On the Inside

 On the outside I look fine

But on the inside I'm broken

I worry for our nation

I pray for peace 

On the outside I look fine

But on the inside I'm broken

I mourn their deaths

I pray for their families

On the outside I look fine

But on the inside I'm broken

I see their faces

I pray for their return

On the outside I look fine

But on the inside I'm broken

I picture them fighting

I pray for their safety

On the outside I look fine 

But on the inside I'm broken

I wait for his call

I pray it won't be his officer

On the outside I look fine

But on the inside I'm broken

I drop them off at school

I pray there won't be sirens 

On the outside I look fine

But on the inside I'm broken

I tuck them in at night

I cry for their reality

On the outside we look fine

But on the inside we're broken

We're broken, but we will win

עם ישראל חי 

How I Do It

 

Since Yedidya has been in miluim (army reserve duty) many people have expressed to me that they "don't know how you do it!" How I manage the house, the kids, my job all by myself while also worrying about my husband's safety and keeping my own sanity (not to mention the baseline worry, fear, and sadness that every Israeli is feeling these days). To be honest I’m not entirely sure how I do it either.

Here's what I do know. I'm not by myself. I am constantly supported by friends and family. The girls and I pack up and go away every Shabbat- to my parents or to Yedidya's siblings. All the Unterbergs and Kennards take care of us over the weekend and send love and support throughout the week. During the week my brother and his girlfriend, who also live in Givat Shmuel, come over to help whenever I need them. Having extra sets of hands, in particular attached to people the girls already know and love, gets me through each week. On the rare occasion that they weren't available I invite the girls over to friends for playdates. Families who currently have both parents at home are always happy to help a miluim family. In addition, the Anglo community of Givat Shmuel has created a network of volunteers to help miluim families. We receive a home cooked dinner twice a week and a weekly treat. These amazing women have also organized weekly cleaners, sponsored manicures, and a Chanukah party to further help miluim wives and children. We also have an assigned buddy we can turn to if we ever need any other assistance.

On the emotional front I'm enveloped by love all time. Whether it be through the WhatsApp group of Anglo miluim wives or friends and family checking in and sending treats. If I'm feeling down, there is always someone I can turn to. I also signed up for the free six months of therapy offered to all Israelis by Better Help and have a virtual therapy session once a week.

While none of this help makes the situation easy, it makes it possible. It means I go to bed every night knowing that I went to work and did what needed to be done, the house is (mostly) clean, the girls are fed and as happy as they can be. I still fear for Yedidya's safety. The girls and I feel his absence like it itself is a psychical being, especially now when he cannot use his phone. I find myself two minutes here and there over the course of the day where I can be alone and cry. Somehow the time passes and every day finishes. In a sad way we adjust to our new normal. Nearly three months into this I can't really imagine going back to regular life. It's honestly a little scary and it will be an adjustment once again. I worry what it will mean for our country, knowing we can never go back to who we were as a nation on October 6. Yesterday my therapist and I were discussing Jewish history and she said the Jews are like a phoenix. Others try and destroy us but we always rise from the ashes. I trust in God to bring us through and help us rise again. I trust in Him to bring Yedidya home to us. I thank Him for the people he has put into my life who logistically and emotionally get me through every day. I keep going, one day at a time in hope that tomorrow and tomorrow's tomorrow will be better.

 

Three Weeks

It's November. I don't know where October went but it's November. The war started October 7, can three weeks really have passed? I'm not sure. So much has happened so maybe it's possible.

The girls have gone back to school, I’m managing to work- even to move forward on some long term goals my boss and I set before all this. Yedidya has visited twice- 36 and then 48 hour breaks. 84 hours where I could pretend things were normal, where our family was together, where I didn't have to do it all alone. I started therapy, therapy is good, it helps.

I've moved through the initial panic- I was supported through it with family and friends helping me take each step. They provided me both with moral support and practical help and I could not have made it through without them. I will never have the words to fully express my appreciation.

Settling into our new routine leaves space to move out of myself and really start to grieve our national loss. To give headspace to those murdered and kidnapped on October 7. To the soldiers killed and wounded since. To look at their beautiful faces and feel their loss. These are hard feelings but they are important.

As I sit with my young daughters in our safe room or hear them express how they miss Abba I ask myself some hard questions. What was I thinking moving here? How can I have done this to my children? And then I see the news of anti-Semitic attacks all over the world and I remember. Jews are not safe anywhere. Any Jew can be attacked just for being Jewish no matter what country they're in. So I will proudly raise my children here. In our home among our people. Where their father serves in the army that protects us. Where they see signs everywhere saying "Together we will win" and "The Jewish nation lives". Where they see how we come together to help each other through hard times. Here where even though we are in danger, we are safe. We are safe because we will win.

The past three weeks have been unlike any others in the history of the Israeli state. The next weeks will bring more loss and more grief. We will continue having to justify our existence as we fight for our lives. But we will win. We will win and I will continue to raise my daughters to be proud Jews, among their people, in their home.

The Forest

 Today is the last day of my maternity leave and my baby is in daycare so I took a drive to Jerusalem. On the drive I took in the sights, the forested hills on the outskirts of Jerusalem, David’s Harp bridge, all the Jerusalem stone. The sights reminded me to not forget the forest while bogged down in the trees. 

When you’re a working mom of three, there are a lot of trees. Work, the house, every kid comes with their own mini forest of trees. Fevers, teething, potty training, social anxiety, trouble with boundaries. Cleaning, cooking, doctors appointments, errands. With all those trees it’s easy to forget the forest. That we as a nation have come home after 2000 years of exile. That I was able to do that on a micro level and make the choice to come home. That my daughters will never have to make that difficult choice, that they were born in their homeland and are growing up among their people. 

