Routine

As my little JuJu sleeps off her cold next to me (poor thing), I decided to let the laundry sit in the basket and just update my blog. I really thought that I would be blogging again - regularly - as soon as my C-Section scar healed. But, I had no idea just how hard it is to find a minute for myself. I haven't allowed myself time to just take care of me. Its been 4+ months and JuJu is such a joy. I absolutely adore her. I honestly haven't cut the umbilical cord yet and well, that works for me. Not really sure if that works for my husband, but that's a whole nother topic.

Yesterday was a real wake up call that I am as important as my husband and child. I thought I was pregnant again because I got sick after dinner Friday night, have been exhausted constantly and I have this new metallic taste in my mouth. I took a pregnancy test and well, it was negative, which meant I was able to order sushi for dinner but I was a bit disappointed. Not like I'm trying or anything, but I really thought it was a possibility and that got me excited. Anyway, turns out that I just have poor oral hygiene these days. And, I realized, that there are days when I just don't have time to brush my teeth. Sometimes, I don't even wash my face, get out of my PJ's or put on deoderant. I completely let myself go - although I am being careful about weight loss.

JuJu doesn't care if I've got stanky breath - as look as I'm here to smile at her, make her giggle, give her the boob when she's hungry and clean her dirty diapers - she's happy. I guess my husband doesn't care either cause he hasn't complained about my state.

I'm just miserable about it! I mean, just because I spend my days with an infant, doesn't mean I should completely disregard taking care of myself. I laugh that all my clothing is stained with spit up. I even have it in my hair! When JuJu spits up she's a little guyser and she gets me good! In truth, it bothers me that I look like garbage. I hoped to be one of those chic Mom's who is all put together, doesn't have any spit up on their clothing, has glowing skin and beautiful teeth, whose child is on a great eating/sleeping/playing schedule.

Boy, is that vision far from the truth.

How does anyone else out there do it? How do you find the time for yourself???

OK - I'm off to tackle that mound of laundry. Its great to be back!

Happy 60th BBQ!!

Chag Sameach everyone! It's Israel's 60th birthday and that means the air today will be filled with the smokey scents of BBQed beef. It already began last night, and I managed to make it to Pidgeon's car before I blew my chunks. It was nasty, but at least I was able to keep down 1/2 an entrecote skewer. I'm just so thankful I left a bag in the car, otherwise it would have been a bit messy.

So, I'm all messed up from the jetlag. I went to bed at 2:00 a.m. and was wide awake by 4:00 a.m. I laid in bed for a bit, went to the bathroom to read my What to expect while you're expecting book, came back to bed and woke Pidgeon to ask him what he thought of a baby name, and then gave in and just booted up my laptop. I made the big mistake yesterday of waking up at 6:00 and then sleeping basically on and off the rest of the day. I didn't get out of bed until 5:00 p.m., so no wonder I only slept 2 hours last night! I already made Pidgeon promise to not let me crawl into bed until tonight. I'm going to just fight through the exhaustion until I get my body back on Israel time!

Last night, we went to Pidgeon's family's big BBQ and it was a doozy! His folks had a lot of their friends over, and Pidgeon's Aunt's, Uncle's and cousins were also there. Since most of the family knows I'm pregnant, I fielded a lot of questions about how I'm feeling. I was very honest, and then suddenly someone is clinking a glass of champagne and making a toast about all of the Simchas in the room. Next thing I know, they're announcing that we are B"H expecting. Pidgeon got worried that I would freak out, but at that point in the evening I was feeling so nauseous and queazy that I couldn't care less. Granted, I'm only 11 weeks and most people wait until the end of their first trimester to tell people, but I'm really showing! I'd rather people know the truth then think that I overindulged in the States and just packed on the poundage. Hmm, does that make me vain?

