Jewish Motherhood: Starting Earlier Than Expected

It’s Magic No. 3 for The Jewish Motherhood Project, and we’re ringing it in with 32-year-old Yochana, who was 18 years old when she had her first and “barely out of high school.” Sometimes, the scariest revelation can become the greatest gift.

If you're looking for other posts in the project, check the archives. If you want to give your thoughts in the Q&A, click here.

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How old were you/what was your situation when you had your first child? 
I was 18 and barely out of high school. It definitely was not what I had intended. I was living with my boyfriend (now husband) and his mom and grandparents at the time. They had previously taken me in from a bad home situation.

Did you always want to be a mommy? Why or why not?
I wasn't really sure. I knew that someday I probably would, but at that time, I was actually considering joining the military.


What was your greatest fear when you found out you were pregnant? What was your greatest anticipation/excited feeling? 
I was terrified because I was so young. I had no support system of anyone my age who understood what I was going through. I had a fantastic support system in my husband's family and our friends in general, but no one my age who "got it."

How did your husband/partner and family react to you being preggo? 
My husband freaked out at first, understandably. He didn't handle it well. His family, whatever thoughts they had about it, shared only understanding. We were so anxious, and they were so supportive. I'm very grateful. My mom was supportive, but she was having a lot of her own struggles at the time.

What was your pregnancy like? 
Other than the ridiculous amount of weight I had gained (I threw caution to the wind with my eating; 13 years later I'm still paying for it), it was pretty uneventful.

How did you decide to start telling people you were preggo? Did you wait to reveal the gender? 
We told our immediate family and friends as soon as we found out. Neither of us were religiously observant at the time, so with every milestone, we shared the information. We chose a name I had wanted since childhood. Thankfully, the hubby also really liked the name.

How did the pregnancy affect your work, schooling, or family? 
I worked part time, so it had little effect. It definitely created a strain on the families because of our ages at the time.

In the days and weeks leading up to the birth, what do you remember experiencing or feeling? 
Anxiety. I was worried about screwing up, royally.

How did you infuse your Jewishness into the pregnancy/labor experience? 
At that time, I was unobservant, so I didn't. It was a very clinical delivery.

If you’ve had more children since your first, how were the experiences different? Were you more or less prepared? Was it harder or easier? 
My other two children came much later, nine and 10 years after, respectively. So while my husband and I were just as surprised (didn't think I could get pregnant, then thought baby number two was a fluke), we were much more prepared mentally and emotionally. By that time, we had become observant, so there was more to it spiritually.

What would be your three top tips for a first-time mother? 

1. You're going to get flooded with advice from everyone. Take it, don't take it, but listen, and consider its value. 
2. It's okay to ask for help. Don't think you have to do everything yourself. Asking for help could ease the anxiety a bit. 
3. Take it one day at a time. Don't stress too much about what happens later. 

Any advice from dad to other dads? 
Don't have any expectations, and make sure to remain patient — with everyone.

Is there anything else you want to add? 
I would not have planned my life as a mom this way, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. My husband and kids are amazing.

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Chavi's commentary: I can't even imagine how different the experiences of pregnancy and birth must have been between your first and second/third. It was probably very similar for iBoy's mom who had him in 2003 and his sister in 2012. And what little miracles they must have been. I have to give you mad props for entering mommydom so early on in life. I don't know how I would have handled a similar situation.

Long Awaited: How to Tie Your Tichel

I've had many requests, so I finally sat down last week and did this. Of course, then I neglected to take the time to edit the video and upload it, but I finally got to it and here we are!

In these two videos you'll see just what "the bump" really is and several different types of scarves I use with the bump and how I tie them.

If there's one thing you should walk away from these videos with, it's that it's not a perfect science and learning to roll and tuck those pesky pieces of scarf away will become a piece of cake.

The Bump: A How-To Guide (Please forgive my misspelling ... I'm under the weather!)


How to Tie Your Tichel 

Jewish Motherhood: Inform Thyself!

Shavua tov and chodesh tov! I got a bit backlogged last week, but we’re starting this week fresh with the second installment of the Jewish Motherhood Project. Our featured mom is 27-year-old Chloe. Check out her answers below and be sure to check out other installments on the blog. If you want to participate, find the Q&A here.

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How old were you/what was your situation when you had your first child? 
I was 21 when I got pregnant and 22 when my first child was born. I had been married a few months when I got a positive pregnancy test, and he was born just after our first anniversary! I was in the middle of my second year of a BA in English Literature at Bar Ilan University and conveniently gave birth during the winter break, so I just went back to school a month later. I hired babysitters to take care of him on campus while I was in classes, and I left for the five or so minutes it took to nurse him every once in a while. It was actually pretty easy.

Did you always want to be a mommy? Why or why not?
Always? I think I never really considered not having kids, it was just something I assumed I would do one day.

How did your husband/partner and family react to you being preggo?
Excitedly — all smiles. Thank God.

What was your pregnancy like?
My pregnancies were both mostly textbook, as were my labors. I've been quite lucky in that regard.

How did you decide to start telling people you were preggo? Did you wait to reveal the gender?
I always tell close friends and family early on, because my theory is that if I were to miscarry, those would be the people I'd need for support … so why not tell them? Plus we get to share the excitement. Same with gender. We spoke about names a few times during pregnancy but didn't decide definitively until right before the brit.

How did the pregnancy affect your work, schooling, or family?
It makes things harder because it's exhausting, you're always the wrong temperature (i.e., sweating mid-winter and no one will open a window) and always have to pee at inopportune times. In terms of school/work, the only annoying part is having to take off so often for doctors appointments. I missed basically one class a month in one course because I could only get appointments at that time.

In the days and weeks leading up to the birth, what do you remember experiencing or feeling?
Anticipation, excitement, anxiety.

How did you infuse your Jewishness into the pregnancy/labor experience?
Not really. I find the Jewish spiritual take on most things too "fluffy" for my tastes; it feels more real to connect to the life inside of me and then thank God for it.

