Punching Bag

Maybe I'm an easy target. I'm certainly imperfect and flawed - perhaps more than I've ever been. I don't always say the right things- I've got a bad combination of grief brain, mommy brain, and pregnancy brain. I'm emotional - still very much climbing my way out of the deepest, darkest hole you can imagine. I know you find my emotions and grief frustrating. I am learning not to come to you when I'm feeling anxious, sad, or bereft. I am doing my best to put on my cool, calm and collected face for you - even though I'm none of those things. And still, somehow, I continue to feel like your punching bag. I am asking you to stop - and consider that I might be more sensitive than most - and, embarrassingly, more defensive than most as well. Try to muster up your most empathetic self - please - I'm fragile - and if you love me, you'll treat me kindly, you'll give me a pass, you'll let me make mistakes while I navigate this new life I have. Stop treating me like your punching bag. Please. One more punch might break me.

Maxie's Fourth Birthday Benefit

I don't yet have the photos back from Maxie's Birthday Benefit on Sunday...so you'll just have to trust me when I say that it was packed and everyone seemed to be having a great time.  We had about 200 people - SO many friends, friends kids, family, and many unfamiliar faces as well.  We raised a lot of money for First Candle - over $31,000.  Everything went mostly pretty smoothly.  All in all - a great success and something that we feel really good about.

I got an email from a friend asking me if I was satisfied with how the event turned out.  The truth is that it isn't a really "satisfying" venture.  In many ways, it feels very very empty for me - and I can only speak for myself.  It is one of the things I do to try and work through this gigantic loss.  I do it because I'm scared that to do nothing might feel even worse.  But, there is something super icky feeling about asking people to support you.  It can feel selfish and desperate. 

On the other hand, it is amazing when people actually do answer the call and step forward to lend their support.  Some of the people who lent a hand aren't even people I've personally reached out to or people I know very well - like so many of our sponsors.  What gigantic hearts they have to support us without even really knowing us - just knowing the very basics of our story.  There are also a handful of individuals every year who help me take ownership of the event and really work with me from start to finish to make sure every detail is covered.  I wouldn't be able to pull off this event without them.  They go above and beyond and I am grateful to them.

I came home on Sunday night feeling incredibly sad.  I should have felt ecstatic: the event was over, I'd seen so many wonderful friends, everyone had a ball, we had been so supported throughout, we'd raised a ton of money.... but I just felt sad.  There is something so incongruous about drinking beer and eating delicious food, and face painting and arts and crafts and big smiles and warm "hellos" and bidding wars over gift certificates - and how I really feel about the birthday party of my boy who I love more than life itself who isn't here to celebrate.  Behind my smile, you may not see how empty my world often is without him. I keep saying it, but I know there is no way for you to know.

I am so grateful that when I build it - you all come.  I know that kids missed naps, that dads (and moms) missed Sunday football (hopefully you DVR'd?), that perhaps you were nervous about seeing me and not knowing what to say, or that you only knew me and I was too busy putting out fires to spend time with you.  I am grateful that despite those challenges - you came, you bought into our vision, your kids had fun, you guzzled some cold ones, you bid on some auction items you probably didn't need (but are so happy to have won), and you helped to celebrate the life of our special little boy.  He wasn't here long but his impact is still felt.  Thank you for that......

We make boys

I guess it's true - Ted and I make boys. So, don't be too surprised when I tell you that we've got another one coming.

Baby Boy "M. Leviss #3" due to arrive on or around March 1, 2015. We are very, very excited!

Isn't he cute?

Maxie's Fourth Birthday

I cannot stop crying.  I literally CANNOT stop crying.  The waves of grief hit me every single day - but today, they are pummeling me, pounding me, breaking me.  "I don't know how I am still doing this", is what I keep thinking, realizing that I have to do this forever.  Life is unfair and it can be terribly hard.  We all lose people we love throughout our time on this planet and its awful and painful and heartbreaking.....but NOBODY should ever have to lose a child.  NOBODY.  There is just nothing that I would have imagined happening in this life of mine that could have come close to this pain.  Nothing.

Today, he would have been 4.  We would have woken him up singing.  We'd be excitedly talking about his upcoming party this weekend. We'd be planning a special day, with all of his most favorite food (which likely wouldn't be greek yogurt and bananas anymore), and so many of his favorite people.  Or, at least, I think that is what we'd be doing.  I'll never ever know....because we never even got to celebrate one birthday with him.

I am angry and so so sad.  And when I read over what I've written it's all just words and there is no way to just SHOW you my heart and how BROKEN it is and how NOTHING fills the void.  He deserved more than this.  We all did.

