of good, happy, positive things!

Congrats to the Necklace Winner!

First of all, sorry it took me nearly two days to draw a winner ... I've discovered a wacky issue with mobile comments on the blog, and the wacky issue is that you simply can't comment on a mobile device. I attempted to make it happen, it failed, and I'm sorry. In 2016, mobile reigns supreme, and the inability to comment on mobile really bums me out. So. Sorry!

Anyway, congratulations to Mor S. (a Denver friend and most-excellent mama) for winning the giveaway! In case you see this,  Mor, please send me an email at kvetching dot editor at gmail dot com.

In other news: I'm now Facebook "verified" as a personality. Eegads. I'm like, famous or something. Wait, no, I just went through the Facebook Mentions process of verification. But a girl can dream, right?

Shabbat Shalom y'all!

Giveaway: Personalized Silver Name Necklace!

For a long time, one of the classic bat mitzvah gifts handed out was the personalized name necklace, usually in Hebrew, and usually retrieved from the Holy Land, so elusive to American Jews. I want to say this was during the 1970s and 1980s, because by the time the 2000s rolled around and I hit Israel in 2008, the jewelry stores along Ben Yehudah Street were selling them second hand. I thought the trend had died, but the truth is with Sex and the City and the Carrie necklace being ever-so-popular for all time, personalized name necklaces are -- and will always be -- popular and beloved.

Although I don't have one myself, I do have the uniquely hand-crafted necklace that Mr. T gave me for our anniversary and a simple name necklace that I got years and years ago from Sima Gilady jewelry (that, honestly, I take off maybe two or three times a year at the most).

So I thought to myself, wouldn't it be nice to give the gift of personalized jewelry to one of my readers? Yes, yes, I thought to myself, it would be nice. Enter the folks at Name Factory, who are helping me give away a personalized silver necklace (value up to $42) just for you!

And because I know how much people love entering giveaways with ease, all you have to do is comment on this post telling me which of the necklaces on the site you'd love to call your own (or to gift to a friend, daughter, mother, your dog, you get the drift).

Ready? Set ... GO!

Note: This giveaway ends on Wednesday, February 17, 2016 at noon MDT. 

The Anniversary Gift

When I was a kid, and we went out to restaurants where they still put paper on the table and gave out crayons to the kids to entertain them, my dad used to draw the same image over and over. No matter where we went, the time of day, or the mood he was in, he always drew a tree. It was a bare-branched tree, no lush leaves, but it always managed to capture something special about my dad. As time went on, and I became a doodler, the tree became a common theme for me. It was the same: no leaves, just bare branches.

Awhile ago, Mr. T asked me to draw him a picture of the tree I always sketch. Being generally grumpy and overworked most of the time, I brushed him off and said I'd do it eventually. He started bringing a piece of paper and pen over to me and asking me to do it. He said he wanted to make a paper cut or something with it, and after several tries I acquiesced and drew him the tree.

Then, he gave me this.

Our anniversary is February 20, or Erev Ta'anit Esther on the Hebrew calendar (that means, because this year is a leap year on the Jewish calendar, we celebrate the Hebrew date in March), but he wanted to give it to me early. He'd managed to hide the whole project from me (which is hard to do), and I never thought to ask him what had come of the tree.

If you can't read Hebrew, or read really, really small writing, the necklace says the following:

• 02/20/2013 חביבה טוביה (That's Chaviva and Tuvia written in Hebrew.)
• אשר יצחק 12/19/2013 (That's Asher Yitzhak written in Hebrew.)

It's my very own, super unique (just like my husband) family-based necklace charm, which I'd wanted for some time. And, there's space up another branch for The Blob (that's what we're calling the baby I'm brewing). 

I was really overwhelmed and surprised! And, of course, now I'm thinking "How am I going to match this!?" Here's to you, Mr. T. 

Happy Birthday Mr. T!

Asher was such a grumpy-looking baby
two years ago, wasn't he?

Three years ago, we'd known each other fewer than two months, were engaged, and were less than a month away from getting married. I spent Mr. T's birthday sick as a dog on his couch, with him making me chicken soup and honey-lemon-ginger drinks by the gallon. His thoughts on the experience of me being sick on his birthday, "Love is not caring about snot."

Two years ago, we celebrated twice, once at our favorite restaurant in Israel, Bodega (yes, there's now Mexican food in Israel) in Efrat, sparklers and all. Then I made his favorite soup, Salmon Chowder, and a chocolate cake for his birthday at home.