If you’ve had more children since your first, how were the experiences different? Were you more or less prepared? Was it harder or easier?
Similar pregnancies, but I was prepared the second time, so that was easier. The nausea was harder because I had a 2-year-old to take care of while lying pathetically on the couch, but other than that, not bad. Labor was much shorter and easier in that I knew what to do.

What would be your three top tips for a first-time mother?

1. Read. As much as you possibly can. Inform Thyself. You are your own best teacher and advocate.
2. Hire a doula who will be there for you no matter what choices you make in labor.
3. When the baby is born, remember: everyone else can bathe, change, and diaper the baby, wash the dishes, make the food, sweep the floor, do the laundry. Only YOU can nurse the baby. Do so however often and for as long as you damn well please, no one else needs to feed the baby to bond with him/her. They can hold the baby while you shower, if you want. But it is YOUR baby! Remember that.

Any advice from dad to other dads?
Husband likes to say "Remember: Everything is normal." How's that for a foreshadowing of doom? :)

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Chavi's commentary: This Jewish mom's experience was so different than the first, I can only imagine how many different shades of motherhood I'm going to see during the span of this project. I have to give a nod to the doula comment, just because I initially thought "no doula, no nothing" because that's my personality (I can do it all!). But living in Israel and realizing how much the language barrier would probably make for a very intense birthing experience, I found a doula and I couldn't be happier. Also? I'm going to have a serious challenge with the helping out with the baby. I have this sinking feeling I'm going to be one of those possessive first-time moms. Why? Not sure. Probably that same A-personality rearing its domineering head. But like all things, you never know until you get there!

Jewish Motherhood: Moving Past Miscarriage

Welcome to the first installment of The Jewish Motherhood Project! This project/series is geared toward helping all Jewish moms, mums, mommies, imas, emas, and the bajillion of other flavors of mommyhood to discuss the shared experience of pregnancy and birth anonymously or semi-anonymously.

To participate, just head on over to the Q&A, and be sure to tune in every week for another installment. For my comments on this Jewish motherhood story, read on through to the bottom.

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For our first installment, we welcome a 28-year-old mother of one who, at the time of her daughter's birth, had been married for almost two years and was living in Jerusalem. She was not in school at the time, and both her and her husband were working very hard to make ends meet. The entire pregnancy process was quite the ordeal, so please keep reading.

Did you always want to be a mommy? Why or why not?
I always wanted to be a mom. I did not want to wait as long as we did, however, because of some medical circumstances and a miscarriage, we had our daughter around our second wedding anniversary. Ever since I saw my cousins being born and babies everywhere I couldn't wait to be a mom. I also wanted to do things very differently than how my own mother did so I could not wait.

What was your greatest fear when you found out you were pregnant? What was your greatest anticipation/excited feeling?
I was very excited when I found out I was pregnant. However, after suffering a miscarriage two months beforehand, I was nervous: I was scared to talk about the pregnancy, scared to be with my husband, and barely left my house until I passed the 12-week mark and was well into the second trimester. It was exciting to know that I was able to conceive again shortly after my miscarriage, and I was excited to know that a human was growing inside of me.

How did your husband and family react to you being preggo?
My husband was so excited. He loved every second of the pregnancy. My family also was very excited, especially the ones who did not and do not know the measures we went to in order to get pregnant safely the second time around.

What was your pregnancy like?
I had a miscarriage two months prior to conceiving my daughter. It was an early miscarriage, but it was the scariest thing in the world. At the time I was attached to the baby because I happened to have had an ultrasound already, but at the same time it was so small and almost microscopic still that it wasn't as bad to move on as I thought it would be.

When I got pregnant again, I was scared to do anything that could potentially hurt my baby. Each ultrasound and blood test was a huge relief and made me happier and more excited than before.

Something abnormal about this pregnancy? I was pregnant with triplets! The twins were in one sac and the third baby — my daughter — was in her own sac. The twins sharing a placenta and a sac were in severe danger, and I lost them at 14 weeks. On top of that, I had severe hyperemesis so I had to stay in the hospital for an IV at 11 weeks. On top of the emotions of dealing with possible triplets, the nausea was bad and every time I had an ultrasound everyone would come running to check out the babies.

In the end, true emunah saved both my and my daughter's life because those twins may have endangered her safety and health inside the womb. After I lost the twins I had to be very careful. I was on partial bed rest, and we told only our parents the situation. It was hard because on the outside everyone saw me as this cute pregnant girl but we were dealing with so much on the inside that it was very hard. It also took me a while to feel connected to the baby because I felt like I was walking on eggshells for so long. It wasn't until I entered into the third trimester that I started to relax.

How did you decide to start telling people you were preggo? Did you wait to reveal the gender?
We only told our family and very close friends about the pregnancy because of everything we have been through. I did not want to post any pictures of my belly on Facebook, so I emailed anything I had to share privately. When we actually gave birth and announced it, people were shocked because they had no idea I was pregnant. I liked it that way. I didn't want to shove my pregnancy in people's faces, giving them room to assume how easy it was, or typical, after everything we have been through.

How did the pregnancy affect your work, schooling, or family?
I had to take off a lot of days of work for my illnesses throughout the pregnancy, without revealing why. That was a bit difficult, but at the end of the day, it was worth it. I know some people in my work from outside the office, and I didn't want them knowing my business.

In the days and weeks leading up to the birth, what do you remember experiencing or feeling?
I remember sitting with my husband talking about how in a few weeks everything is going to change, and that here would be a baby around us 24/7. It was a weird feeling laying on the couch hanging out knowing that any day a person was going to change our life and things would be different. I was excited and nervous: I was going to meet my baby. I was anxious more about how and when I was going to go into labor than the actual labor itself. I was scared my water was going to break while I was in the store. In the end, the doctor broke it for me, so I am thankful for that.

How did you infuse your Jewishness into the pregnancy/labor experience?
I davened and talked to Gd a lot during the pregnancy, I did not read any specific book, and my labor was very painful. My epidurals did not work so I kind of "forgot" to do some davening while in the process. I did say some tehillim before I went in to deliver, and my husband and I said a special prayer from Tefilas Chanah upon being admitted to the hospital. There are also some special prayers for the husband to say in there, which mine did as we were waiting for admittance.

What would be your three top tips for a first-time mother?