Atonement

Mo and I went to Temple on Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year). I dropped Mo off at the kids service/childcare and I sat with friends. I wouldn't say my whole heart was really in it (not sure that it ever really is) but I felt like I wanted to go for whatever reason. [Frankly, one of the main reasons was so that I could drop Mo in the childcare - he isn't starting pre-school until January and he is getting ansy and wants to be around other kids. I knew this would be a fun day for him.] 

I sat in the sanctuary, watching the people come and go, whispering back and forth with my friend Limor, getting scolded by the old man sitting behind us ("Ladies, there is a service going on" - HA! Some things never change). I didn't spend time reflecting on the year and all that it has brought - perhaps because it has been such an overwhelming and complex year - with so much joy, sorrow, pain, delight, renewal. It's almost too much to think about. I just sat there singing along absent-mindedly - disconnected - unattached - disinterested in the spiritual aspect of the day. That's how religious services go for me. In a strange way, it is a meditative time. I may not be thinking about the prayers themselves, but I do sort of disconnect from regular life.  I don't think about the nonsense that occupies my brain 90% of the time - work, finances, scheduling, whatever. I do just flip through pages - figure out where we are, how much left we have to go, why the cantor isn't singing the tune that I know.

I wasn't thinking about much, that is, until we got to the Amidah - a pivotal prayer said in all religious Jewish services - one that I've read the Hebrew and English version of at least 100,000 times over the course of my lifetime. 

"Praised be the Lord our G-d, who grants eternal life to the deceased". 

My eyes are filling with tears just writing this now. ETERNAL LIFE. A Jewish concept? I've asked every Jew I know - rabbis, orthodox, chabad, and kabbalistic friends - "Does Judaism support a concept of life after death?" In the wake of my child's death, I have not been able to come up with a more relevant or important question for plugging forward with my own life. It's basically all I ever think about - night and day. I've asked so many observant Jews this question, I am surprised they don't go running when they see me approaching. The answer I usually get is "I think so" or "Judaism focuses on the life we live now. We do good because it is the right way to live, not because of the reward we may receive in the afterlife". But, I am not worried about the reward - I don't care about Heaven or Hell or Satan or Angels or harps or cupids or anything. I care about Max. I care that he isn't just buried on the side of a hill near my house - his brief life having only experienced baths and tickles and kisses and naps. I care that I will be with him again - which is my version of Heaven (and so maybe I do care about the reward and punishment thing).

The idea that Judaism supports this concept felt so profound to me in that moment that I actually had to hold back my tears in the service. I think going from whispered giggling gossip to bursting out into tears seemingly out of nowhere might have been a little much for my seating companions - not that my quickly changing emotional range is anything new.  Somehow, I did manage to hold it together.

Earlier this week, a girlfriend of mine wished me "G'mar Chatima Tova" (Basically - "May you be inscribed in the Book of Life this year").  I read through more of the English translation on Rosh Hashana and found the familiar words reminding me that G-d is going to take the next 10 days (which are up tomorrow) to decide who lives and who dies, who suffers and who prospers, who will have abundance and who will find poverty.  "It doesn't add up", I told her.  "Why would G-d NOT have inscribed Max into the Book of Life? He was just a baby.  He didn't deserve to die."  Is it possible that he was being punished for some baby sized sin?  (NO, by the way, IMPOSSIBLE).  Was his life taken because G-d decided during those 10 days in 2010 that Ted and I would be written onto to list of people who would suffer?  And, if so, (and I am not going to argue with G-d that somehow I didn't deserve this punishment - because I can be arrogant, and egomaniacal, and superficial, and prone to holding grudges - maybe I DID deserve the ultimate form of punishment...but then) why did Max end up the one whose life was taken?  Why not me then? WHY?  Why? Why? Why?  

I can't wrap my brain around any of it. And, I refuse to accept it all as is. There has to be more to the story.  THERE HAS TO BE. Ted reminds me often that this line of thinking that I am stuck in constantly is an exercise in futility. I will never know....and of course, he is right.

Tomorrow - we will be in Synagogue again - for Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) - the day that the Book is sealed for the year.  I wonder what we can expect in this next year.  Have Ted and I paid enough?  Will we be rewarded for having endured the suffering?  Will the mistakes we made cause the life of some innocent to be destroyed?  Have we spent enough time apologizing to everyone we may have hurt over the last year (I can only speak for myself - NOPE)? Will we find the strength to keep rebuilding our lives (because there are many ways that it feels like we've had to start from scratch since losing Max)?  I don't know.  What I will focus on tomorrow is this: "Praised be the Lord our G-d, who grants eternal life to the deceased". It is really the only thing that matters to me right now. What's done is done - I only have the future to look forward to now.