Speaking of vanity: It took me 2 hours to get ready to go out last night, I just ripped through my wardrobe and tried to find stuff that still fit and was warm enough for the chilly Jerusalem evening. I settled on a pair of maternity pants (the only pair I bought, mind you, since I keep forgetting Jerusalem gets cool at night and I'm already in emergency-Israel-is-freaking-hot-make-sure-you-wear-clothing-that-ventilates mode) and a sweater set. I used a ton of under eye concealer to try to hide my bags and then broke out one of my new silk shmata's to tie around my head. Pidgeon said that I looked nice, but I felt a bit out of sorts. It's weird to be back, and to have to socialize with Pidgeon's entire family right away was a bit overwhelming. I guess things are still so new that, when I'm away, it just takes a bit longer to warm up again. I'm sure by the time Pidgeon's sister has her baby, I'll be back into the swing of things.

So, I'm absolutely starving right now but trying not to raid the fridge since it's only 5:50 a.m. Again, I'm trying to get myself on a schedule and middle of the night eating is really not something I want to get into the habit of doing. I'm going to try to hold out until at least 7:00ish/8:00ish before making myself a sandwich of some sort. Easier said than done, as a fierce headache is what woke me up to begin with. I definitely think it's a hunger headache, since I didn't eat much yesterday and didn't really keep much of dinner down. Yuck. I'm really, really looking forward to P"G the days when the nausea and this g-d awful taste in my mouth goes away. It's metallic sometimes, fruity the other, and just all around nasty. And my lord, but no one told me that I would be a saliva making machine!!!! Sometimes, I just want to grab a spittoon, cop a squat, and just spit all day long. Nasty image, no? Sorry about that!

Well, I think I'm going to head into the living room and tidy things up. Might as well be productive if I'm awake :)

Chag Sameach and Yom Huledet Sameach Israel from Jerusalem!

Yom Hazikaron

It's Yom Hazikaron in Israel, and since it's 7:20 a.m., the Country has 12 hours left to mourn. Last night was very sad, Pidgeon and I held off dinner until after the siren. We stood together in front of our TV in silence, and I cried. I blame it on the jet lag and the pregnancy hormones-gone-wild. The TV is full of stories of lost soldiers, and the families left behind to mourn their hero children. It's difficult to watch, especially since now I'm B"H going to be a Mother myself too. I can't fathem this type of pain. Pidgeon has to meet with his Professor for a few hours today in Shoresh, and I'm going to be staying close to home. We hope to go to shul tonight for Yom HaAtzmaut tefillah and then a BBQ at his parents home. It's not easy for me to go from super sad to jubilant in a matter of minutes. I don't know how Israeli's do it year in and year out. That's really one thing about Israeli culture I hope to adapt to, the immediate and acceptable shift from Yom Hazikaron to Yom HaAtzmaut.

Yesterday was surreal, I walked around under the jet lag haze and tried to do what needed to be done but failed pretty miserably. Pidgeon's car battery died and no amount of boosting could resurrect it. So, with 25 minutes to go until our Dr. appointment, we made the decision to hitch a ride to the Dr. and deal with the car battery when we returned. Our wait at the Dr.'s office wasn't too long, and when he finally took us in I told him just how lousy I've been feeling lately. He smiled for the first time in the 6 months since I've been his patient and then recommend acupuncture as a known remedy for morning sickness. One needle a day is enough for me (explanation to follow) so I decided to pass and just pray that this nausea will subside on its own in a few days. We went into the examination room and he decided to do a belly ultrasound, which I was thrilled about since I'm not a fan of the internal ones. Pidgeon came into the room with us and suddenly, there was our baby! We watched as the baby played with its feet and both of us just kept saying: Oh my G-d, Oh my G-d, Oh my G-d!

I'm keeping a scrapbook of all our ultrasound pictures, and you can really get a better sense of what the baby looks like at this stage of my pregnancy. It's so amazing sometimes to think that this little baby is growing and alive inside of me! I called my Mom when we got home and told her the news. She decided to dub the baby Tater Tot because I had the stronger urge for Tater Tots when I was home and almost ate an entire bag myself. Which is a pretty good indication as to why I put on 7 pounds in 3 weeks! That's not a healthy number and so I have to figure out some sort of eating plan that doesn't include Entenmenn's, potato chips and Tater Tots. I ate some watermelon and cherry's for breakfast but boy did that just bring on the morning sickness! I'm hoping to be able to keep my eating more in check once the nausea subsides. Otherwise, I'm just going to have to eat a bag of chips a day and pray the weight doesn't pile on!