1. A lot of people are going to tell you different things about raising the baby. Always go with your gut instinct. Refer to books, but know there are so many opinions and ways to do things.
2. Remember and treasure every moment. When I was cleaning out my bedroom a few years ago I found a calendar my mom made of all my milestones when I was a baby. I thought it was ridiculous, no one had looked at it in more than 20 years. But now, being a mom, I want to write everything my baby does down and remember it forever.
3. Nap whenever you can. And make your husband help :)

Is there anything else you want to add?
If your mother-in-law is constantly telling you what to do or not do, just smile and nod, and in her presence do what will make her happy. At the end of the day it's worth it — not making her mad — and when she leaves, you can go right back to doing things your way.

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Chavi's commentary: This is one seriously triumphant story. You're a strong woman for going through so much, and I can't imagine what a gift your little girl must be to you and your husband. May you both be blessed with as many children as HaShem has in store for you, may they all be healthy, happy, and full of the strength that you hold within! And I'm with you on the baby book thing. My mom kept one for my older brother and me, and that book is like a treasure trove of fascinating milestones like my first words, a piece of hair from my first cut, gifts I got when I was born, and more. Those are things that might not have been meaningful to 10-year-old or 15-year-old me, but at 30, I can tell you I love perusing those goodies.

You Asked, I Answered: The New Apartment

Yes, we moved -- again -- back in September to a new apartment and finally, at last, we rented out our old place after two months of double-paying on rent. The new place accommodates at-home workspace for me and space for the new baby while also giving iBoy his own space, too. The best thing, however, is that it gives us space to have people for Shabbat and to feed them properly, too.

Check it out:

It Begins: The Jewish Motherhood Project

You might remember The Tzniut Project from way back when, which was so incredibly fascinating, enlightening, and fun, so I thought it was time for a new project: The Jewish Motherhood Project.

You can respond to the questions anonymously or with your name, or if you want a pseudonym (always wanted to be a Tzippi?), feel free to include that, too. I'm looking for honest, candid responses from first-time moms and those with a brood of a dozen! Pass along the URL -- the more responses, the more interesting/revealing it will be about the world of Jewish motherhood.

Stay tuned for the posts right here on the blog, too!

The Coffee Break: Pumpkin Spice Latte at Home

Living in the U.S., I was never a super huge fan of Starbucks, mostly because my formative coffee drinking years took place in Nebraska where I frequented a local haunt called The Coffee House (aka Panache), where I'd spend up to eight hours a day studying and doing homework.

When Starbucks showed up, we shunned them.

But after I left Nebraska, Starbucks was an easy find. I discovered what I liked and didn't, and it was usually easy to find a place to sit for hours on end and soak up the free wireless access.

When I moved to Colorado I largely reverted to my local coffee shop hopping, but sometimes the local joints didn't have great wifi, so I was sent packing back to ole reliable where I'd get a Grande Starbucks Doubleshot on Ice (which, at 99 percent of stores, they'll tell you is not an available drink and that there is no button for it, but I know the recipe).

All of that being said, I was never a huge fan of their seasonal drinks, mostly because I'm not a huge fan of sweet and milky drinks.

At The Coffee House I started my adventures off with the sweetest treats they had like the Crunchy Cricket (a blended ice drink with creme de menthe and coffee beans) and their Irish Mocha (which was very milky and very sweet).

But as I progressed through my undergrad and money became more sparse, I realized I couldn't afford those drinks, so I'd buy the cheapest cup of freshly brewed coffee and take advantage of the super cheap refills. I learned to drink my coffee black, and I loved it.

These days, I usually take my iced coffee (קפה קר for those of you in Israel) black and my hot coffee with a bit of sugar and milk, but I'm going to attempt to take myself back to my origins with hot, black coffee.

But with the weather turning a bit and chatter on the web surrounding all things fall and pumpkins, I've been jonesing for a classic Starbucks treat known as the Pumpkin Spice Latte. I've probably had a handful of them in my life, but for some reason, the canned pumpkin in my cabinet was begging me to turn it into a coffee drink.

So I brewed up a strong cup of coffee and got to the pumpkin part.

I took 2 Tbls canned pumpkin, 1 cup milk, and 1 Tbls agave and put them in a pan over medium-high heat and brought to a boil. I mixed in a generous dose of nutmeg, coriander, and cinnamon (in the place of pumpkin pie spice), as well as a teaspoon of vanilla. Once it was well mixed with a whisk, I gave it a very hefty hand whisking to bring in some air bubbles (no frother over here).

I poured the coffee into my mug and poured the pumpkin/milk mixture in over top and mixed.

Then? I devoured. It was hot, spiced, and just the taste of autumn I needed but can't really get here in Israel, unfortunately. It's not exactly a latte, because I don't have a fancy espresso machine with a fancy wand or anything, but it got the job done, and when you're a world away from anything remotely resembling "home" as you once knew it, a fudgin' in a recipe is the best thing to do. (Also, this is much cheaper than the $4.50 I would have paid at an actual Starbucks location.)

What at-home coffee concoctions have you come up with to get that fix? 

Lech Lecha and Then?

The view from here. 

This week's Torah portion (aka parshah) is the classic trope for converts the world over: Lech Lecha.

At the ripe age of 75 years old, Avram (that's his name before he becomes Avraham) is commanded by G-d to leave home, to go forth from your land and your father's house, from everything you've ever known, to a land that will be revealed. Avram puts the ultimate trust in HaShem to guide him, but not without plenty of bumps and "hold on a second" moments along the way.

The promise, HaShem says, is that he will multiply Avram and bless him and his progeny and curse those who curse Avram and his kin.

The reason this parshah is so outstanding and emotional for converts is because Avram is, for all intents and purposes, the first willing convert. He hears G-d's calling and says, "Sure, let's do this" willingly and wholeheartedly while holding fast to his nature to battle with G-d over the things that he doesn't understand or agree with (just think about Sodom and Gemorah in Bereshit 18).

For me, this portion has always held a near and dear place, because coming from a place where I didn't know or grow up with any Jews, the "calling" (if you can even call it that) came as much from within as from without and the moment I felt it, life changed indescribably forever.