One year ago, he was a million miles away and we spent his birthday apart. I sent a card, and I think I sent a Metal Earth for him to build (he loves those things), but it was just another lonely day apart.

This year, I gave him the most hilarious of books, and he's going to spend the morning checking the eruv, the late morning and early afternoon doing some work on someone's house, and then going into the deli for the evening. It's not perfect, and we won't see much of each other, but it's better than a million miles.

Happy birthday to the kindest, most genuine, and most giving person I've ever known. Mr. T would bend over backwards to find a way to help someone -- emotionally, financially, you name it. And I'm happy to report that Asher is following 100 percent in his father's footsteps, and I couldn't be more proud.

Here's to as many more as we can manage, Mr. T.

Ask Chaviva Anything: Parenting and Jewish Divorce

Some great questions rolling in, and I'm so glad I get to answer them. Let's start with what might seem like a tough question, but one that actually has a pretty simple answer.

Hi Chaviva! My question is how would you handle a situation where Ash decides to be less religious or non-religious? I wonder because you fought so hard to become Jewish, so I can imagine that it would be a really sensitive situation for you. Would you accept him if he was not religious? Or mourn him? How would you try to bring him back to Judaism?

Once upon a time, after a very difficult marriage and divorce, I was left spinning, unsure who I was or what life was meant to look like. During that time, I made some questionable choices and ended up dating someone who was not Jewish (this was a few years after my Orthodox conversion, so I was, for all intents and purposes, a Jew). When it was revealed that I was dating a non-Jew (while still keeping kosher and Shabbat), I received hate mail, calls for my conversion to be revoked, comments on blog posts saying that I was the "worst thing to happen to Judaism," and harassment from people who had once been friends (mostly other converts, too). I was being pushed and shoved away from the Judaism that had so nurtured my soul and given me a home. I was being told I was not a Jew, I was being distanced from my family. 

But there were, during this time, a few (religious) friends who pulled me close. They sent me notes, they checked in on me, they reminded me that I had a home, that I was loved and that Judaism was not rejecting me. They gave me the nurturing and love that I needed to make the right decisions at the right time, and they allowed me to return. I really learned who my real friends and family were in Judaism, and I learned who was toxic and insincere. 

What this taught me, this entire experience that still hurts and stings to this day, is that Judaism teaches us that when someone strays or makes choices that don't necessarily jibe with Torah Judaism, we pull them close, we give them a space. If you push them away, they'll just move farther and farther away until they're lost in the crowd. The often-quoted adage is "hate the sin, not the sinner," and those who truly understand Judaism and HaShem hold tightly to that dictum. 

So, long story short ... I grew up not Jewish and found my way here. Mr. T grew up fairly Jewish, attending a Jewish day school and then a boys school and then had some wild and crazy teen years before returning in his early 20s. We've both lived our lives and experienced things that those who are FFB (frum from birth) perhaps not, and that gives us a unique perspective. Sure, I'd love for all of my kids to be as religious as us, but there's always the possibility that they'll be more or less observant than us, and I'm okay with that. Judaism is a journey, and as long as I do my job and give my kids a healthy view of Judaism and the outside world, they'll choose what is right for them and I'll respect that. I'll hold them close, give them a nurturing environment where they know that they are loved for who they are, no matter the choices they make. They will always have a home. 

Next question!

Thank you for admitting that you seeked marriage counseling! Did you and your ex-husband ever go through counseling? How was that experience different? I've been reading for years but I guess I still don't understand why you got divorced. It worked out for the best obviously but I can't help but be curious since it seems rarely discussed in the Orthodox world.

I've actually written about it before, I'm pretty sure. I was much less open during my last marriage. All of our struggles and trials were kept quiet and out of the public eye, contrary to how I live much of my life. My in-laws were shocked, absolutely no one knew it was coming because darn if we weren't good at putting up appearances. I was depressed, anxious, and embarrassed that it wasn't working, but I managed a smile when I needed to. Of the 16 months we were married, we spent a year of that in couples counseling, with me in additional counseling on the side. Despite that, it just wasn't meant to be. It took a meeting with a rabbi, who posed an ultimatum to my ex. When he responded with "I'd like to think I'd choose my marriage," I knew it was done. I had to make the decision, and I did. 

