Broken Dreams

I used to think this would be the best year of my life. I was tired of the individualism of American living and the isolation of suburbs. I'd heard I was coming to a place of community and I looked so forward to sharing ups and downs with other Christians here. I anticipated meals together and worship together, praying for each other and many joys.

Instead, I've wept more tears than I can ever remember shedding in a 3-month time span.

This is no community.

This is a place where my heart gets broken on a regular basis; where my baby does not get held; where my family gets ignored at every single meal while others eat together, even Christmas dinner; where others worship or do fun outings together and leave us out. This is a place where no one visited me in the hospital, even though I was completely alone and surrounded by non-English speakers. This is a place where I can cry and no one cares; where I can call out for help and the only one who answers is an ocean away; where the only people who pray with or for me are tourists I meet in passing.

This is one of the loneliest places on the planet.

When I'm Gone...

How can I have birthed five such amazing children? I look at each of you and am filled with wonder. You are beautiful people, inside and out. And I also look at you and weep for how much I've hurt you and been a poor example for you. So when I'm gone please know that...

I loved you so much it hurts;

I'm sorry I struggled to find joy;

I wish I'd given you more opportunities;

Everyday I questioned myself, as a mom and as a person. I hope it's different for you;

Doubt is hard;

I'm sorry I couldn't seem to model good relationships for you. I sucked at marriage and wasn't much better at friendship;

I wish my ears hadn't been so sensitive. Sorry I complained so much about noise, and couldn't often have music going;

I didn't encourage you nearly enough. I'll forever regret that I didn't affirm you more;

As much as I struggled with life and joy, I was ever so grateful to be your mom. You are treasures beyond measure.

The Pros and Cons of a Newborn: a Guest Post by Naomi

We love Selah -- we really do! But it's true: having a newborn is not "easy" at all. There are plenty of challenges that come with caring for a helpless little life, and I've experienced many mixed feelings on the subject. I'd like to share some of them with you here.

Cons:

1. Newborns require time. I used to have hours of my evening to read, journal, and write on my blog. Now I mostly spend them rocking Selah to sleep for Mom.
2. Newborns require effort. To keep her happy, I usually have to do some vigorous dancing before she calms down enough for me to sway.
3. Newborns bring a change in dynamics. Mom suddenly becomes busier, the two-year-old wonders why she can't be held, and the teenagers want school help from Mom but she's in the middle of a nap.

Pros:

1. Newborns are cuddly and warm. As the winter months draw closer, I know that I will be grateful for the natural 'hot water bottle' that Mom delivered ;-)
2. Newborns provide hours of entertainment with the faces they make. Who needs TV when they can be watching a cute baby?!
3. Newborns make you practice selflessness and tenderheartedness. You can't function without these qualities when you have a baby who completely depends on you. I'm convinced that's why newborns are so cute!
4. Newborns grow up to be people you couldn't imagine life without. I've already tried to think back to life without Miriam -- and failed.

So there you go: my pros and cons of newborn-hood. I'm sure there are more that I've missed, and perhaps my viewpoint will change over time. But for now those are my opinions on this fleeting time in Selah's life.

My last words are enjoy the newborn stage while you can. It doesn't last as long as you think it does, and while the cons may seem to outweigh the pros, they don't in the long run.

Going to Church

Going to church means leaving Tantur's buildings between 8 and 8:15, and heading down the long hill, past olive trees, towards the front gate.

Once outside the gate, we walk 5 minutes, cross a major road, and wait at a bus stop for either one of two Palestinian buses. It's cute to see Miriam copy what her big sibs do.

The 6 of us ride a bus to Jaffa Gate. This bus is the type that's like a tour bus. Our umbrella stroller goes in a compartment below the bus.

We walk from the bus stop towards Jaffa Gate in the Old City.

Once inside Jaffa Gate, we head toward the narrow alley-like rows of shops ahead. The roads are cobblestone, so Josiah pushes the stroller on a narrow path of smoother border stones.