At this point in my life, where I think of myself so much less as a convert and more as just another Jew trying to find the right path and living how HaShem wants and needs me to, how do I relate to Lech Lecha?

Well, I'm mere days away from my one-year anniversary of aliyah (moving to Israel). Officially, the anniversary is October 16, I can't think of a more appropriate parshah.

Like Avram, I felt a calling (for years, folks, since at least 2008) to make Israel my home. I was being called to this land that was a mystery to me, even after frequent visits. The promise of finding a mate and starting a proper family stood waiting for me. So I packed up, left the land of my father, and arrived to the place that HaShem seemed to need me.

What happened? I was mated and started "multiplying" almost instantly. The amount of people I know who moved to Israel and got pregnant after some time of trying is equally astounding. There is something to be said to HaShem's promise to Avraham Avinu (our father), which continues to benefit the Jewish people thousands of years later.

Avram might have been the first to leave his comfort, his family, and start anew at the will of G-d, but modern aliyah is a true nod in the direction of the trope of Avram. It's hard, it's complicated, and we all end up screaming and crying in HaShem's general direction because of the roller coaster of emotions, finances, and reality that Israel really does do everything in her power to chew us up and spit us out. But we also learn to appreciate and experience the sense of community and family, the angels in our midst who would bend over backwards to make us feel at home, loved, cared for, and wanted.

Aliyah is not for everyone, but then again, not everyone can be an Avram, either.

So how do you bring Lech Lecha into your every day life? How do you go forth into the great unknown -- be it personally, emotionally, at work or at home? 

Shabbat Shalom everyone!

Inaugurating the Expanded Kitchen

I inaugurated my new kitchen this week (officially) by baking my first batch of gluten-filled challah for the husband, completely with a shehechiyanu, believe it or not.

Jonesing for a pot pie of some variety, I managed to find and execute probably one of the most savory and delicious things I've ever made that would make my simple, Midwestern kin pretty darn proud of me. I timed out the bits and pieces with making the challah, too, and I even came up with a clever way of making the challah in a single pot that relieves my poor KitchenAid from duty.

(Oh, and I also threw together some crockpot rice pudding, which I've been eating as a snack topped with milk, maple syrup, golden raisins, and pecans.)

I started with the most giant stewpot that you can find at Ikea, filled it full of 14 cups of flour and all the other ingredients, kneading the entire thing by hand (with gloves, of course ... I might need a face mask next time, too). Leaving it to rise, I tackled the first component of the pot pie: vegan mushroom gravy.

When the gravy was done, I punched down the dough and moved on to the second component of the pot pie: the gluten-free almond-based crust.

The crust was quick to throw together, so after I put it in the fridge to chill, I moved on to the veggie mixture for the pot pie.

I quickly threw together the gravy and veggies, nabbed the dough from the fridge and rolled it out, and put the pie together. Throwing it into the oven, I grabbed the challah and with my brand new huge kitchen counter space, began braiding the dough. For the first time in my life, the challah was braided quickly and ready to rise for the third time while the pot pie finished up.

The pot pie came out of the oven, the challah went in, and the husband and I devoured the goodness of a classic comfort food. Mr. T ate probably half the pie, which told me I was doing something right. I don't know how often I'll be making this pot pie, because it was a little time intensive (or maybe it felt that way because I was doing double-duty with the challah), but it was so worth it. The homemade gravy, especially, will come into play in the future whether over mashed potatoes or with my Vegan Veggie Loaf.

On Friday I threw together a complete hodge-podge of a Sundried Tomato, Feta, and Spinach Crustless Quiche (complete with creamed tofu mixed in with the eggs) and this Gluten-Free Black and White Cake, which we took out to dinner Friday night. (Alas, I didn't realize my SD Card wasn't in the camera while I was taking the photos, so ... not pictures of that sweet, delicious, gluten-free goodness.)

This week, I'm planning on trying these Buffalo Cauliflower Bites with Vegan Ranch Dressing, Slow Cooker Bean and Spinach Enchiladas, and this trio of delicious smoothies! I'm already thinking about next week's Shabbat menu, and I envision some stuffed peppers and perhaps some vegetarian chili for Friday night since it's been hella cold out here in Neve Daniel over the past week (which I'm loving).

What's on the menu for you this week? 

The Syndrome: Jewish Mother Martyrdom

The past week was particularly challenging for me, between getting over being horribly sick, preparing for Shabbat, and struggling with the financial reality that we still have not rented out our old apartment meaning our bank account is quite unhappy and my stress levels are super high. By the time Shabbat rolled in, things were tense and all I could think was that those angels were showing up as I lit the candles and they were not happy with what they saw and this week is going to be a mess, right?

After lighting I curled up on the couch with the boys off at synagogue and opened up the book I'm reading at the moment, One Baby Step at a Time: Seven Secrets of Jewish Motherhood, and there it was, I was up to the middle of a chapter and a piece called "Winning Shabbat" followed by a chapter called "What We Need to be Happy."

Sometimes, HaShem hands us exactly what we need when we need it.

In "Winning Shabbat," the author Chana Weisberg talks about perspective. As I get more pregnant, I think more and more about how this baby is going to arrive and all of the housekeeping and working and being a good wife is going to fall by the wayside and how it's going to grate my "must do everything right and immediately and constantly" nerves.

I was born for Jewish mother martyrdom, you see. My default in anything and everything is knowing how to best do anything (after all, I'm a master Googler).

Citing Rebbetzin Yemima Mizrachi, the author writes,

"We must decide that the work we do is a teruma, an offering that we give with joy to God, rather than a temura, something that we do for other people with the expectation that we are going to get something in return."

It's about overcoming our nature.

"It reminds me of how our Sages teach that Sarah was barren for many years because she ahd been born without a womb. And then, when she was ninety years old, after a life of praying and doing good deeds, God rewarded her with a pregnancy -- without a womb!"

The gist is that if we learn to overcome our nature, whether it's a tendency toward jealousy or grouchiness, miraculous things can happen (look at Chana, too!). My nature these days is one of "I must do everything" and "Things only get done right when I do them." It's the Jewish mother martyrdom nature that I really, really have to learn to step back from. After an amazing dinner out with friends, things got calmer, things were talked out, I shared the chapters I'd been reading with Mr. T, and the tension that Shabbat came in with dissipated.