Believe it or not, divorce is actively encouraged in the Jewish community (in the Orthodox world anyway), because if things aren't working out (for any number of reasons), both individuals have the right to move on and give it another go. There are even discussions about how one merits a series of partners (read about it: A Zivug or Bashert?). 

Hope this provides some semblance of clarity!

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Ask Chaviva Anything: Reunited, but How Did It Work?

So I've received two questions after re-opening one of my favorite features. The first question was "How often do you poo?" and the answer is, I'm pregnant. What do you think? Not enough!

Now for the serious question, and this is a really amazing question, so thank you to the asker!

Hi Chaviva, you never wrote how you worked things out with Mr T, after being apart for so long. You have a baby coming, so you've clearly (probably?) found each other again, but it couldn't have been easy. So did you just let it happen, or did you take some conscious steps? Couple's therapy? I'm really interested because I'm currently in a long-distance relationship and a bit apprehensive (though excited) about living finally together.

The interesting thing about this question is that I thought a lot more about this while Mr. T was gone than when he actually got back. We talked a lot about how hard it was going to be, and despite the fact that things were seamlessly easy the two times we saw each other in person during those nine months, they were just visits. 

When you don't live with someone for a month, or two months, or nine months, you get into a flow. Asher and I had a very firm schedule, our day ran like clockwork and I knew that I was responsible for all of the household chores, cooking, and I didn't have the misconception that someone else was going to show up so I could ask them to help. It was all on me, and I got good at taking care of a toddler and running the house and working full time. My home was a well-oiled machine. 

Being that my personality is very "I am a rock, I am an island," this was a very dangerous place for me to be. It took me a long time to warm up to asking for help, and meaning it, and accepting it, with Mr. T. So to fall out of that role and back into the "I'm doing it all myself, I don't need anyone" role created an environment that was not at all easy for Mr. T to walk back into. But when he got back, he needed to be needed, because he'd been gone so long, didn't have a job right away, and so on. 

Family photos over the weekend. They make it fun.

I don't think anyone can just let it happen. I tried really hard to think that letting it happen was the best way, but even though that worked for the first month, it got really hard after that. The conscious steps were necessary. He's been back a little over six months and we're still working on this. 

So I really had to force myself to ask for help, to stop doing everything myself, to need someone else. But it hasn't been easy. We've had a bit of counseling, and it was the good kind of "smack you in the face, you have to stop thinking he's a mind reader" kind of counseling.

Also, I had to really let go of the parenting side of things. It had been just me and Ash for nine months, and in those nine months he was eating like a normal person, growing teeth, learning to walk, starting to talk, the works. I was so overprotective of him when Mr. T got back that it was hard to step back and remember "Mr. T is his Tatty" (that's Yiddish for dad). I had to let him be a parent, too. I had to let him be alone with him, play with him, reunite with him, and grow with him, because he missed so many milestones that he can't replay or re-experience. I keep thinking, despite the (regrettable, frustrating) distance Mr. T experiences with iBoy these days, at least he got those moments with him. He'll never have those with Ash. So letting him be a Tatty was one of the major things I had to really give into. 

But the little things, surprisingly, take a long time to get used to. I find beard hair on the counter and I think, "Well, I went nine months without that driving me nuts." It can be frustrating, but it also makes me smile sometimes because the reality is that it's those little things that make it all worthwhile, cheesy as it sounds. You decide which things are worth fighting for, fighting about, and getting over. 

One of the best things I learned in counseling from a rabbi, actually, and this really changed my perspective on how to make things work after such a great divide. And, honestly, it works for just about any major relationship. 

You have three Ls in a relationship. You have no fourth L, so don't look for it, don't try and find it, it doesn't exist. 

• Lobby 
• Live with it 
• Leave

You can lobby for change, lobby for things to be different. If they don't or can't change, you move on to the next steps. You can decide to live with it (like the beard hair on the counter or the fact that my husband doesn't always put dishes directly in the dishwasher), or you can leave. It's as simple as that.

I spent 12 of my 16 months of marriage the first time around looking for a fourth L. I was desperate for a fourth L. Had someone (like one of the two counselors I was seeing) given me this relationship map, I would have been able to make a better decision a lot earlier. It was only when I had lobbied and lobbied, lived with so much, and not found the fourth L, that I decided it was time to leave. 