It's amazing how narrow the 'roads' are in this section of the Old City, how diverse the wares are, and how many people crowd through later in the morning.

I love the bougainvillea trees all through Jerusalem.

A few minutes after 9, we arrive at Church of the Redeemer, a Lutheran church built in the late 19th C. The smaller chapel is where the English-speaking congregation meets.

We discover that quite a few tourist groups are visiting, making the small chapel overflow with people. Instead of squeezing inside the hot room, we choose to sit on stools in the breezeway outside the chapel's windows. It's harder to hear this way, but we still sing and pray, and do our best to follow the sermon. 

We'd discovered a bag of snacks (pita bread and halva) left behind by someone on the bus, and sitting outside for church meant that Miriam could eat and move as much as she needed. We could also walk and dance Selah around when she fussed.

After the service, we enjoy drinking Arabic coffee, listening to church bells, and receiving congratulations from people on Selah's birth. The garden courtyard you can see through this opening is actually a story below us. 

I love these kids! And I love the beautiful architecture and the coolness of this breezeway where we worshiped.

The other side of the courtyard from where we are, and the part of the church where the German-, Danish-, and Arabic-speaking congregations worship.

Selah Marie is 10 days old on her first day at church.

Heading back home, we retrace our steps through the narrow paths of the Old City. This is a shop that sells fresh fruit juice.

It's busier now that it's a couple hours later!

From the Old City, we walk downhill a bit to get to our bus stop.

From our bus stop, we see this park down in a valley below us so we decide to explore a little. (This is looking back up the hill, with the city walls at the top.)

  

There's a 'creek' running through the center of the park -- a delight for children and adults alike! 

Our Palestinian bus home is what you'd imagine a city bus to be like.

We have to specify that we're getting off at Tantur because this bus will take people all the way through the checkpoint but it costs more. We pay our 4.70 NIS each to get off at the last stop before Bethlehem.

The hardest part of going anywhere off-campus is the hill we have to walk back UP to get home once we're inside Tantur's gate. At this point Miriam wants to be carried so Naomi takes Selah and I carry the toddler. It's still easier than walking pregnant!

Once we walk through the impressive entryway, we just cross a garden, enter Tantur's main building, head down a level and then to our own apartment. It's only a few minutes from this spot. I'm so thankful for the chance to go to church!

To My Daughter, on Turning One Week

Dear Selah,

One week ago tonight, I was gazing in wonder on your beautiful wrinkled newborn face. It had been only hours since you'd entered the world-outside-the-womb, and I was completely in awe and in love. Today, I still caress your sweet new skin and nuzzle you lovingly, amazed that I've been gifted with you as my daughter. But I also weep because I realize I do not know how to raise a daughter. Technically I've been parenting your oldest sister for 16 years, but the reality is: I don't know what the heck I'm doing. 

I look at who I am as a woman, as a person, and feel so incredibly small and worthless. I'm surrounded by intelligent, frequently very well-educated people and next to them, I feel like nothing. When people talk to me, they don't ask about what I'm thinking or studying. They don't have any idea if I have an area of expertise. Instead I get asked about my kids. About my pregnancy, or my delivery. And then conversation shuts down. In fact, people don't even want to sit with me in the communal dining room here. I am such a nothing. Your dad also doesn't talk to me like he talks to others. He gets very animated when discussing Islam, history or theology with folks here at Tantur. But with me, the extent of inquiry is, "How was school today?" 

And frankly it's true. I am pretty much just a Mom these days. I sat in an armchair this morning with you nursing and Miriam trying to claim the other half of my person. I had the 11-year-old and the 16-year-old simultaneously asking me for help with their school work, and Josiah also sat nearby in the room working. And I thought, "Here I am -- surrounded with my FIVE children. And I can't handle it!" I felt physically swamped. So if I'm not taking the time to learn new things or think world-changing thoughts, why should it bother me that I'm labeled thus: MOM. 