(I also have to say that it was an appropriate week to read this with the Torah portion of the week, Noah. One of the big discussions about the portion is why Noah was viewed as so special, yet by the end of the portion he gets drunk and is shamed. How did someone rise so high and fall so fast? We're taught that it's about perspective. Avraham walked before G-d, whereas Noah walked with G-d. Avraham was bold and outspoken when it came to his fellow man. Noah simply obeyed, didn't question anything, and waited for permission for anything to happen. Noah didn't have the right perspective, you see.)

Reading over the essays in the next chapter about finding happiness and figuring out what we (mommies, women in general) to get everything done but still have our special, happy place.

"The greatest gift we can give our families (and ourselves) is a mother who is thriving physically, spiritually, and emotionally."

So I've been thinking. What do (or will) I need to stay sane and happy so I can be the best Jewish woman possible and the best mother possible?

The author talks about needing a few hours to spend on Torah a week, to not make cooked dinners every night of the week, and to have a cleaning lady once a week.

The funny thing is, her needs greatly resemble mine.

Last week I kept telling myself "You're going to sit down with the weekly Torah portion, learn it, devour it, and blog about it like you used to." When I was living in Washington DC and Chicago back in 2006-07, I devoted my late-night, post-Washington Post work nights to a coffee shop and the weekly parshah. It fulfilled me, it kept me feeling academically minded while I wasn't in school, and it gave me perspective on my Jewishness on a weekly basis.

It gave me strength.

When I was in grad school in Connecticut, I had tons of Jewish learning happening all the time, because I was both in grad school and working on my Orthodox conversion. When I hit NYU and life started crumbling, I still had my classes, I still had Jewish thinking and learning, and felt like I was giving back to myself but also fulfilling a major happiness need.

Since then, it's been tough. I've been trying to figure out what it is that I need to be happy, while also being a stellar wife and future mama.

As I figure out what I need to be happy (scheduled blogging time, an evening of pleasure cooking, once a week in a coffee shop working, and so on), I'm curious what those of you out there -- whether you're a hard-working woman trying to find time for yourself or a mother of many who can't seem to find a moment to herself -- need to be happy. Have you even thought about it?

My last piece from reading so far? This little morsel from Rebbetzin Feige Twerski:

"Grow where you are planted." Recognize that the life you have is not arbitrary, but orchestrated from above and hence is, at this moment, the context to which you must bring your finest efforts. 

Chaviva 3.0

I have to give a huge nod to Ronit for her mad skills at coming up with the quirky title of this post. I hadn't yet had the boost of creative juice to realize that today, my 30th birthday, is a new version of me.

I'm not really sure why or when the 20th, 30th, 40th, etc. birthdays became such a big deal, but the reality is that after 21, you don't have many other major milestone "something happens" birthdays (if you're born in the U.S. anyway).

• Ten was a step toward the teens.
• Fourteen was getting a job (technically I started two months before my 14th birthday). 
• Sixteen was a driver's license.
• Eighteen was the right to vote. 
• Twenty-one was the right to (legally) drink. 

And then? Well, I guess 25 meant that I didn't have to pay up the wazoo on rental cars, but other than that, not much happens. I haven't gotten gifts in years (this year was the first in many for receiving gifts, thanks to my most awesome MIL), and the attempts at attempting a birthday party simply didn't happen.

So my 30th has mostly come and gone without much fanfare. My Hebrew birthday was last week, and after a nice dinner out with Mr. T I got violently ill (glutened?) and have been under the weather ever since (bummed that we spent the money when I just regurgitated it all). Today was a work meeting, a visit to emergency care (again), and stressing over finances (again, as we're paying rent in two locations for the second month in a row with money we don't really have).

Perhaps, then, too much value is placed on birthdays. There are many in the Jewish world who believe that celebrating birthdays is a no-no, something in the vein of what pagans once did and something that Jews aren't meant to (in the Bible, the one birthday mentioned is that of Pharaoh, believe it or not). I joked with Mr. T today that henceforth, mommies count time in the days of their childrens' lives.

Time to spend the few hours left of this Chaviva 3.0 upgrade mumbling like a madwoman in HaShem's general direction. All I want for my birthday is peace, strength, patience, and a healthy, happy, curious child.

What do you think about birthdays in the Jewish world? Was 30 a big one for you or did it float by without any recognition? 

FYI: Sukkot was amazing. We spent time in the north with friends in Ma'alot minutes from the border with Lebanon where we ate delicious chili and chatted the night away in the sukkah. We spent the next day driving back home with a detour past a winery that I visited ages ago that just wasn't the same, but I got to see some beautiful landscapes of Israel that reminded me of Colorado with their greenery. Check out some of the pictures over on Flickr!

Israel and My First Sukkah

I'm sitting in my favorite Jerusalem coffee shop because our wifi in the new apartment isn't working and I am a "work from home" desk jockey, and right before my eyes, arising out of nowhere, is a sukkah! (And it's coffee themed, no less.)

Yes, the beautiful thing about living in a Jewish community is that all of your favorite restaurants throw up sukkot -- or booths, huts, shanties -- for the weeklong holiday where we're commanded to eat, drink, and be merry all outside in the sukkah. The great thing about living in Israel is that this is basically happening everywhere. Why? It's a mitzvah to eat in the sukkah! So if you're the kind of establishment that wants Jews of every flavor and religious leaning to show up during the holiday, you put up a sukkah.

Note: The sukkah is meant to be reminiscent of the temporary huts the Israelites were forced to dwell in during their 40 years wandering in the desert. It's also one of the Three Holidays that the Israelites/Jews would pilgrimage into Jerusalem to the Temple. Oddly enough, according to the prophet Zecheriah, in Messianic times, all nations of the world will celebrate Sukkot and pilgrimage to Jerusalem to celebrate. So to my non-Jewish readers: Brush up on your sukkah knowledge now! You never know when Mashiach will show up and you'll have to set up your own sukkah.