Meanwhile, now that we're back, I've been so overwhelmed with planning for the baby. I was so wiped from the Dr., I napped for 5 hours in the afternoon and picked up enough energy to unpack all four of our suitcases. I left the shoes for Pidgeon to put away before it's painful to bend down sometimes, but I was proud of what I accomplished. I even managed to make a nutritious dinner for us (peas, Lentil pilaf and chicken cachatorie) before giving in to the exhaustion and sinking into the couch that I didn't leave until after my shot. During those hours, I numblessly watched TV and thought about all the questions you have to think about at this stage of pregnancy.

How do I want to deliver? Who do I want to deliver me? Where do I want to have this baby? What about all of my health issues? Does it pay to go private? What about a midwife or a doulah?

Fortunately, my MIL is a doulah and I plan on asking her to be mine as well. With the language barrier for me, I really want someone in that room who has a bit more invested interest in my health and our babies, who knows how to navigate "the system" and will really just help me out. When I mentioned to my friend Shulamit that I was going to ask my MIL to be my doulah, she was shocked and tried to talk me out of it. Believe me folks, if I was having this baby up at Einstein where I'm surrounding by English speaking Dr.'s, my American gynocologist and with my American neurologist a phone call away, I might make a different choice of doulah's. But this is Israel. My Hebrew is deplorable. I don't understand necessarily how birthing works here, I don't always understand what people are saying to me. Besides Pidgeon, I will have no one from my family here to support me. You bet your ass I'm having my MIL in that room helping me out when she has the experience with these situations. Granted, having her see me in that type of situation is not necessarily something I'm gung-ho about. But sometimes, you just have to suck it up and make difficult choices. This is not an easy choice for me, but I honestly do think it's the right one.

In Israel, your OBGYN is not necessarily the person who delivers you. Unlike in the States, when the Dr. who has been following you your entire pregnancy is the one delivering your baby. That frightens the heck out of me, for many reasons.

Reason 1 - I have pseudotumor cerebri, which I pray is still in remission even with the massive weight gain, and therefore my Dr. needs to be aware of my condition and take that into account during delivery and throughout the pregnancy.

Reason 2 - As if the PTC wasn't enough, I was recently diagnosed with a blood clotting disorder. That means, every single day, I give myself a shot of Clexane (generic for Heparin) in the stomach. People. I shoot myself with a needle in the STOMACH every day. If I really, really thought about what I've been doing, I wouldn't be able to do it. Fortunately, we have it down to a good routine, and Pidgeon is absolutely amazing. Together, we ice the area with a bag of edemame that I promised I would cook up for him once the shots are over. Then, he brings over the shot (still sealed) and an alcohol swipe. I look around for an area of my stomach to pinch enough fat to cushion the shot. But first, I have to measure 4 fingers width away from my belly button. That's the no-shot zone. Once that's done, Pidgeon opens the alcohol wipe and I pull it out with sterile fingers. I swipe the pinched fat area (B"H, I've got plenty of belly fat, which really helps) with the alcohol and then Pidgeon helps me position the shot at a 90 degree angle. That's the most difficult to do, figuring out 90 degrees from the pinched fat portion of my stomach. Once we're set, I take a deep breath, and just insert the needle. Sometimes I draw blood, which really sucks because the bruising can be really painful. The worst part of the shot, though, is the medication itself. It burns like a mother@#%$%r. We then wait 10 seconds after the medication is in (the needle hole is TINY and so you have to wait 10 seconds after plunging to make sure that all the medication goes into the stomach) and then I pull it out, hand the used syringe over to Pidgeon, and try to ice the pain and bruising away. It's a 15-20 minute process, minimum, each and every day. It doesn't get easier. It doesn't get better. And knowing that I have to do this every day until 2 weeks before the baby and then 6 weeks after the baby is born, is not helpful. But I want a healthy baby so badly, that this is a small price to pay for P"G our future children. So, I need to make sure the Dr. delivering our baby is familiar with a blood clotting disorder and would be able to rush in if G-d forbid something when wrong with me.