It's partly because I want more for YOU. You're my last daughter. I don't want you and your sisters to have the same feelings that I do. I want you to be fulfilled and content. I want you to know joy and peace, in whatever path you choose (or chooses you) in life. It's not that I think mothering isn't worthwhile or worthy of respect. It's not that I actually regret my path, or wish I'd pursued a rigorous career instead of what I'm doing. I just wish that the people around me saw me for all that I am, and not just the role they've assigned to me. And I wish that for you as well, sweet little girl.

I'm not worthy to parent you three daughters. I truly have no idea what I'm doing. And unfortunately, you'll be watching me struggle through my own issues as you grow up. I just hope that you come out better in the end, and that you find better role models than what you have in me. Love, Mama

"It All Started When..." Guest Post from Naomi, on Selah's birth

The full story of Selah's birth is long, and I apologize in advance for the length of this blog post. But I thought I'd still share it, for those of you who are interested in the "long story." This is the story of my youngest sibling's birth -- the last one I would witness until my own children's.

It all started when Mom and I went in on Wednesday afternoon for a checkup. It was October 17th, Selah's due date, and Mom had felt absolutely nothing concerning contractions. Still we made the trip to Saint Joseph, knowing they'd want to see her.

The appointment basically never ended. The doctors had the baby's heart rate monitored for over an hour, never satisfied with the acrobatics Selah was performing inside Mom's womb and the high rate they caused. The minutes ticked by ... would we ever leave? I wanted to get home in time for dinner. That never happened. No, instead what I least wanted happened: they kept Mom in the hospital, insisting that she stay. For good. Until the birth.

At 4:30 Mom and I went on a walk around the neighborhood, in the hopes that the baby would calm down and attain a slower heartbeat. It was a lovely time of day, and the sun was low in the sky, giving a golden hue to everything it touched. I enjoyed the chance to talk one-on-one with Mom, even if we didn't say much. I had missed that mother-daughter time since moving to Tantur. Here everything is done as a group, and when it's not, it's usually as a family. Plus I knew that once the baby came, I'd get even less time alone with Mom. So I savored those last few hours.

We found a small shop, the front gate being literally a hole-in-the-wall and overshadowed with ivy growth, and the two of us crept inside, curious to see what it sold. "Sunbula: House of Palestinian Crafts" it said in bold letters. At the doorway, our breaths were stolen at the sight of a pile of kittens, huddled on the worn out mat. There were three of them dozing there, and we were unsure whether or not we should disturb them. But then a lady called out in a friendly manner from inside to "Come on in!" and we tentatively stepped over the mass of fur and paws. Inside we found two tiny rooms: the first held the shopkeeper and a single computer (probably used for checkouts), and the second contained the handmade goods. Oh glory be: what a collection of beauty was hidden away in there! Everything from ornaments to purses to little-girl dresses, each one bearing its individual cross-stitched designs. It was stunning to walk in there, really, and we didn't want to leave! But the best part? Purchasing products from this place would be promoting the Palestinians. And that's exactly what we wished to do. Money-less, we promised the lady at the front desk that we would be back.

After our little outing, we returned to the hospital where they hooked Mom up again ... and then moved her to a delivery room. At that point I knew we weren't going back home any time soon. Still Mom wasn't in labor. To get things started, the doctors did what's called "sweeping the membranes." I won't go into details over what it is or how it's done, but I will say labor can start within hours of it being done. But it can also take days -- or even a week -- depending on how effective it is. There is quite a range for reaction time, truthfully. For her, though, sweeping the membranes wasn't working as quickly as they were hoping.

Around 10 PM, Dad arrived with the boys, after being driven by Allison Wattenbarger (thank you, Allison!) They rushed in, all set and ready for this birth ... only to discover that not much was happening, and the contractions Mom was having were few and far between. The boys got bored pretty quickly, and were grateful for the deck of cards they'd brought.

We were still up at 1 AM -- the membrane sweepings were happening every few hours or so, and Mom enjoyed the company. By 1:30 AM I was seriously tired, and gratefully accepted the sleeping mat one of the midwives offered me. The ground was hard, but thankfully not cold, thanks to the thin pad I was on. The delivery room had a single chair along with the birthing bed, so despite the fact that the room was quite large and roomy, we couldn't all find a place to lie down or even sit. The ground would have to do.