It might be hard to believe, but after "doing Jewish" for around 10 years now, I've never had my very own shiny, sparkly, law-abiding Sukkah. Despite a Reform conversion in 2006 and an Orthodox conversion in 2010, my sukkah experience has been relegated largely to community huts and those of close friends -- not to mention Sukkah City 2010, which was quite the experience.

One year my ex-husband attempted to install a sukkah on his deck, but he got flack from the neighborhood association and it fell down before we could even use it. I have experience with one-person pop-up sukkahs, large community sukkahs (including one that fell down around me), and sukkahs built in backyards, front yards, and everywhere in between.

But never have I built or decorated or dwelled for even a moment in my very own Sukkah! So this year, folks, this year is the year! It's the year of My First Sukkah. It's also the first year that I only have to observe one official "holiday" day at the beginning and end of the weeklong holiday. (In Israel, most of the Jewish festivals are only observed for one day, because theoretically we're close enough to Jerusalem know the calendar. Outside of Israel, most holidays are two days, because the idea is that Jews in the Diaspora would have to wait to hear when holidays began/ended. Yes, we have the internet and calendars, but this is just how we roll.)

With the holiday just a few days away, however, I'm left with a bit of panic: Where do I buy decorations? Do I even want to buy decorations? Should I create a theme that will create a tradition in our family? Should I go minimalist? Ahhhh! Plastic fruit: yay or nay? Cheesy posters of the patriarchs (who we invite in like visitors, because it's a huge mitzvah to invite people into your sukkah)?

The benefit of never having a sukkah of my own was that I never had to decorate it. May this be the worst of my problems this year, right?

Luckily, for us, our sukkah in the new apartment is up year round. According to the laws of sukkah, we're covered by the fact that there are two cement walls attached to the apartment where there is a glass sliding door, plus the rails on the fourth side of the balcony (with a beautiful view, I might add). We're borrowing the "roof" (called a skach in Hebrew) from our new landlord, and we recently picked up some plastic chairs that are currently serving as our dining room chairs (we're classy, and not rolling in money). As far as the basics, we're set.

As of now, the only "decoration" I have is a printed out and laminated infographic on Sukkot. I could run with the theme and just go nuts printing out and laminating infographics on the holiday, but that might be a little wonky and once Little Z is less fetus and more small child making cute pictures in school, I don't know how well they'll match. (Here's a thought: Teach Little Z about infographics in-utero!)

Decorations or not, I'm just blessed to live in a country where on every corner, on every balcony, in every little nook and cranny in this country, I'll be privy to sukkot of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Do you have a theme for your sukkah? If you don't have your own sukkah (yet), what would be your theme of choice? 

The Yom Kippur Approach

Oh hello there half of my new, large kitchen. 

Well, it's a new year, and I'm finally settled (or sort of settled, after roughly 24 hours) into a new apartment with a real kitchen, real living and dining space, but much smaller bedrooms and only one real bathroom. Life, as it goes, is all about compromises and, on occasion, sacrifices.

The past year (not to mention the past two years) has been quite the whirlwind. Moving to Israel, meeting Mr. T and getting engaged, losing both of my jobs, getting married, moving to Neve Daniel, Mr. T hitting rough professional/financial times, us struggling to get by ... and then finding an amazing job, money showing up that we were owed, an apartment popping up that perfectly suited our needs with an impending baby and a 10-year-old boy with us part-time.

It was a year of blessings and curses, in a way. And I cried a lot this year, and not just because I was pregnant for a lot of it (oh hormones).

I learned a lot about myself and what it means to daven (prayer), but not in the "I'm going to synagogue on Shabbat and reading out of the siddur (prayer book)" kind of praying. More the Chana style of praying. I like to think of it as silent but deadly: the quiet, angry moments with HaShem, coupled with the blissful, confusing moments with HaShem. I whispered myself to sleep with all of the problems and blessings on my lips, and I began every Shabbat with silent requests preceded by thank yous for all all of the beautiful things I've been gifted with -- from friends and family to parnasah and the beautiful baby I'm carrying.

After last year's immensely successful (for me) Yom Kippur, where I fasted successfully for the first time in years, I've been wondering how this Yom Kippur will be for me. I'm pregnant, and with the up and down of my blood pressure and dealing with some almost-black-out moments on days where I didn't eat or drink enough, I won't be fasting. Eating as little as possible, I don't even know if I'll make it to synagogue. It's going to be a Chana-style Yom Kippur/Shabbat experience for this gal.

What I do know is that I have all the hope in the world that 5774 will be a year of forgiveness, a consolidation of Jewish peoplehood and religion, and peace to all nations of the world. It's really all I can hope and wish for at this point. HaShem has smiled upon me in many ways, and no matter the amount of "curses" that seem to come my way, the "blessings" are abundant. It just takes a few moments for things to come into focus, sometimes.

Wishing everyone an easy fast, and g'mar chatimah tovah!

Sukkot: The Ushpizin Infographic

Absolutely loving this infographic. Hopefully, you'll be able to find it in my sukkah!

Shana Tova!

It's funny that this time last year I'd just pulled into Denver after a quick divorce and really had all the time in the world to sit down and pen a thoughtful and pensive post about life changes, ebbs and flows, and HaShem's plans for me.

This year? I was busy cooking, cleaning, working, and trying to get everything perfect for the three-day Jewish version of "Eat, Pray, Sleep." (Two days of Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year, with Shabbat tagged on at the end -- oy!)

The funny thing is, basically every year of my life since I graduated college in 2006 has been something completely and utterly different. Whether it was my physical location, schooling, who I was dating, conversion, life's tumults ... something was always changing. I haven't had two years of fairly consistent anything in a long time.

So my prayer is for the mundane with a twist of excitement in the unexpected, as usual. I pray that this time next year, I'll have a happy little baby on my hip, a wonderful husband at my side, and a home where people come and go and it feels like home. I don't think it's too far out of reach, either.

To everyone on the face of the planet who I've wronged in the past year -- please accept this meager attempt at an apology for misspeaking, misunderstanding, or just plain wronging.

