New baby: here vs there

Baby-girl Nili was born on November 2nd in the Ihilov Hospital in TelAviv, a few days ahead of the scheduled C-section.

First, there was her name selection, and it was not easy. Feeling loyal to all the cultures and languages we come from and speak, we wanted a Hebrew name that sounds pleasant in English and Russian. Moshe and the kids insisted on the name to start with "N" like Naor and Nadia. Kids didn't want the name to remind them of anyone they don't like. Grandparents had to approve the name. And with a short last name like ours we needed the first name to have at least two syllables. The beautiful Hebrew name "Noga" was out of the question because Noga with emphasis on "a" means a leg in Russian. Another name we really liked - Naomi - was ruled out as it is pronounced with a different emphasis in English and Hebrew and we decided to spare the correction work from our daughter. You see, it is miracle we came up with a name at all and managed to maintain peace in the family.

Second, there was delivery. Ihilov hospital is one of the largest hospitals in Israel, it does 11,000 births each year. Exactly like with our American-born kids, Nili decided to break the waters a few days of the scheduled C-section. The admittance and surgery went quite similarly to the US hospitals. However, the majority of the doctors were men while in the Brigham and Mt Auburn hospitals in Boston they were women. I felt like a raw chicken spread on a small cutting board. The only thing that kept my dignity was the professional pedicure and manicure that I managed to squeeze the day before.

The baby was doing great and well-taken care off. But my post-operation recovery was difficult. While in the US we got spoiled with a private patient rooms featuring big bed for the patient, convertible chair-couch for the partner, flat screen TV on the wall, food service delivered to your bed, nurses and doctors visiting every few hours and over-medication for pain, Israeli hospital offered nothing close. A few hours after the surgery I was wheeled into a tiny room that already had two miserable patients. When Moshe complained, nurse offered to place my bed in the hallway. The room didn't have any place to bring baby bassinet so I couldn't see our daughter before I could walk all the way to the newborn room (15 hours after the surgery). I had to take some medicine with the food but had nowhere to place a plate of food other than on my freshly sewed belly. Moshe ended up going to work because while I was under morphine and happy with anything, he was awake for over 30 hours, exhausted, angry and only had two-by-two foot of space to stand next to me while other patients squeezed by in the universally terrible flower gowns.


Looking back at the whole hospital experience I realize that in Israel the whole birth recovery is centered only around a child while in the US it is a mom and a child. An obstetrician in the hospital told me that in Israel we do not treat childbirth as a sickness and therefore do not wrap moms with as much care as the newborns that are still unprepared for this life. I wonder if she knew that US insurance companies indeed classify childbirth as a long-term disability.

The kids are all right, the moms are not. Newborns get brand names: Pumpers and Huggies diapers, wipes and Dr Fisher creams while moms are offered only the cheapest pads. And moms are the ones who bleed. Baby nurses are patient, polite and cheerful. Moms' nurses are tired, angry and rough. On the 3rd day my daughter asked to look at my C-section cut and we were both shocked to realize that I have staples. How come no one mentioned this to me before?

It seems that in the US there is a trend toward overmedication for the mom. I was advised to take Percocet and, if I recollect well, up to 4 Tyleonols every 4 hours. Doctor explained to me that recovery after a C-section is difficult and I should use painkillers to make myself comfortable so that I can concentrate on the baby and breastfeeding. In Israel doctors refused to give me Percocet and anything stronger than 1 gram of Optalgin, for which I had to walk all the way to the nursery and beg for every 4 hours. By the way, Optalgin, which is so popular here, is apparently not approved by the FDA due to some potential side-effects.

Throughout my stay in the Ihilov hospital I felt that I am under-performing according to doctors and nurses expectations: feeling weak, not recovering fast enough, complaining about the pain, forgetting to clean the cut. Not tough enough for this culture. Post-surgery time is never easy, but somehow in the US I was treated as a super star that accomplished something - created a new life and deserve a good rest, assistance in walking, bathing, food delivered to the bed and medical care. This whole experience reminded me of the opinion my daughter offers when someone asks her to compare school in Israel to the schools in the US. She answers: "In the US we were treated as kids. Here they treat us like adults - the tone of voice, the demands, the language." Perhaps we were spoiled in the US and here Israeli reality managed to create tougher human beings who in childhood do not cry in response to a strict teacher's voice and as adults can dismiss the pain even in a weak and sleepless state.