Myla Five Months

Our little girl is five months old today!  She is a sweet and easy baby.  She is chubby, chubby, chubby and super happy.  She loves getting kisses and hugs and being held.  She also loves getting attention from her big brother, which happens sporadically but also intensely.  We love her more each day!

For some reason, I have trouble catching her smiles in photos but she actually smiles a lot.....and, boy, is it cute!

Social

I know it's confusing for people who know me and even those who are new in my life to understand that I suffer from social anxiety.  This anxiety is fairly new (since losing Max), it isn't crippling (thank god), it isn't always visible, and I am pretty good at faking comfort and confidence in social situations even if my heart is racing and I am feeling either completely removed (preferable) or freaked out (not preferable). This confusion has led to some really awful interactions and hurt feelings for me and others and at times has only served to cause me increased anxiety. I find that even when I warn people ahead of time, their expectations of me are just not realistic.

In the first year or two after losing Max, I hated to leave my house - my only comfort zone. If I left, I ideally wanted to know exactly who would be wherever I was going so I could prepare myself.  Being around people I didn't know was really really hard.  I was sad all of the time and couldn't fake my way through pretending to be anyone other than a grieving mother....I had no other identity in my early grief.  I couldn't concentrate on what anyone was saying.  I couldn't (not wouldn't - but COULDN'T) make small talk.  Being introduced to people or reintroduced to people I didn't know very well or at all scared me.  I felt too exposed and my brain was just not firing off the connections that would enable me to shmooze.  I knew that I was probably seen as unfriendly and uninterested - and the truth is that I was.  I had no interest in anything except talking about, brooding over, and missing Max. 

After a year and a half or two years, I grew a thicker skin.  The best way I can describe it is to think about how you feel when you are watching a particularly horrific story on the news - about a beheading, or something terrible happening to children, or people living in unlivable circumstances - your thick skin is what gives you the ability to change the channels, forget about what you just saw and just keep eating dinner.  Imagine that you couldn't change the channel.  You couldn't erase the images you'd just seen.  That is how I lived for a long time.

Today I leave my home.  All of the time.  I go to parties, and play groups, and I have even traveled for work several times this year.  I freak out for days (sometimes weeks) before entering nearly every single new environment.  Traveling to Israel twice this year caused me so much more anxiety than I can possibly describe.  Knowing that I would have very little (if any) down time, being with mostly new people who don't know me or my story, the fear of being asked about how many children I have..... it was so overwhelming. These trips had the added bonus of also taking me away from my kids for days on end, which also brought up a lot of the emotions (guilt, fear, dread, distrust) I have surrounding losing Maxie while he was at daycare.  At times I was removed and sullen - I felt misunderstood and isolated.  Keenly aware that I needed to figure out how to be a more upbeat and positive personality - like the one you are supposed to have while staffing a group of people in a foreign country. It was a challenge.

Of course I find that, most of the time, putting myself in new and unfamiliar situations is worth the anxiousness that is provoked.  I wouldn't keep putting myself out there if I didn't think it was worth it.  It is still hard though.  Much harder than it ever was for me in the past.  Sometimes the anxiety that the potential situation provokes is too much for me and I either decline the invitation or end up participating and feeling very aware of the fact that I am in no place to be around new people.

If you invite me someplace new - I am grateful for the invitation.  If you are with me someplace and I seem to go from friendly and engaged to sort of removed.  If you wonder why I am not as excited about the upcoming event as I once was - this is why.  I appreciate that you think I've pulled my act together.  I want you to know that I haven't.  I am still working hard on it though and taking more chances than I ever thought I would.  Give me some time.  Give me some space.  And, please, please, please - try not to take it personally.

Familiar

Ladies: Does this sound familiar?

Your husband comes home from work a little early and he's in a great mood.  He hugs and kisses you and is smiling ear to ear.  He's a little more cozy, lovey/dovey than usual...and you are thinking: "Wow! What a nice treat!". Not that he's usually an a-hole or anything - there's just a usual hustle and bustle to the evenings that seems lifted on this particular night. 

And then it hits you - his football team is playing tonight. As soon as that tv goes on, you will cease to exist for the evening in his mind. It isn't a special treat! It's Monday night football!!!  Grrrr.

As the game starts, you think, "This isn't so bad. As soon as I get the kids to sleep, I'll have the whole night to myself! I'll read...no, I'll watch tv in the other room, no the baby is sleeping in there...so, I'll read... or work on a long overdue project. The possibilities are endless really, and it's great to see him so happy.      

And then the other team scores and you remember that if his team loses, he won't be SO happy anymore. And, it looks like his team is gonna lose. And suddenly your night seems kind of bleak, and you're not sure why- because you don't even really LIKE football. Most likely you will go to sleep long before he makes it to bed, because he will probably fall asleep on the couch watching highlights. 