It was around 5:00 AM that they broke Mom's water. I barely awoke for that. And the next thing I remembered was Mom calling me out of my sleep in a whisper, "Naomi. It's happening soon." I was up in a flash. No one else was awake, and it felt like it was the middle of the night. When I looked down at my watch, however, I was startled to find it was already 7:15 in the morning. A lack of windows will do that to you: make it feel like eternal night. I woke up Dad, repeating to him what Mom had told me. And then began hard labor.

It progressed so quickly, I hardly had time to react: Mom was in labor! This baby would be born soon! It wasn't as easy as Miriam's birth. No, it took a lot out of me just to watch my poor mama moan and groan and cry out in sheer pain as she bent over the bed. I can never hope to imagine how hard it must have been for her (well, maybe when I give birth -- but that won't be for a while!) Labor lasted at most an hour, though, and at 8:30 AM little Selah appeared. I saw her head come out first, and at that instant my tears of sorrow for my mom changed to tears of joy -- she was here! Mom had done it again.

There was still more work to do, effort to be exerted. Mom still had to deliver the placenta, and then writhe in pain as the midwife stitched up some tears. But from what I could see, the placenta's delivery wasn't nearly as painful or long as the baby's was. Plus she could do so with a sweet little nugget in her arms as encouragement! Same goes with the stitches.

Selah received her name immediately. Our parents had picked out the names months ago, for a boy and girl. And once they'd given us the small hint of the first and middle initials, I guessed the girl was Selah. We'd discovered the name as a family back in June, and immediately fallen in love with it (or at least I had!). So when the midwife announced after checking that "It's a girl!" we knew it was Selah, our youngest baby daughter. Selah Marie Gertz! She was perfect.

At 9 lbs 11 oz, Selah was a chunky little baby, full of health and sweetness. With a head of dark, curly hair, she mimicked my own birth, sixteen years ago. The oldest and youngest daughters both came out with a lot of hair! I clicked with her upon sight -- I would love this little girl just as I had loved Miriam. We would be a trio now, my sisters and I! And I would be the leader 😊 What the years will hold for us remains uncertain, though, as I'm quite a bit older than they are. Whether or not I will get to spend much time with them is fuzzy, but I hope to God they end up living close to me once I'm gone, in college or in my own house! I want to remain close to my sisters, despite the age gap.

Thank you, little Selah Marie, for blessing me with your birth. I can't wait to get to know you these next couple years. Will you be active? Have a sense of humor? Appreciate music? I don't know -- it all remains a mystery currently. All I know is that I love you, from your little toes to that soft mop of dark curls on your head. You're here and I'm glad.

Welcoming Selah Marie (in Pics)

On Wednesday October 17, Naomi and I took 2 Palestinian buses to get from home to Saint Joseph Hospital for my 40-week check-up. I knew the doctors had already been concerned about the baby's potentially large weight, so in my backpack, I carried a change of clothes, toothbrush, book, snack and water bottle.  

We arrived around 3:15 on October 17, but after 45 minutes of having the baby's heart rate monitored, I was told to go for a walk. Naomi and I walked for an hour, both exploring around the block, and visiting a Palestinian fair trade craft shop. This is heading back into the hospital around 5:30.

When the baby's heart rate stayed high for a long time, the doctor wanted to admit me and try to get labor going. We started with a procedure called "sweeping the membranes" around 6:30. Steve and the boys came to join us in the labor/delivery room around 10:30 PM. There was only one actual guest chair, so we had to get creative with seating (including using the birthing ball and the shower chair). 

Steve read "A Country Between" aloud and we finished it by 1 AM. The later it got, the more inadequate the room felt for 5 tired people!!

The guys headed to the waiting room and a midwife brought Naomi a pad for the floor. Having my membranes swept twice had begun contractions, but they didn't last too long or progress. I was getting frustrated and really just wanted to go home!