Lastly, there was a sweet homecoming. Baby Nili got 3 pages worth of instructions on how to be taken care of, I got 3 lines. No instructions on when I can drive, have sex, exercise, stop bleeding, expect to be done with the pain. But we were finally home, surrounded by love and support of our families and friends. Kids made fliers and inflated balloons, the house was full of flowers and presents. Naor was the first to announce on the internet that he got a cute little sister. He also surprised us by voluntarily  lowering the volume of a football game when Nili was in his lap. Nadia told me: "Mommy, thank you for making something so beautiful." However, both of them also complained that their lives got more hectic with the new creature, all her equipment and grandparents in the house.


My mom did come to help us in the US for a few weeks when each of the older kids was born, but now it was very different. We were wrapped in family help from all the sides. Grandmothers brought us loads of food and help with laundry; relatives took turn driving Naor to swim practices while I still couldn't drive; my father moved to stay with us and cuddles Nili while I am catching up on sleep or trying to keep up with all the errands; he built us a co-sleeper and taught us all funny card games that we all play into the night laughing so hard that my staples almost burst. There is always someone who takes kids to school and picks them up. There are piles of baby clothes and baby equipment from our siblings, and advices on how to clean her tush and eyes, whether I should take some Iron supplement or chicken liver. We are happy and relaxed. We are at home.

High holidays with the family: the best of it, the worst of it, plus the food.

Proximity to the family has always been a big source of discussion for all the Israelis in the US who, like us, found themselves bringing up their kids half way across the world from the rest of their relatives. The arguments were:

• Kids need a family to be loved by.  They also need someone (other than webkinz)  to reciprocate with affection and care.  The larger this circle of love and support is, the more comfort and confidence it gives our kids. However, this love is also expressed through the smoochy lipsticky kisses from your aunt and you being called strange chicken names like"Kapara sheli."
• Who are we going to invite to our son's Bar Mitzvah? Not enough relatives in the US, too many relatives in Israel.
• Parents are getting older and it is so difficult to advise, support and help them from across the ocean.  On the other hand we can provide them with a secondary medical opinion and some material support from the US.
• Israel offers a plenitude of family babysitters. Chess or biking with grandpa is priceless. But don't be surprised that your kids have learned a song from grandma about teacher's underwear by the morning. Or that your mom told your son that boys don't cry.
• Need help moving furniture? If this would be in Israel I could call my brother, brother-in-law or my uncle.  Whom can I call here on a spur of the moment? At the same time, no favors taken means no favors returned.
• You are used to getting family phone calls once-a-week, in Israel everyone will be calling you daily.
• Your weekends, they belong to you in the US. In Israel, they are shorter and they belong to your extended family.

All these short previews we played in our heads turned into realistic melodramas since we arrived to Israel.  However, while in the dark cold night in Boston we were focusing on the worst of it, waking up in sweat, terrified of the consequences of the decision we made, the reality turned out to be much more pleasant and manageable. Kids really enjoy seeing grandparents on a weekly basis. A grandma stopping by for lunch (and bringing delicious food with her!), grandpa coming to babysit anytime we need to go out, grandma playing the tooth fairy, another grandpa on call with any Tanakh questions. While our kids' social life here are still fragile, the friendship and care of the family pad them with enough self-confidence to be very happy.


There are of course challenges. During the holidays we are laughed at when we are trying to explain that seeing the family day after day is too much for everyone. I go berserk observing the typical Middle Eastern table chauvinism with women cooking, serving men and cleaning the dishes off the table and trying my best to make sure our kids do not absorb it.  My Sephardic mother-in-law is reprimanding me for not folding my husband's clothes in his closet, while my Ashkenazi mother is openly showing her surprise that my husband's academic position does not come with car benefits like management positions in the industry. Taking this all with a sense of humor and some understanding helps us stay calm.