Anyway, just wondering if this sounds at all familiar?

One hot weekend!

Our air conditioning broke this weekend, and if you live in the LA area, you know that it was the worst weekend for a broken air conditioning. To be specific, the motor died - from a long year (I'd argue three years) of heat. It's just been running constantly for as long as I can remember. This past weekend, the temperature was well over 100 degrees both days. Somewhat miserable - but also a good excuse to wade in a plastic child's pool, hose each other down and finally escape to grandma'a house. Seriously - it was rough.

Saturday was also our five year wedding anniversary. I think we've lived five lifetimes in these past five years. It was worth celebrating. We got a babysitter and Ted surprised me by taking me to "Inn of the Seventh Ray" in Topanga Canyon. It is actually where we went after our "legal" marriage five years ago. (We had to sign the marriage certificate in the rabbis office here in the States about a month before our religious wedding, which we consider the "real" wedding in Costa Rica on 9-6-9.) As we pulled up to the restaurant we noticed people looking pretty dressed up and I worried. Ted and I looked nice (if you consider a casual dress for me, and khakis with a collared shirt for him, and flip flops nice) but these people were in cocktail attire. Then we saw a guy dressed like my dad (nice jeans and a pressed Hawaiian shirt and boat shoes) and figured we'd be ok. When we got closer, we noticed that we knew one of the nicely dressed couples.  It was my friend Matt's brother, Greg, and his wife, Lauren. They excitedly told us that Matt and Ann were there too - for a cousins wedding! So, Ted and I did what I most like to do next - crashed a wedding. Well, we went down at least, found Matt and Ann, had a drink with them and met the groom, before going to the part of the restaurant not being used for the wedding and had a lovely dinner. It was a funny coincidence. Had we had a little more champagne, I would have insisted on going back after dinner for some late night boogies. But we were both tired and stuffed. 

Happy Anniversary Teddy, my love. Thank you for being my best friend and support. And, thank you most today for sending the HVAC guy over here to replace the AC motor!!!  I love you!

Still

I've been working really hard to get everything organized for Maxie's Birthday Benefit - on October 12th. I find that the event brings up so much sadness for me, in so many different ways. I just don't know if it is something I should do again after this year.

A couple of days ago, I posted to an online mommy group to see if I could find any potential sponsors or silent auction donors. I am having such a hard time getting donations this year - I am hoping it will pick up. Anyway, last year I posted to the same mommy group and I got a donation for a pass to the Magic Castle, so I figured I'd try again. This year, so far, I've gotten 3 emails telling me how sad my post made them - which was nice. I also got an email that I can't shake.  A woman wrote to say that her son was a year younger than Max would be.  When he was only 5 months old, he went into cardiac arrest and stopped breathing.  She immediately gave him CPR and then he was rushed to the hospital where he was put on life support. They spent two days in the hospital, and the boy was given a 15% chance of survival.  Somehow he pulled through and is alive today. She still suffers from PTSD (I'm not surprised) and is afraid every day that it will happen again (of course she is).

I know I should only feel happiness for this family and this little boy at hearing this story. I do feel those things. For sure I do. But I also feel jealousy and guilt and anger. If we had kept Max on life support for a few days more, would he have lived? Why did her boy live and mine died? What more could I have done? Why didn't I keep him home that day (or every day)? If he had been with me, would he still be alive?

I've been missing my baby like crazy these days. After Ted left for work this morning, I had a dream - that it was all a nightmare. Maxie was alive. I was watching him, awake in his crib, on the monitor. It was his face, his big blue eyes, his little tummy and pale skin. This whole thing was over - as if it had never happened. Understand that I pray for dreams like this every single day, but having one really throws me. Why isn't he here? Why did his story not turn out like hers? I can't tell you how much I wish it were me, reading her post, emailing her my story of my living child, and then telling her that I hug my child a little tighter.  I'm having a really rough time - Still.

It's so unfair.  It's so unfair.  It's so unfair.  It's so unfair.  It's so unfair.  

Making space

When people spend time with me today, I believe that they are pleased to see that I have "recovered".  They believe that I have put the whole terrible episode of losing my son behind me and am now living a near perfect life - with an adoring husband and two beautiful children.  They often tell me how "great" I am doing.  I don't think that they have any idea that I am thinking about Max all of the time.  I am never not thinking about him.  Never.  I still have intense episodes of PTSD, I still have nightmares, I still wonder daily what I could have done differently, I still see other children who are four years old and watch with complete amazement that my child would be this age now.  It hurts all of the time, whether you see it or not.