This perspective has helped, a lot. It puts everything into perspective, and because I'm a planner, it allows me to look at every issue we have with a fresh perspective. It's not easy, in fact it's been really, really hard since Mr. T got back, but seeing Asher light up when his Tatty comes home from work or watching him shove me back in the house on Saturday mornings when he and Tatty go to synagogue is so worth it. 

Hope this helps!

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Pregnant and Playing Powerball

I'll admit it, I played the Powerball over the weekend and I'm probably going to play it again. I actually walked into the 7-11 last week, looked the woman working the counter square in the eyes, and said, "I've never done this before, can you help me?" I'm a 32-year-old woman who doesn't know how to gamble.

This might not seem strange to 99 percent of you, but if you knew that my father has loved the lottery every day of my life, would that change things? I remember my dad's 40th birthday -- we got him these little bouquets of 40 scratch-off tickets. He's always played the Powerball, too, so I feel like I should have just known how it worked since I watched him play it so many times, choosing our birthdays as the numbers. But I blanked. The woman looked at me like I was nuts, too, which just made the experience all the more awesome. I had $2 in my pocketbook, so it was perfect. 

Did I win anything? Nope. 

Will I play again this week? Why not? 

After finding out just how much it's going to cost me to put both of my children in daycare in the coming year, I either have to win the lottery or cut food completely out of our diet. So, here's hoping HaShem is down with the Gordon-Bennetts this week. 

The funny thing is, this is the reality:

• I have amazing earning potential in the U.S., and with my current work, I make a really good amount of money. But daycare and rent in the U.S. are murder.
• In Israel, daycare is crazy cheap (rent is still murder), but I have basically zero earning potential. 

So. There's that. Mr. T, too, is sort of in the same boat. His credentials don't transfer here, so despite the fact that electricians make a killing in the U.S., he can't work legally as a master electrician, so he's relegated to hourly jobs. We're also reaching a point where he wants to transition to something that isn't so hands on (too many bad bruises and injuries), but the question is: What? 

I probably wouldn't be so obsessed with budgeting and figuring out how to win $1 billion if I didn't have another parasite on the way. Oy! Why does daycare have to be so expensive, 'Merica? 

Note: From everything I learned, prior to purchasing a ticket, it's completely okay in Judaism to purchase one ticket, and one ticket only, and many say you shouldn't pick your own numbers, lest it suggest you're questioning the fact that HaShem runs the universe. So there you go. 

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

Scrabble with Eliezer ben Yehudah, anyone?

Ah, Eliezer ben Yehudah, the father of modern Hebrew. My hero. I'll admit that his style of parenting was a bit bizarre. At a time when his version of Hebrew was not spoken widely, even semi-widely, okay let's be honest, no one really spoke it, he raised his son to speak only modern Hebrew. I'll be honest that my love of this linguistic genius arose during my time at Middlebury College when I was there for my intensive Hebrew ulpan during the summer of 2009, and every time I speak Hebrew I stop and consider whether it's one of his words.

The truth is, most of modern Hebrew is the same Hebrew that was used in the Torah, although a host of new words appeared because, well, words like "ice cream" didn't exist in the time of the Torah. That's where Eliezer ben Yehudah really shined. He used the biblical roots of words to build and craft a whole new addition to the language. In 1880 he said: “in order to have our own land and political life… we must have a Hebrew language in which we can conduct the business of life.”

Anyhow, the whole reason I'm posting this is because the cartoon above made me giggle with delight.  For those of you who don't speak or read Hebrew, I'll translate (reading from right to left, of course):

Title: It was really not fun to play Scrabble with Eliezer ben Yehudah.
Top right: "Your turn, Eliezer."
Top left: "Please, handkerchief, 44 points."
Bottom right: "What? That isn't a word!"
Bottom left: "Now it is."

Hilarious, right?!

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Hello 2016!

Wow. Just wow. It's 2016, which is a pretty significant year in the life of this blog, because:

• This blog began in 2006.
• I completed my Reform conversion in 2006.
• I graduated college with a bachelor's of journalism in 2006. 

So, I think, I'll just leave that there. No long, reflective posts about what happened in 2015, because I really just don't want to think about it, and no forecasting posts for 2016. I think I've finally hit an age where I'm not into resolutions for the secular New Year, and I'm not into reflecting on life and loss and triumph or anticipating those things in the new year.

The only thing I can hope for in 2016 is that the world gets its #*!$ together and people stop murdering, hating, and judging one another.