To our surprise, we are enjoying time with the family much more than we anticipated.  While we have been concentrating on the benefits it can bring our kids, we completely forgot how much calm, happiness and sense of purpose it can bring to us and our relatives. 


Binding all the family gatherings is of course food. Large potluck meals with 2-3-4 tables assembled in a row. When our 16 piece Crate&Barrel plate set is not enough.  When everyone brings large bags with homemade bread, salads, quiches, chicken, meat, fish, hummus or desserts and everyone takes someone else's dishes left-overs for the day after.  These are meals that tell family stories. Here are some dishes from our Sukkot gathering:


Moroccan soup (Chrira - Silk) from my sister-in-law


1 kg beef meat 
3-4 bones
1 cup brown peas
1 cup hummus beans from the can (or dried hummus that have been put in water overnight)
2 cups of fresh tomatoes crashed in blender
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup lemon juice
4 liter water
1 cup noodles
1 head celery
1 bunch of parsley
1 bunch cilantro
3 onions, diced and fried
1.5 teaspoons black pepper
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
salt


Dry and clean canned hummus beans from any transparent shell.
Add meat, bones, peas and water and boil for 2 hours on a medium fire.
Meanwhile dice and fry onions.
After 2 hours add onions, celery, cilantro and the rest of ingredients into the soup and boil for additional 30 mins
5 min before the soup is done, add noodles and flour mixed with 1/2 cup of water.


Delicious eggs stuffed with mushrooms from my mom's collection (Russians love mushrooms and know how to pick them and cook them)


10-12 eggs. To my surprise eggs are sold in dozens in Israel despite the use of the metric system.
400 gram of any mushrooms,
2 large onions
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons sugar


boil hard eggs and remove the shell
cut each egg in two halves, removing egg yolk into a large salad bowl
mush all the egg yolks in the bowl
dice and fry onions and add to the yolks
cut mushrooms into small pieces and fry, adding soy sauce and sugar when they start to brown
add mushrooms to the yolks
mix all the ingredients in the bowl, adding mayo
place all the egg white halves on the flat plate
make little balls from the mix in the bowl and fill the yolk holes in the whites
refrigerate, take out of the fridge an hour before serving




Colorful salad from my dear Bostonian friend Julia (kids friendly - they are always happy to help make it and gladly eat it)


use equal volume of hard  boiled eggs, radishes and cucumbers
cut them all in equal size small pieces
add salt and mayo
serve in a transparent bowl to enjoy the purple-green-white-and yellow mix


Chicken in Cola sauce from our Israeli friend in Boston - Amit Milshtein

Fry onions (cut to rings) in a little vegetable oil.(2-3 onions)

Add soy sauce to the browning onions (half a cup)

Add thinly sliced garlic cloves (the more the better)

Throw in some boneless skinless chicken thighs 

Add coke (half to full cup).

Add some chili powder and black pepper.

Close the pot and let cook for 30 minutes.

You could also add some dry plums with the chicken, if you like it.

This can also be cooked in the oven, if you just throw all the above ingredients in a bowl, mix and let them marinate for an ghour in the refrigerator, then throw them all in a baking pan, cover with aluminum foil and cook for one hour. At the end remove the alum foil and let it get a little crispy on top.

Salmon with Maple Glaze (a Gourmet recipe. Remember there used to be such an amazing food magazine...)


Need: 1 large salmon

glaze:
1/2 cup maple syrop
1 tablespoon ginger
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1.2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon minced garlic

scallions or parceley for decoration

In a small heavy saucepan simmer all the glaze ingredients for about 20 mins and let cool.

Clean salmon, cut into slices, salt, and put in a lightly-oiled shallow pan for broiling. Broil in the stove or grill without the sauce till salmon looks ready and no longer rare in the middle. Put a teasppon of sauce on top of each salmon piece and decorate with scallions when serving. Serve the remainder of the sauce aside so people can pour more on the plate.