So here's to my first year in Eretz Yisrael. It started out wonderful, got really, really rough, and has picked up since then. People say that this land tries with all its might to chew people up and spit them out, and I don't doubt the accuracy in that statement for a second. Judaism, as a whole, has a tendency of doing the same thing. You have to really want -- nay, need -- to be Jewish, to be all in with this fight for religion, peoplehood, identity, and culture.

Nothing here comes easy. Nothing.

Happy New Year. Shana Tova. Even if it's the absolute least you can do, eat those apples and honey with a huge smile on your face. This life is a gift. This life is all we have.

Let's start 5774 off right.

From Webb City to the Gush

I'm such a weirdo. This absolutely made my day. Yes, a scale that measures in kilograms made my day. Why? I'll tell you why.

Mr. T and I went to the doctor to go over some blood test results as well as to discuss my ultrasound from last week. The baby is great ("Nothing spectacular," says the doctor) and growing at the right rate ("But why nothing spectacular," asks Mr. T) according to all of the measurements so far ("You don't want spectacular!" the doctor says with a smile). After getting referrals for a 32-week ultrasound and a dietician (if I happen to need it) and the three-hour glucose test (which, hopefully will come back negative for gestational diabetes so I can rip up the dietician referral), I decided to hop on the scale since I neglected to make an August appointment with the nurse to check my weight and all of that good and fun stuff.

Of course, I made Mr. T turn around (he went to the bathroom) and started moving the scale around to detect my weight. As I landed on the same figure (less one pound or 1/2 a kilo) that I had in July when I weighed in (huzzah!), I noticed -- next to the brand name of the scale -- ", MO U.S.A." so I moved the weights a bit and bam!

Webb City, MO U.S.A.

You guys, I practically squeeeed with joy at this. I know, I sound like a nutcase, but you have to understand: Webb City was right down the road from where I grew up in Joplin. Webb City was where I spent my summers going to the drive-in movie theater. Webb City was like a mini-vacation from Joplin.

From 1921 E. 33rd Street to the Drive-In Movie Theater!

[And, please note my devastation as I just discovered that the movie theater was torn down to build a Walmart Supercenter ... sigh ... ]

Seeing a little piece of "home" from so long ago in a medical center in Efrat, Israel is like ... wow it's a trip for me. A real trip. It makes me wonder how a scale made in Webb City (in kilograms at that) made it all the way to the Gush of Eretz Yisrael.

It really is a small world after all.

Agunot in the Age of Facebook

I just saw something on my Facebook timeline, and for the first time in my Jewish life it made me stop and wonder about the situation of the agunah and particularly what it means in this new age of technology and the ability to publicly shame someone.

An agunah is a Jewish woman whose husband has not granted her a get, or ritual divorce. A lot of times, a civil divorce has taken place but a religious divorce has not. For a religious Jewish woman, this means she is bound to that man until he grants her the get. He can remarry, and she can't. She's in a horrible status of limbo that there isn't always much to do about other than fight, fight, and fight some more in beth din (religious court) to pressure the man into just letting her go.

The reasons for not granting a get are boundless, and most of the time childish and trivial. It's a power play by men who simply want to be in control of a situation they've lost control of. It's both pathetic and sad.

There are so many women who are living as agunot. Back in the olden days, especially when men started leaving their wives and immigrating here there and everywhere, the Yiddish newspapers would post their photos, names, and where they ditched their wife in the hopes that locals would turn them in to the local religious courts so they'd do the right thing.

Nowadays, it seems, people are turning to other resources, like Facebook and website building to make things happen. On Facebook I spotted Set Gital Free, which is a website made by friends of Gital Dodelson. Her (civil) ex-husband Avrohom Meir Weiss (of the Artscroll Weisses) refuses to grant a get unless all of his demands (of money, visitation with their small child, etc) are met.

The site includes information about Weiss's family, a timeline of events (these people had a wedding night baby, folks, and separated shortly after the child was born, which is a common thing in religious communities, believe it or not), and information about how you can make a difference.

I don't think I'm the kind of person to pick up the phone and berate the family of some idiot who can't man up and let a woman go, but I'm not about to go campaigning on Facebook either. The fact that I'm even blogging about it has me a little perplexed.

I guess, in a way, I think it's interesting how we've gone from the Yiddish edition of the Forward's "Gallery of Vanished Husbands" to Facebook page and website please to free someone. I think it's socially and psychologically fascinating, and I'm curious whether it has any pull or works.

I guess, in a way, I'm helping the "cause" by posting something here. I can't imagine being stuck in this kind of situation, and I thank haShem every day that I didn't have kids with my ex and that our divorce (by and large) was incredibly smooth (I asked for basically nothing, I left with basically nothing). I've never understood the type of divorce where you ask and torture and try to emotionally and financially ruin someone. When I got divorced, I just wanted to be done with it -- all the money in the world couldn't have made me feel any better about the decision, even when I left essentially broke.

It's all quite baffling. Sad. And baffling.

If you want to help support the cause of agunot, check out the Organization for the Resolution of Agunot. 

Musings of the Pregnant Lady

Mr. T makes a mean salad. I'm one happy (and full) pregnant lady.

While Miley Cyrus was busy getting down and dirty on stage at the VMAs (goodbye childhood), I was fast asleep (or something like it) preparing for the all-important glucose test to find out if Little Z has come with the fun accessory of gestational diabetes (cross your fingers that it's a no!). Luckily, the Israeli system has a overly sugary lemonade-style drink, which outdoes the disgusting, throat-burning orange soda stylings of the U.S. healthcare system's diabetic testing process.

The hour that I was sitting idle waiting for jitters to set in (they didn't), and without an iPad (had to sell it to pay the rent), I spent people watching. Efrat, where the medical center is, is across the main highway that runs through this region, and is very friendly to the English-speaking community. It's interesting how clearly American some folks are, but how they can turn their Hebrew off and on like a switch (with a pretty impressive accent, too).

I also felt reassured that babies seem to know when there's a pregnant woman nearby. I swear babies look at me like they know something, like they have a direct line into my uterus and see what's going on. Have you ever had a baby look into your soul? Yeah, I feel like that regularly.