Just think, we're in 5776 right now, which means we're a mere 224 years away from 6,000, at which point, if we haven't gotten our #*!$ together, mashiach (the messiah) will be forced to show up for the Messianic Era. Now that's a real (scary?) thought.

Happy New Year, folks.

What is it About Christmas?

Christmas is such a weird time for me. At 32 years old, I've still spent more of my life in the world of American, secular Christmas than I have in accepting that everything's closed and the Jews stick to movies and Chinese food.

When I was in Israel, I lamented the fact that there weren't holiday lights or obnoxious Christmas carols played over loudspeakers everywhere I went. I love Chanukah and its lights, but in the U.S. the experience is isolated and not as public as it appears in Israel. In Israel, you see the lights of Chanukah everywhere you go, and it feels festive and celebratory. In the U.S., every night I was out during Chanukah I looked around at houses and apartments hoping to see a chanukiyah, but no dice. Not even in the "Jewish" areas I drove around.

Now, as it's Christmas day, I'm mourning the loss of the season because come January 1, people will start taking down their decorations, the festive seasonal American secular Christmas machine will shut down, and it will simply be winter again. I love winter, but there's a difference during December. A sense of joy. Come January, it's just grumpy people angry that it's snowing and cold.

Part of me wonders if I'll ever get over my love of the season. I think the things that paint our character and personality happen most aggressively in our childhood. If you experience something as a child, it sticks with you for life. The tastes, scents, emotions all stick with you forever. Things that you absorb in your 20s and 30s don't hit you as hard as they do when you're younger. It's the growing years, the time when your brain and emotional maturity are coming of age.

So, I suppose, the fact that I grew up in American, secular Christmas, never going to church on Christmas or Christmas Eve (save in high school when I went once because a friend was in a Christmas pageant and another time I went to "midnight mass" with another friend) with my family, will always paint my December experience. Luckily, I don't long for a Christmas tree stocked full of presents or a big feast of roladin (an old family dish of expensive, thinly sliced beef with onions and pickles wrapped up inside and cooked in a tomato stew sauce). I'm not sure what it is about it. The lights? The scents ...

Anyhow. Back to Shabbat cooking for me. Next year, thankfully, Christmas and Chanukah fall in sync, with Chanukah beginning on December 24, 2016. I appreciate when the holidays are inline. Do you?

Additional reading: From December 25, 2007, a turning-point event that shaped my conversion experience.

Giving Birth: Israel versus the U.S.

Last week, on December 17, Mr. T and I headed to St. Joseph's for a tour of the Center for Women and Infants. Oddly enough, exactly two years earlier, we visited Hadassah Ein Kerem for the first time because my water had broken and I was in labor with Asher. Two days later, he was born at 5:46 a.m. IST, and, if you recall, the entire labor and delivery and recovery experience was one of the most traumatic of my entire life ...

Part 1: The Labor

Part 2: The Recovery

So, imagine my nervousness and anxiety at visiting St. Joe's for the first time. So far, this pregnancy has been really difficult with endless bouts of nausea and exhaustion. Compare this with Asher, who was as chill as could be in the womb giving me no nausea and not killing my level of energy. I keep telling myself that a rough pregnancy will hopefully prove the opposite in the labor/delivery/recovery realm and I'll have a cakewalk experience. VBAC with no trouble, quick recovery, no drama, no trauma.

When we got to the hospital (and, mind you, my only hospital stay was with Asher and every other extended hospital visit I've ever experienced was visiting a family member or friend), I was blown away at how clean, bright, and warm the space was. At St. Joe's there's a completely separate elevator that takes you straight to the Center for Women and Infants ... to guarantee you go exactly where you need to go quickly.

On the fourth floor of the hospital, everything is done: labor, delivery, recovery, c-sections, you name it. They have separate spaces for any procedure or process involved in the birthing process, so you don't have to be shoved on an elevator and shipped somewhere else (*cough* HEK took me from wing to wing and floor to floor *cough*). The space is open, clean, airy, and the rooms are huge with lots of space, gigantic bathtubs ... you name it. But here, watch this video, it will provide a better explanation than I can:


Now before you go all "oh my gosh people gave birth standing in a wooden shanty for thousands of years, why do you need such a fancy space," let me tell you something ... after experiencing what I can only describe as third world care and attention and a commitment to mother/baby/family at HEK in Israel, I want all the bells and whistles the world has to offer because I think I've earned it. Beyond the nice space (not having to share it with another woman and her gigantic Moroccan family) and the fact that visiting hours are 24/7 so my husband doesn't have to be thrown into some cold, cavernous space without a blanket to sleep overnight, their attention to making sure mom and baby are together as much as possible as quickly as possible sings to me.