When people interact with me these days, what I don't think they realize is that I don't have the capacity or patience for the little dramas that used to be at the forefront of my life: this one is mad at me because I forgot to return their last phone call, that one thinks I am mean, the other one is creating some big drama about a misunderstanding at work.  I get caught up in it for an hour or two - and then I realize - it's all nonsense.  What Ted and I have been through pales all of the little made-up dramatics that life and people present.  Those dramas are a luxury.  They don't make even a small difference in the big picture of life.

I am not a perfect person.  I am not sweet as honey - never have been.  I can be acerbic and sarcastic.  That's always been my personality.  Some people get me and like me and some people don't.  I tend to be drawn to people who are like me in this way: a little salty: people who like to tease and be teased.  Of course, not everyone in my life is like that.  That's ok too.  I will do my best to hear and appreciate you but sometimes my head and my heart are someplace else.  There are big traumas in life and there are smaller ones.  I tend to focus on the bigger ones.  If you care about me, I hope you will try to understand that.  If you don't understand that - that's ok too.  I've only got so much room in my heart and time on my hands these days, as I am sure you do too. 

Myla's Four Months Old

I've already told you about what an easy baby Myla is and how much we love her.  Today she turned 4 months old.  Here is her photo recap:

She's doing great!

Myla is doing awesome!  She is CHUBBY.  She's gained about 6 pounds since coming to live with us almost two months ago.  She smiles a lot, sleeps a lot and drinks a ton of formula.  She is an easy baby.  I know I've said that about all of my babies but I think she might even be easier than the boys.  She likes swinging, sitting in her rainforest bouncer, being pulled up to stand and she is a tummy time champ.  We all love her so much!

Unfriendly

A few weeks ago, I was in my local grocery store.  The one that I avoided for more than a year after Maxie died.  I hated being in there because I'd been in there so many times with Max.  I worried about running into the people that ran his daycare (because I'd seen them shopping in there before he died).  I also dreaded running into my friend, the grocer, who had a little girl about a month after Maxie was born.

I wrote about finally biting the bullet and going there.  It is really the best and most well organized market in our area.  It is also the closest - like walking distance.  So, for the past few months, I've been going there instead of the all of the other options.  I ALWAYS see my grocer friend and I avoid him like the plague.  The first few times, I politely said hi but then immediately darted off before he could make conversation with me.  But, then I just started to see him and go down whatever aisle he wasn't in.  Since he is almost always in the produce section, I had to make my away around without being wherever he was - which was awkward.  Finally he got the hint and started avoiding me too - and then he moved on to giving me dirty looks and shaking his head whenever he saw me come in.

Of course I understand why he thinks I am the A-hole.  We used to always catch up on our families together and then one day I disappeared, and when I reappeared, I wasn't the same friendly person.  The truth is that he is not the only one who is a victim of my unfriendliness.  I went from being a very outgoing and sociable person to MUCH more of a cold introvert.  I can't take chit chat anymore.  I'm looking out for my own well-being.  I'm just not that nice anymore.  And, honestly, that's ok with me.

But, I hated the dirty looks, eye rolls and head shakes he was always throwing my way - and, I am not sure why but I finally decided to explain to him why I ignore him.  About a month ago, I walked right up to him and said, "You may remember that my son was born about a month before your daughter.  You and I always used to talk and catch up about the babies.  I am sure you have noticed that I am not as friendly as I used to be (author's note: UNDERSTATEMENT).  My son stopped breathing and died when he was nine and a half months old while he was at daycare.  Catching up with people who had babies when I did makes me too sad, so I avoid them.  I am sorry."

He looked me right in the eye and said with a big smile, "I was wondering what was going on.  Ok.  That makes more sense.  Glad to know it."  Hmmmmm.  Not "I'm sorry".  Not "How effing horrible".  Not "Oh my god!  You and your poor husband"......Not ANY kind of acknowledgement at all that I'd just told him of the greatest possible tragedy that I could ever imagine suffering. Just a look of relief that he finally understood what had happened.  And, I know I caught him off guard.  And, I know that he meant well (did he? I'm saying I "know" it because that is what I've been told).  But, I don't know - sometimes I wish I'd just stuck with being unfriendly.

Peace

I couldn't come all the way to Israel without visiting Maxie's Forest. I made the trip there Friday with my friend Tali, her Fiancé Asaf, and my cousin Leslie. It took us a while to find because the entrance is not obvious. We drove in and out of several roads in the Ofer Forest area of the Carmel before finally arriving in the familiar parking lot.

It's odd to me, in a way, that a place where Max never was and never will be can feel so full of Max. When people ask me if I feel his spirit there, I hesitate, because that isn't what I feel. I think what I feel instead is the love of everyone who supported us in creating this monument to him. I also deeply feel an immediate reaction to the wording we used on his pilar - which is the same as on his gravestone (and tattooed on Ted's arm). It gives me an immediate sense of HIS knowing that I am there and missing him. 