Sunday I go back to work. These past 7 months my trees have been entirely focused on my home and family and now I need to readjust to adding work trees. I’ve naturally been apprehensive about this change. Today’s reminder of the forest was an important one, a gift from my homeland that is always giving. The coming days will be full of many trees, many of which will be challenging and difficult. I will do my best on those days to remember the forest and how blessed I am to be living in it.

Lockdown

 I can't do this anymore.

Five weeks in and I've reached my limit. 

I have zero patience, I can't keep going, I can't do this anymore. 

The fights to get on zoom, the fights to get dressed, to clean up, to just LISTEN!

Being home with them any longer is impossible. 

But on the other hand...sending them back to gan…

With numbers so high, with kids who can't get vaccinated, with gannenot who maybe won't (this is speculation, I know much of the staff is vaccinated, I just haven't received an answer about all the staff).

Sending them back to gan to struggle to readjust only to be taken out for the next lockdown, to get stuck in bidud, to get sick?

I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between protecting our physical health and maintaining our mental health. 

I do not know what to prioritize and am paralyzed by fear. 

All I know is I can't do this anymore. 

Nine Months Ago

 I’m 9 months pregnant. 

9 months ago we lived in a rented apartment. 

9 months ago my toddler was hardly talking and in private gan. 

9 months ago my older daughter was in pre-k. 

9 months ago I had never heard of corona. I didn’t know the Hebrew word for mask and certainly had never considered anyone who wasn’t a surgeon wearing one. Concepts of national lockdowns and the government deciding where and when we could go places would have sounded like a dystopian novel. Limiting the number of people at weddings for health reasons wouldn’t have made any sense. Restricted air travel wouldn’t have crossed my mind. 

Today we live in an apartment we bought. 

Today my toddler talks in full sentences, sings Let It Go, pats my belly and tells me that’s her baby, and is in public nursery. 

Today my older daughter is in kindergarten on the grounds of the elementary school. 

Today I wear my mask to work daily (and anywhere else I go). I’ve survived one lockdown and started another. I’ve chosen to not attend a wedding for fear of exposure to corona. I’ve accepted that I have no idea when I’ll see my grandmother or my in-laws in person again. I’ve been briefly quarantined. Due to working in a geriatric hospital I have done close to 20 corona checks (all negative Bli Ayin Hara) and will do another 2 before I start my maternity leave. I have struggled to survive in this new world while suffering from anxiety and depression. I’ve put my children in masks. I’ve listened to my five-year-old tell me how she wishes corona never came here. I’ve watched, in awe, as my husband became superman and juggle being a stay-at-home dad and working from home while I continued to work at my “essential job”. I’ve watched in fear the changes that are happening to the world. 

In the 9 months I’ve grown a new baby inside of me the world outside has completely changed. In ways I could never have predicted or imagined. Preparing for a birth always includes a lot of unknowns. When will the baby come? How will we manage juggling this new baby with all the other things in our lives?  Who will she look like? What will her personality be like? Now I have a whole new set of questions. Will my daughters have Gan over my maternity leave? Will I be able to see my friend who is also on leave as we planned? How old will my baby be when my extended family (both in Israel and abroad) meet her? What sort of world am I bringing her into? 

How do I end this blog post? 

I have a lot of questions right now, I've had a lot of questions over the last six months. Most, if not all, of them remain unanswered. And so we continue taking it one day at time and hoping for things to get better. Sometime in the next month we will, Beezrat Hashem, add a new ray of sunshine to the equation. I hope more good things will come along with that. 

Feeling Other At Home

This week I had an Aliyah milestone. I attended my first Public Gan (nursery) party. This was a few days after attending my younger daughter’s Private Gan party and during a period that my husband was away on Miluim (army reserve duty). So I was feeling pretty Israeli. Sure, during my younger daughter’s party they played some songs I didn’t recognize but I was with my Anglo friends and we joked about how we never recognize the music. And what could be more Israeli than being among the ranks of Israeli wives with husbands away serving the country?
And then came the Public Gan party, where I’m the only immigrant. I was shocked to find out that I wouldn’t be allowed to bring my younger daughter with me, but soon learned that this was the standard and had to find a babysitter (shout out to my awesome cousin Adin and his wife Amanda who did a great job). I posted in the Gan whatsapp group about it and many parents (very kindly) explained that this was what was done here and commiserated about how hard it must be to be here without parents to help (my parents do live in Israel, but not close enough to be able to help on a day to day basis and also work). They were all very sweet and understanding but talking to them made me feel...other. And then the actual party itself. The music teacher came and played songs on her keyboard while the Gannenet (teacher) and the kids sang along. They did cute, little dances and it was adorable. And I was surrounded by parents singing along and clapping at the right part and doing the movements along with them while I...did my best to keep up. This time I had no one to joke with it about though and I felt... other.
I made Aliyah in order to come home, and I know that I am home here and most of this time do feel at home. But I still have moments where I feel... other. And those are hard and they are uncomfortable. But it’s just part of being an immigrant, it’s who I am and always will be. My children are native born Israelis and will know these songs and the dances and will be able to sing along at their children’s Gan parties. That makes it all worth it. That and moments like today, where I met a new client who asked where I’m from and when I told him America he said “Oh, wow you must be really Zionist!” And I smiled and told him I am, because it’s who I am and always will be.