Last week we went for the "big scan" where they check for organs and limb length and heart development. Unfortunately we didn't land many good pictures because Little Z was moving around like a maniac (same during the first ultrasound), and I appear to have an anterior placenta, meaning that it's both difficult to feel much movement at this point and to get clear pictures of the baby without forcing it to move (which, by the way, the guy did and I've been sore in the tummy ever since). The most beautiful things we experienced with Little Z were seeing the spine and ribs and hearing the heartbeat. We did get one good picture, in which Little Z looks just like a lot like Mr. T and, it appears, is holding a microphone and doing karaoke in-utero (that's my kid ... but it's probably the fist).

As I approach my 25th week, the flutter of insane "OMG AM I READY!?" thoughts are whipping up a storm. If it's a boy can I handle the bris? (We went to a friend's baby's bris last week and that little wail kills me every time.) If it's a girl can I handle the possibility that she's going to be as bratty and as much of a pain in the tuches as I was?

What do I need when the baby comes home? Wait a second, I have to choose a hospital? Will a larger apartment appear so that we don't have to eventually put a new baby in a room with a 10 year old who has had his own space his whole life? A birthing plan? Do I need a doula (midwife)? Do I know enough about breastfeeding and diaper-changing and not getting any sleep ever for the rest of my life (not that I get much now anyway)?

And then, today, while sitting in a coffee shop working, Little Z started acting like a mad person flipping or hopping or doing a jig of some sort ... I felt bumps and lumps and for nearly a minute all the insanity of glucose tests and cloth versus regular diapers and the reality of never sleeping ever again drifted away.

There's a baby in there. That's weird. Have you ever considered how absolutely bizarre and strange it is that a human being can grow another human being? I mean, that's miraculous, folks. It's weird, but miraculous. And for someone like me -- who for the entire extent of my first marriage didn't want to have kids because things weren't good and then swore off children -- the fact that I got pregnant so quickly after getting married and after being off birth control for a millisecond after 12 years of being actively on the pill ... I mean ... how does that happen?

Sometimes, I'm able to marvel at the life I lead. It's nothing glamorous. It's nothing special. I'm light years away from the free and single New York City-dwelling journalist superstar I thought I'd be 10 years ago.

Last night, before drifting off to sleep (and before Miley's crazy teddybear-inspired hump fest), I checked my social streams to find one of my former copy editors, who I managed what feels like ages ago, tweeting and instagramming from the VMAs as an editor at Mashable. For all intents and purposes, he's leading the life I dreamed for myself so long ago.

And yet, here I am, going through the motions of a first-time mommy, anxiety about nesting and doing the right thing and raising kids right in tow.

HaShem has a funny way of taking us through life. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Note: If you don't have the app Timehop, you should get it. Every day I wake up and look at my life a year ago, two years ago, and even five or six years ago. Not everyone is nearly as social as I am online, of course, but it's quite the interesting adventure. 

Meet the Lemurs

And now, for a video interlude ...

Shanah Rishona Guilt

Gluten-free enchiladas, granola bars for Mr. T, gluten-free pizza and fries,
pasta with sautéed spinach, sundried tomatoes, and mushrooms. 

One of the toughest things about having a full-time job, being pregnant and energy-less part of the time, and having a busy and awesomely ravenous husband is figuring out the proper balance to my day so that Mr. T doesn't end up eating pita and hummus for dinner and I don't end up gorging at one meal and feeling sick/exhausted the rest of the day.

After the first trimester, where I spent a lot of time sleeping and laying about (which I could do because I was under employed), I got a boost of energy and appetite -- for about two weeks. Yes, there were two glorious weeks where I was a machine from dawn until dusk and was able to eat just about every last bit of what I craved.

Those two weeks were short lived and a huge tease.

Now my energy levels wane from day to day. Some days I am more than eager to get up at 6:30 a.m. when Mr. T's alarm goes off and work all day and stay up late watching TV and having a nice homemade dinner. Other days, I pull myself out of bed at 9:30 a.m. and am crashing around 6 p.m.

So what's the big deal? I'm rocking a lot of "shanah rishonah guilt." What, you ask is this phenomenon? Shanah rishonah is how Jews refer to the first year of marriage (it literally means first year). For religious Jews, this first year means you're like a king and queen, you can hand out brachot (blessings) and instead of dipping your challah in salt you dip it in honey so everything will be sweet.

For very religious Jews -- who often don't date long before marriage and definitely don't live together -- it's also the chance to really spend time getting to know the other person, and the truth is that for Mr. T and I, it's been very much "getting to know you, getting to know all about you!"

Before we got married, I'd cooked for him a few times, and he cooked for me a few times, but we never shared a bathroom or bedroom or closet or space. We've been incredibly blessed that the transition has been smooth -- he's very easy going when I rearrange the entire kitchen or move things around in the closet. There are bigger fish to fry, as it goes.

But for me, there's still that feeling of needing to perform. I might work full-time now, but I'm home all day sitting at a desk near the kitchen, which makes me feel like I should be able to put up a four-course meal every night when Mr. T comes home from a day of hard-labor (he is an electrician after all). I also feel the need to make sure he's got healthy and filling lunches to schlep in every day to work. The guilt I feel when he comes home and I'm still tapping away working is probably unnecessary (he's even said it's unnecessary), but I know that the first year sets you up for life.

And with a tiny alien growing inside me, I have to wonder: What are things going to look like in six months when husband's working full-time, I'm working, baby is chilling out with me at home ...? And what about Erev Shabbat (Friday) when I basically stand up in the kitchen cooking from the moment I wake up until Shabbat comes in?

The truth is, I could probably take a huge load off of myself by not insisting on having an adventurous kitchen and palette. We have a vegetarian home, meaning that it's a constant battle to find protein-packed options for my most ravenous Mr. T (who can eat and eat and not gain a pound). So between work tasks, I'm scanning the web for gluten-free black bean burger recipes and ways to cook spaghetti squash and tips on using tofu that doesn't involve stir-fry (we over did it a few months ago). I don't like to replicate dishes too much, because I don't want to bore myself or the husband (or iBoy when he's around).

So what do you do? How do you rejigger things when your energy is up or down to keep things running at home? How do you fight that relationship-performing guilt?