I don't LOVE Maxie's Forest. I hate it. I hate having a memorial to my son. It just is what it is though and considering the fact that I can't change what is - it is tremendously meaningful to have this destination point in his honor.  It gives me the opportunity to stand back and reflect on him and my life without him. It's not unlike visiting the cemetery - except for that instead of being surrounded by death, it feels surrounded by hope. The pillar marking Maxie's name is surrounded by pillars marking other names - people and organizations and communities who contributed to replant the Carmel Forest after a raging and tragic fire that happened only a couple of months after Maxie's birth. Tree by tree, people contributed to replant a mighty forest that was actually once my backyard. It speaks to me in so many ways - like how each breath, each act of kindness, each cuddle with Mo, Myla and Ted, each day that has passed since losing my beautiful boy, has slowly begun to rebuild a new spirit inside of me.

We've been here during a very hard time this summer. The images, stories, and remnants of war are everywhere. We've travelled up and down the country clinging (as all Israelis and Palestinians have been) to a very fragile ceasefire. We haven't heard one siren. I haven't had to visit the bomb shelter once. But I got here after such a tense time. The nerves of everyone around us are frayed and their hearts are all broken. Their dreams of peace seem to be crushed. Maybe there is no way out of this - they are finally saying. A much different tune than was being sung than during the first period that I lived here in 1994 after Oslo had infused the nation with hope.  

I remember in those days, we'd walk from my Kibbutz, Beit Haemek, to the nearby Arab town of Kfar Yassif all of the time. It was cheaper than taking a cab into the nearest city (only 5 minutes away) of Nahariya. The surrounding Arab villages soccer teams would regularly practice on our kibbutz field and there were tournaments in the area between the Arab and Jewish teams. I'm told the kibbutz members don't really visit the village anymore. How it was is the way it should be.

On our way out of Maxie's Forest, I saw a big truck and took a video for Mo. I realized that it was a KKL - JNF truck (the organization I work for) and got excited. It looked brand spanking new, which likely means it was donated after the 2010 fires.  The truck pulled over and the ranger came out to meet us.  "I work for JNF-USA", I told him in Hebrew. "I know", he said - his accent very Arabic "I could feel it", he said with his eyes smiling at me. We spoke to him for a while. His name is Jamal and he is a Muslim Arab from a nearby village - a place where massive rioting had been taking place only days earlier.  Jamal explained that he is a ranger who takes care of this part of the Forest - Maxie's part. He knows every inch - every tree - every bump in the road.

Thanks to my friend Tali, Leslie and I got an impromptu tour in Jamal's truck up through the reforestation area. He spoke to us of his family, the fires, and his work in the forest. Its comforting somehow to know who is looking after Maxie's trees. 

The expectation that I will find internal peace among those trees is unrealistic at this stage. I've been too hurt, I am too heartbroken, I am too sad to feel deep peace today.  It will be a long time before I can visit that place without completely breaking down. But each year that passes, each visit here, each breath I take, brings me a little closer.  I still feel very hopeful about that.

I also believe that it is unrealistic to think that Israelis and Palestinians will find peace anytime soon.  What I do know is that there are people who are willing to look beyond the religion of their neighbor on both sides of the fence.  Meeting Jamal, listening to him to tell the story of the forest, having him take us through with so much enthusiasm reminded me of the Israel that can be and maybe will be once again.  In the meantime, there is a lot of healing to be done.  Peace takes time...

Israel calling...

It's my sixth day in Israel! My seventh day away from my kids. I miss them so much. My arms are aching to hold them. I've been trying to distract myself because it's making me really sad.  It's the teeniest, tiniest amount of time away. It really begs the question - how have I lived this long without Max?

Being in Israel is really special for me. I love it here. Say whatever you want about the place - fact is, it's beautiful, it's diverse, it's complex, and it's endlessly interesting.  Nowhere on earth do I feel like I am fully myself in the way that I am here. And there is no cult of personality when it comes to views on politics, religion or anything else. There are Orthodox Jews and Secular Jews and everyone in between. There are Christians, Muslims, Ba'hai, Druze and many more. It is a nation of immigrants- Russians, Ethiopians, Asians, Africans, Europeans, Latinos, North Americans. There are those on the left, those on the right, and those in the center - and the closer you get to the borders, the more you meet Israelis who really hold on to the hope for future peace. Israel is the only country in the Middle East that has a thriving openly gay community and annual pride events. Women are respected and well educated here.  Honor killings are illegal. I'm not saying there aren't issues - there ARE. I'm saying it's a place where anything is possible. It is a democracy in a place where democracies don't exist. You may not like the government (I certainly don't always like Israel's or my own government), but it is the government that has been elected by it's people. To be a Zionist Jew in the United States often feels like it means to support Israel - right or wrong. To be a Zionist in Israel means to believe in the dream of a Jewish homeland for the Jewish people in our ancestral land. I choose to be an Israeli Zionist - even though I'm only an Israeli in my heart. I can disapprove of whatever I want - but until I move here, my opinions are just opinions.