Reason #3 - Seriously, reasons 1 and 2 should be more than enough. Bottom line is that, with all my medical issues, I don't want someone I never met before who isn't familiar with my conditions, to deliver our baby.

Oh, but did I mention that if I want my current OBGYN to deliver our baby it would cost us 10,000 shekel!!?!?!

Dude, that's just a lot of money.

We're looking into our options right now, but I never thought it would be something I'd have to look into. I'm just happy that at least I know about this now, otherwise, I would be in for a really big surprise when I P"G went into labor and my Dr. didn't show up when we called for him.

Anyway, the nausea is getting pretty bad right now so I'm going to go and forage in the fridge for something to keep the morning sickness at bay. I'm not holding my breath.

May today bring some comfort to all those in mourning as we spend these hours mourning with our fellow Countrymen.

Invasion of the Borsalino's

We're back in Israel and, as evidenced by the time of this post, I'm horribly jet lagged and have been up since 4:00 a.m. I tried to rouse the Pidgeon for some company, but he was having none of it and is softly snoring away next to me. I'm jealous.

As sad as I am to have left NYC and my family, it's nice to be back in Israel in our apartment. I missed our beds, which is ironic since we're getting new ones this week. It was just so great on the drive back from the airport - we took the 443 - that the view didn't lend itself to tears. Don't worry, they'll be coming!

The flight was an absolutely NIGHTMARE! I hate El Al. I wish I had Guydamak's phone number cause I would call him and beg him to buy the airline and make it user friendly. Our flight was delayed 5 hours!! We should have gotten to Israel at 1:00 p.m. and we didn't land until close to 7:00 p.m. That was pretty crappy.

Meanwhile, we were on the Yeshiva shuttle, and there were so many black hats on the plane that I could have sworn we were mistakenly at a Rosh Yeshiva's funeral and not boarding at JFK. And, with loads of black hats, comes loads of black hat boxes. Many even carried on board more than one. And they are so stupid about loading them up into the overhead compartments. I watched as 4 bocherim tried to get 4 hat boxes from Brooklyn to fit in one tiny compartment. Fortunately, the guy we sat next to wasn't anal about me sometimes sitting in the middle. Otherwise, I would have had to deal with one of those bocherim who freak out if a woman sits in between two men. Regardless of the stench - seriously, no excuse when you're coming from NYC people - I was pretty ill on the plane. I spent majority of the first 2 hours going through my barf bags, which wasn't pretty. I should never have eaten 2 day old spinach salad before the flight. I learned my lesson the hard way! I was stinky, exhausted, dehydrated and crabby when we landed which probably explains why I had a fight with the rudest F^&**g Yeshiva kid in the world.

So, given my puking situation, I had very little energy left when we got to the carousel. We went through the airport and boarder control very quickly (we have the cards and use the machine, which is the best ever!) and were parked at two empty spots before majority of our flight even got through boarder control. Well, all of a sudden, this fat, nasty, smelly jerk of a Yeshiva student, with sweat pouring down his brow and his black hat sitting back on his greasy hair, stepped in front of my cart and decided to wait for his luggage. Well, the obstructed my view. So, I asked him to nicely move away from my spot as I was here first. He ignored me. I asked him again nicely and explained I was there first and that I couldn't see. He told me that when he got here "no one was here and he was there first". Well, that just had me seeing red and I lit into him. I told him that I was already waiting there for 30 minutes, that my cart was literally right there, and who the hell does he think he is? He was having none of that from a head covering, pants wearing woman. Pidgeon came to my defence and also told him that was he was doing was rude. He was nasty back to the Pidgeon and I was just so shocked.

This is what they teach in Yeshiva? To be self-centered, chutzpadik and an complete asshole. He told me that, if I wanted that spot, I should be standing in front of the carousel and not behind the cart. I was floored. Who the hell was this tool?

I pointed to my stomach and said, I'm pregnant, I can't schlep off the conveyer belt.

Well, he said, then I have absolutely no business even standing there to begin with.

The Yeshiva bocher standing next to him then offered to help me with my bags, but Pidgeon interceded and said he was my husband.

I then unleashed a tirade on this black hatted boor. I told him that he should be ashamed of his behavior. I then asked him where he learned, and he said, why does that make a difference?.