When I was in Israel, everywhere we were -- from hospital to the baby hotel -- nurses and caretakers treated me like I was insane because I wanted to have my baby in my room with me. They kept trying to take Ash away to put him in the nursery full of screaming babies, and I was flabbergasted. Telling this to our tour guide at St. Joe's, I was met with a response that they encourage and provide rooming in for baby as much as the mother wants. In the laboring suite, they even have the measuring equipment and all the initial testing stuff built into the room so that your baby doesn't have to leave the immediate vicinity. Also, in the laboring suite I was in at HEK, I had to walk down he hall to go to the bathroom ... no toilet in the room. Terrible.

Sigh of relief. And the food? It comes from the local kosher deli (where my husband works, where they know me, where they know how to produce gluten-free food that tastes good).

After being rolled into a general recovery area full of people vomiting and coughing in Israel and not getting to see my baby for the first six hours of his life, color me stoked at the chance to have this baby nearby immediately -- even in the case of a c-section, they do skin-to-skin contact immediately, and so much more.

I know I've only been on a tour, and what happens when I give birth will definitely provide a better compare/contrast situation when it comes to what I experienced in Israel versus what I'll experience in the U.S., but after meeting with the tour guide and seeing the facilities, I have no doubt in my mind which experience will be more mother/baby-centered and where the attention to family and wellness are emphasized.

As someone pointed out to me, in Israel, the process is routine, in America people want "fan fare." I don't want fan fare, I just want to see my baby immediately, be in a clean facility with privacy and the ability to bond with my child with my husband and other child at our side, with the ability to use my own bathroom and take a shower in private. This hospital saw 4,400 births last year. I'd say that they've got routine down pretty well.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I can't begin to describe how anxiety-inducing the memories of being at HEK and giving birth were ... I spent months recovering from the c-section, months where doctors should have done things differently to move the healing process of my c-section scar along more efficiently, but the Israeli healthcare system, as good as it is, doesn't always do routine as well as it does trauma and life-threatening crises care. (In my humble opinion.)

So we'll see what happens. My little trauma-inducing baby is now two years old, and as beautiful as can be. He's lively, has an attitude only a mother can love, and he's creative beyond his years. He's obsessed with dinosaurs, loves cooking in his play kitchen (he frequently makes cake and challah), and he loves drawing and creating art. I love him more than words, and I can't wait for another little person to join the family. I just hope this time around, I feel like I'm a vital part of the experience, too.

Have you given birth in the U.S. + another country? What was the experience like?

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The Saddest Way to End 2015

The most devastating way to end 2015? It's officially the first year since 2008 that I haven't spent at least 10 days in Israel. I'm just. Torn and sad and really unhappy about it.

2008 = StandWithUs Birthright Trip
2009 = Trip with the ex
2010 = Trip with the ex
2011 = ROI Community
2012 = Aliyah
2013 = Citizen of Israel
2014 = Citizen of Israel (left for U.S. in 04/15)
2015 = *sigh*

Yes, we are planning on moving back (after all, iBoy is there and it's our home). The question is how and when and where, and with the ramped up terror in Israel, especially in our preferred area of residence, it's hard to drop everything, hop back into a financial hole, and run back. 

Recently, the rabbi gave a moving talk on Shabbat about the balance of life in Israel, burying a teenager murdered by Islamic extremists/terrorists and celebrating a wedding (of a woman whose father and brother were also murdered by terrorists). After living through a season of rocket attacks in Israel, I felt I could handle anything. I survived the terror. But this terror? Stabbings and car rammings is a totally different ballgame. It isn't even blowing up buses, so you can say "avoid the buses." It's random, it's everywhere, it's terrifying. 

Having a child has made it even more so. My child needs me, I need him, survival is not an option. 

At the same time, mass shootings in the U.S. have risen this year, with practically one mass shooting for every day of the year. Some random, some motivated by Islamic extremism and terror. I live in a big city, with a proud and potent Jewish population. We haven't directly struggled, but what if we do? What if we could? 

I miss my home, but my heart is confused.