But what I really want to say is that every time I'm here, I'm moved in a different way. This time I was moved by a plane of over 300 new immigrants, including over 100 singles, who landed at Ben Gurion airport on Tuesday morning. We were there to greet them, along with hundreds of others.  The plane landed and bus loads of Olim (immigrants) pulled up one by one to joyful family members and friends, tearful embraces, whole families of t-shirts exclaiming "Welcome home so and so!", israeli folk music and dancing and flags waiving through the air. Unless you're a Jew or been in Israel yourself, you may not be able to grasp why this invokes so much emotion in me.  I'm tearing up thinking about and it feels so awesome to be crying for something I find incredibly moving instead of crying for something completely devastating.

My cousin Leslie and I at the ceremony for New Olim (immigrants)

I've thought about coming here many many times to live forever throughout my life. I wanted (still want at times) to be able to be a pioneer, like the early community builders. I thought about it a lot most recently after losing Max. To be a parent whose lost their child can feel so isolating. Sadly in Israel, I wouldn't have to look far to find a community of grieving parents.  I've found that for the most part, when I tell my story to Israelis- they don't try to talk me out of it. They don't think that losing my child is something I need to get over. They know exactly what it means to carry around a gigantic burden with you everywhere you go - and to me, that's refreshing. No pretending. No false nonsense. Real life. It barely gets more real than all this.

Off again

Saying goodbye to Mo just now sucked. He's gotten to the age where he knows that if I'm walking out the door with a suitcase, I'm going away for a while. All morning he was clingy - he's always clingy - but this was extreme. I feel clingy too.  His new nanny (more on that later) wanted to sit him down for breakfast and I found myself asking her to please give us more time. Leaving him is painful. And, it brings up so much of my missing Maxie. Living without Mo and Myla for the next ten days will be so hard. Living without Max for the rest of my life isn't even doable. 

And, honestly, I can barely stand listening to parents get all weepy about their kid that is going to camp for a week or away to school. In my estimation - those parents are LUCKY! Their kid will come back or they will go visit - the dramatics are wasted on me. But I can remember being at a wedding away from Maxie for a long weekend, and I couldn't concentrate on anything. I just needed to be back with him. And here I am, sitting in my taxi cab, getting weepy over leaving Mo and Myla for ten days. Sometimes I want to slap myself.

I had such a good time in Israel in February.  The experience actually brought back a huge piece of my old self. I am hoping that this trip will be similar (or totally different but with a similar outcome). I'll miss my family - but they'll most likely be here when I get back. 

Off to the Holy Land! Hoping this cease-fire lasts and that we can just enjoy the week!!!

Not scary in the way you think...

I'm pretty sure that I've mentioned that I am going to Israel this week.  If I haven't - now you know.  I am going for 10 days - for work.  This trip has been in the works for several months.  I've been planning it since before I knew about Myla, and before there was a war (or rather, "active operation") going on in Israel/Gaza.  Yes, I am still going.  No, I don't really have a choice.  And - to answer your question, I have mixed feelings about it....maybe for the first time ever. 

Don't get excited - I am not going to talk about politics.....much.  Suffice it to say that I believe that the Israelis have a right to defend themselves, that Palestinians deserve much better leadership than a terrorist group (Hamas) that doesn't value human life, and that the death toll is staggering and I believe that the death of ANY human being is a tragedy - especially a child.  It is a mess and so tragic and I can't see a way out of it from either side.  Rabbi Sharon Brous wrote an article recently that reflects my feelings pretty accurately.  I don't really want to get into a political argument about it though.  I just know it is on your mind, hearing that I am going to Israel.

I've spent significant time in Israel during some scary times - during both the first and second intifada, in the period when Rabin was killed and the Oslo agreement fell apart, and so many other periods of unrest and attacks.  It felt MUCH MUCH scarier to be living in Israel during times when suicide bombings were happening daily - on buses, in restaurants, on beaches, in pubs - especially considering these were the places I frequented.  In the back of my mind, there was always a nagging feeling that I shouldn't feel as safe as I did.  In 2004, I lost a friend in a suicide attack.  He was killed along with most of his family while sitting in a hummus joint in Haifa - the city I used to live in - where things like that don't generally happen.  If I didn't learn then - I certainly have learned since that you should never just assume that bad things happen to "other" people.  Bad things are random - they can happen to anyone. 