And I said, because I wanted to call your Rosh Yeshiva and let him know what type of men learn at his Yeshiva. How they have absolutely no Derech Eretz. The black hatter once again turned his back to me.

I muttered nice to see my Yeshiva tzdaka dollars at work. I still wish I knew where he learned, I would honestly call to speak to the Rosh Yeshiva and tell him what deplorable behavior this guy exibited.

Fortunately, I didn't have to do my own revenge, the Lord was watching. So, Pidgeon and I finally get our bags and we're heading out through Customs to meet Pidgeon's father. Lo and behold, said Yeshiva bocher comes charging through with his bags, and the three of us are practically walking through Customs together. That's when we heard the call from the guards.

Adoni, Atzor!.

Pidgeon's heart drops to his knees. I keep walking, ignoring the men yelling. Finally, the Yeshiva bocher turns and asks if they are speaking to him. They say yes. He responds, in typical fashion,

Ok fine, you can look through my stuff but make it quick because I got to catch a Mincha minyan.

I hope they charged him through the nose.

So anyway, I've been trying to wait to write about the pregnancy, but I just can't anymore. It's such a big part of my life these days that I need to use this forum to just write about what's been going on with me. Fortunately, I told the two readers I'm related to over Chag (hi Daneel and Cousin Neil!) so I can write about it now without offending anyone who found out through the blog as opposed to through me.

We're so excited about this baby, but it has been a very difficult 11 weeks. We go to the Dr. today for a check up and, since I haven't seen him in 3 weeks, I'm hoping that everything is progressing as it should. I'm nervous, but hopeful that everything is okay. I've been feeling like absolutely garbage though for the past 6 weeks and I'm just praying that, with 2 weeks left in my first trimester, I'll start feeling better soon. I've been puking nonstop, felt nauseous more than comfortable, and have a million other pregnancy related symptoms. People tell me that I should be happy, the crappier you feel the better it is for the baby. Somehow, when I had my head down the nasty toilet on the plane yesterday, knowing that information just didn't make things better. I wish I knew what I could do for this awful taste in my mouth too. It's just unbearable.

And, my lord, but do I have a super sense of smell! I have such smell aversions, it's terrible. Last night, Pidgeon sprayed bathroom spray and it almost sent me gagging. He was shocked because I was the one who bought the spray, but I had no idea it smelled so strong and so bad! Last month, he opened a can of tuna two rooms away and I went nuts. I thought he opened like 15 cans, the smell was so bad!

And don't cook meat anywhere near me. I'm not looking forward to Yom Haatzmaut on Wednesday night/Thursday. The Country that BBQ's will have me fighting with the green for 24+hours and we have 2 parties to go to! I might just have to carry lemons with me, so I can break into them and sniff when it gets too bad. The saddest thing is that I usually LOVE meat. I LOVE BBQ! I was so upset that, in the States, I couldn't touch meat at all. One meal of meatloaf, sweet and sour meatballs and mashed potatoes had me puking for hours, so I'm now avoiding it with a ten foot poll. I miss chicken and meat and can't wait for the day when I go from food aversion to no aversion but just eating-everything-in-site. At least I'll get my carnivor instinct back. Well, here's hoping!

With all that aside, we cannot wait for November. P"G, we're having a Thanksgiving baby and I'm just completely overwhelmed. I filled with excitement, fear, self-doubt, you name it! I'm also totally crazy emotionally. Over Shabbos, my 6 year old nephew pointed to my hip and asked me why it looked the way it did (my scrubs that I wore to take a nap were falling down so some skin was showing). I asked him what he meant and he said that it looked like I had another tushy. It was so cute, that I started laughing and crying. And then I just couldn't stop crying. Pidgeon was in the other room and fortunately, he was able to rush over and try to console me. Oh yeah, the weirdest things send me into a complete crying fit.

Phew, I just suddenly got so tired. Maybe I can sleep a few hours before we have to get up and go to the Dr. More about our trip to come, so come back and write! Plus, if you've been where I am right now, please drop me a line! I could use all the support I can get :)

Yom Tov from Jerusalem.