I'm a Savta! (Again!)

 (nablopomo day 27)

I was on pins and needles all Thursday and Friday, knowing that my daughter-in-law's due date had passed (June 24th), and not having  heard a word.

Then, around 12:30 p.m. on Shabbat, the phone rang.  I jumped up and ran to look at the caller I.D. As you might already know from reading this blog (-you do read this blog, don't you?!), we are Jewish and observant, and consequently do not use the phone on Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath.

So basically, all I could do with the phone was...look at it!.  I saw that it was a call from Israel, so I rapidly slid down the bannister (well, not exactly, but it sure felt like it) to the main level in our townhome, where the kitchen is and our phone recording machine, and hopped from one leg to the other waiting for the message (bet you didn't know I could hop, either).

Sure enough, it was my older son, Mr. Arnold Mayergi, sounding excited and exhausted at the same time--don't they always go together, though,when you're giving birth--telling us that he and his lovely wife Hardally, were at the hospital!  Yes!  Finally! 

So of course from that point on, I was on shpilkes* for the rest of day, waiting to hear and not being able to do anything about it--feeling totally frustrated not being there for them.

We were the only set of parents not there; actually; since there are only two sets of parents, that's not so bad, eh? No, but seriously, Hardally comes from a large family, same as ourselves, with five siblings, and I'll make you a bet the whole hamulah--translation: all of 'em--were there.

In contrast, my son had only his "baby" sister, Rambo who was able to come (and I think she was only able to get there just after the baby was born, by twenty minutes or so); his younger brother, Nathaniel Blumenstein, will be visiting them tomorrow.  He couldn't today, because he was packing up to move his little family and worldly possessions out of his rented apartment, and eventually a twenty-minute drive away into one he just bought and signed for on Friday, in a different town.  Talk about multiple stresses--but thank G-d, it's all for the good.

Unfortunately, none of the U.S.-branch family could come, which included 2 parents, 2 siblings, a brother-in-law, a grandma and various and sundry aunts, uncles and cousins.  It is so difficult when you are in financial straits and so far away.  I'm sure my son would have appreciated our being there, but it couldn't be helped.  It's hard not to feel guilty about this though, somehow--guess I am only exercising my right as a. . .Jewish mother!

'Meanwhile, 'back at the ranch' as we say here in the West,  I was waiting and waiting for another word. My son had said in his message that he'd call me back as there was more news to report. So I went in the afternoon to visit my friend and neighbor, with the nagging thought that I was missing hearing a phone message, but none came.

When Shabbat ended after nine o'clock at night, we made havdalah (we tried to sing fast), and there was still no news, so I called Rambo.  It was about 7:00 a.m. there, and she didn't answer, still fast asleep I found out later, when she called back at 8:00 a.m. her time.  She was at N.B.'s place (her younger-older brother), helping him pack up the apartment in order to move. 

It never rains, but it pours--all three kids were going at breakneck speed: younger son moving, older son having a baby, and youngest daughter taking buses and taxis, running from one to the other, trying to help them both.  Later she grabbed a cab the last leg of the way (after bargaining the cab driver down 5 shekel--hey, let's not waste an opportunity, right?) and told the driver to step on it.

So when I called Rambo, she said that her brother told her that they were going to induce labor, as the doctors were concerned, about 'low amniotic fluid'--I don't know which sounds worse, that, or it's medical name--oligohydramnios. 

Not having ever had that situation myself, but nevertheless having been induced (with Rambo, as a matter of fact.  Which sorta explains everything), I worried about Hardally, remembering how painful and difficult induced contractions are.  And in my case, it was my last pregnancy, not my first, which if it had been, might have totally turned me off to having any more kids--so I was doubly concerned about my daughter-in-law.  In short, I would definitely wish induced-labor-pain on my enemies--no question about it.

To make a long story short, after hours of difficult, induced labor (and a chance of an emergency C-section), my daughter-in-law was able to give birth naturally, to a healthy baby girl, 6 lbs. 6 oz. - same average size as my kids, actually.  My son said that (ptu, ptu, ptu!) she is beautiful, with a head of dark hair, his wife's beautiful dark eyes, his chin, and Lady-Light's family's nose!

All I can say at this point is, thank G-d.  There is nothing else.  Oh, wait, there is: pray, send us the money, oh Lord, so that we can get there!!

*shpilkes:Yiddish, for pins & needles, as in, 'sitting on pins and needles.'


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