It’s a Boy! (Obviously)

So after our lovely night out with friends I felt confident that they would be able to look after Jojo when I went into labour, so the following morning [friday] thats just what I did.

Woke up just before 7, got everything ready, awakened Sleeping Beauty [Husband] and called a cab.  We got to Ziv hospital at around 8:30 and by about 9am I was holding my beautiful teeny baby son.  Clearly the Lord thought what with our rather stressful aliyah, it was the least He could do.  Thanks for that 🙂

All was fine, although I would NOT recommend going through transition in the back of a taxi going up the bumpy windy road to Tzfat hospital.  For anyone who doesn’t know, “transition” is that dreadful part of a labour when the woman suffers the most, in other words, the bit where she starts shaking and yelling obscenities at anyone unfortuante enough to be around her,  (in the movies, it’s usually the opportunity for the funniest line).  I thought I was rather calm actually, I only asked the driver about 15 times how long til we got there, and I only asked him to overtake twice.  (bit of a problem as I dont know the hebrew word for overtake).  Of course my luck, we were stuck behind the only slow driver in Israel on a one lane road…

It was a beautiful view though, which was very calming.  Only it was a bit difficult to stay calm as when I arrived the doctors/nurses/midwives/bloke on security (not really sure who was there as not really paying attention) were running around like headless chickens.  I don’t think they had ever seen a woman in the final throws of labour before.  Which is a bit surprising.  At one point I even heard some bloke saying “Mah Karah?” in a sort of “Now what seems to be the problem” type manner.  Erm, let me think.  Woman with large belly leaning against reception groaning.  Let’s have a think….

Anyway, they were all yelling at each other wondering what to do with me.  The chap at the front had attempted to wheel me in a chair (wasn’t having that – why would anyone imagine that to be comfortable??!) and I ended up walking the corridor until they threw me on a bed and wheeled me up to the maternity unit, yelling at each other loudly in ivrit, and ignoring my requests for my husband.  (He had to sign in.  Even in a crisis point Israel maintains high levels of bearocracy.  Priorities….)  Nobody bothered speaking to me in a calm controlled voice or asking me any questions (at least I don’t remember them doing that).  It seems I had upset their protocol and now they were a little unsure as what to do.  In the end I just let them get on with it.  I discovered long ago that the best way to deal with shouting Israeli people it to just ignore them.

The midwives were ok, barely had time to examine me between contractions as I was basically ready to go, and my doula didn’t make it til after the birth (when I first called her at 7:30am I told her not to come yet as it didn’t seem so bad).  Not one of them spoke a word of english but in some ways that made it easier to focus, and I could do exactly what I wanted.  I would recommend that to anyone with a baby on the way, birth seems to go a lot smoother when you are allowed to listen to your body.

Anyhow, sprog 2 is small, weighing 5 lb 11 at birth, but healthy and very sweet.  Looks just like the first one did so I keep calling him Jojo.  He is a very considerate baby, allowing everyone a good night sleep before his arrival and causing no trouble at all.  Eats when he is supposed to, burps when he is supposed to, very contented.  We knew it was a boy all along, despite never finding out.    I have always had this feeling we will be one of those noisy all-boy families that nobody wants to come and visit because the house smells of feet.