Eventually more pads were found and the guys tried to sleep in the labor/delivery room too. We decided to rupture the amniotic sac around 5 AM on October 18. I was told to stay sitting on my bed for the next 90 minutes and could breathe through all the contractions, resting in between.

Once I started walking around, contractions really got strong and frequent. I woke up Steve and Naomi around 7:15 to let them know things were getting painful and the birth would be happening soon. Before long, I was in excruciating pain and begging for any help the midwives could give me. Samar told me some positions to use, and also got me a gas mask so I could breathe in some pain-relieving gas during the worst of the pain.  

I'm not sure exactly when I got out of bed to start pushing, but I do know it felt like the hardest thing I'd ever done and I wanted to die! Two midwives and Naomi encouraged and helped, and at 8:30 AM, I got to first hold my new baby!

We hadn't known the gender ahead of time, so it was a joy to discover she was a girl, and we named her Selah Marie. I kept her with me, skin-to-skin for a very long time, not even having her weighed or cleaned. (After at least an hour, she was weighed and found to be 4390 g, or about 9 lbs 11 oz.) 

After delivering the placenta and getting stitched up for 2nd degree tears, I called for the boys to come back in and they got to meet their new sister. Selah nursed right away and we all treasured the beautiful moments of seeing such a fresh new person, especially one with so much hair and such roly poly cheeks, arms and legs.

"Selah" is a term used many times in the book of Psalms, and is a transliteration of a Hebrew letter. No one is quite sure exactly what it means, though it is thought to either be a musical instruction (meaning perhaps "interlude") or something along the lines of "pause and reflect." We're pronouncing it SAY-luh.

Selah Marie was very content to lie on my tummy for as long as I'd let her. It was such a privilege to welcome another precious person into this world! She made all the months of waiting and the hours of labor very worthwhile!

Miriam had spent the night with friends, so didn't get to meet her new sister until later that day (Oct. 18). Our sweet neighbor, who has a car, drove Naomi and Miriam to the hospital to visit Selah and me in the late afternoon, and Miriam was thrilled!

To keep costs down, I'd chosen to have a shared recovery room instead of a private one. And because Saint Joseph Hospital is in East Jerusalem and primarily serves an Arab Palestinian population, Steve was not allowed to stay with me. Due to the combination of limited visiting hours and the difficulty in the family getting to the hospital (mostly because Steve's back is so bad right now that it's hard for him to walk and take buses), I hardly got to see Steve or the kids during the 2 days of recovery. Thus this 45 minute time with Miriam and Naomi was precious. They were my only visitors that day (Thursday). 

This is Samar, the midwife who most helped during labor and delivery. Despite the fact that I'd been quite loud and discouraged during all the pain, she insisted I'd done a great job and that it had been a joy to 'deliver me.' 

By Friday October 19 (my 2nd full day of recovery), I had no phone minutes, no internet and was feeling very lonely. Not only was I out of touch with everyone I knew, but I was surrounded by Arabic-speakers (who had very large visiting parties!) and thus felt quite isolated. Steve surprised me by visiting that evening and seeing him was such an encouragement!

The morning of October 20, Tantur's rector Father Russ drove Steve to the hospital to help bring Selah and me home. Saint Joseph had pampered me that morning with a manicure and hairdo, and also sent us home with gifts for the baby. Despite how nice the hospital had been, I was overjoyed to come home! By that point, I was quite tired of people telling me what I could and couldn't do with my baby, tired of medical tests/checks being done all day, tired of not understanding Arabic, and tired of being on a bed in a tiny half-a-room.

Our big kids and the neighbors joyfully welcomed Selah home! Here's our friend and neighbor Allyson, and her 3-month-old daughter. Allyson is the friend who'd kept Miriam overnight during the birth. Emory and Selah are the 2 youngest residents of Tantur.

One of the best things about bringing Selah back to Tantur has been seeing so many varied people enjoying her. Father Russ has been the one to cuddle her the most, and it's a true joy to share the wonder of a newborn with others!