Frankly, I am not that scared about the bad things happening to me while I am away.  Today there are non-stop rocket attacks - but rockets have been falling on Israel's Southern region for years and I have continued to visit.  All of the bus stops are bomb shelters.  There are sirens warning of impending attacks.  There is time to try and get to a safe place.  This somehow feels less scary to me than those random suicide attacks.  I say all of this as a tourist.  I have no idea what living in that situation feels like and I can only imagine that having sirens going off all day long while you frantically gather up your children and bring them into a bomb shelter feels complete unbearable.  My point really is that while I am a little nervous about all of that - it isn't really what's making me feel uneasy about this trip.   Because I AM feeling uneasy.

When I was pregnant with Max, a board member of mine in LA was trying to convince me to staff a trip to Israel soon after his birth.  I actually considered it because I had NO idea how hard it would be to leave my child just to go to work each day.  I am always grateful that I decided not to go on that trip.  It would have been SO hard.  Max was only 3 months or so, I was still breastfeeding (which would have meant pumping on the bus) and I was so attached to him that I think I would have been dysfunctional anyway.  Since his death, I've thought many times about how much I would have regretted going on that trip and missing a week of his life.  And yet, here I am - leaving Myla, a 3 month old, for a whole 10 days.  We've only had her for a month and the bonding is in full swing.  I adore her and we fought SO hard to bring her home.  I just can't believe I am leaving her.  It feels irresponsible and scary.  Yes, she will be in the care of people (nanny and babysitter) that I trust - but so was Max when he died.  I'm not saying that I think she is going to die.  I am just saying - my buttons are being pushed - HARD.  Leaving Mo is hard enough (because it just is - I miss him when he sleeps - I love having him around all of the time), but this is different. 

Am I scared about traveling to Israel?  That is what people keep asking me.  I guess the honest answer is: a little.  But, SO MUCH MORE SCARY to me is letting go and being away from my family.  I can't wait to come home.

Myla - 3 Months Old

Our Myla is three months old today! She eats every two hours except at night (thank goodness), when she generally only wakes up once. She looks like she's put on a lot of weight since she came home.  She loves hanging out in her swing, her rainforest jumper and napping all wrapped up.  She has a very admiring older brother, who gives her lots of hugs and kisses. She's super mellow and cute and we love her a lot.

Action packed

We've had a busy weekend.  Mo and Myla's Gigi, Papa, Auntie Beth and Cousin Sadie came to visit. Mo has been having a blast with his family and everyone has been enjoying Myla.  Ted's family came in for the last three days of activities, which included Mo's second birthday party, Myla's Jewish conversion and a family trip to Disneyland. 

Mo's birthday was awesome.  Since Mo is SO super into animals, we decided to rent a petting zoo.  We couldn't decide if it was a little over the top but figured that we actually have the perfect backyard for farm animals, we might as well make use of it.  When Mo woke up from his nap on Sunday, he had a really awesome surprise - a mini horse, sheep, rabbits, chickens, ducks and a giant tortoise.  Mo LOVED the animals, but I think he loved the animal handler even more.  The first thing he did was walk over to her, grab her hat and stick it on his own head - and then he very seriously pet, chased, and was terrorized by all of critters behind the fence.

I'm pretty sure that the animals were a hit.

All of the kids really enjoyed them.....even if it looked, at times, like they were longing to escape:

On Monday, Myla became a Jew.  She was converted in the Mikveh (ritual bath) at American Jewish University - the only multi-denominational Mikveh on our coast from Mexico to San Francisco.  It was a really special ceremony, with lots of meaning for us.  The woman who ran the Mikveh explained that there were many reasons that people use the mikveh - not only for conversion - but also for new beginnings and to wash away old traumas and to mark special occasions.  We loved the idea of Myla starting a new beginning - not only as a Jew, but as our daughter.  Our families joined us - it was really special.

Yesterday, we took Mo and went with Teddy's extended family (his Aunt Jan, her husband Ian, her two daughters and their husbands and children, along with Auntie Beth, Sadie, Gigi and Papa) to Disneyland - my favorite place on earth.  Yes, even today, as a 40 year old woman - I LOVE Disneyland. I wondered if Mo would "get it" or even have fun.  No need to worry at all! He loved it. He was even a super trooper in the ride lines - which is more than I can say about the adults. This kid took no nap at all and still managed to stay in great spirits for most of the day (with a very small exception on our way out of the park). Seeing him having so much fun was the best fun ever. I can't wait to go back with him!!