Sunday, October 6, 2013

It's time you know the truth.



Just before Thanksgiving, three years ago, the daughter of friends was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. She needed platelets as part of her treatment. As so many in our community, I dutifully clicked on the link provided by my friend and took out my calendar to schedule my platelet donation. For whatever reason I first checked the FAQ’s to ensure that I was, in fact, eligible to donate platelets.
But I was a nursing mother.

And, therefore, ineligible to give platelets.
I considered encouraging Rami to wean. Because, if you’re doing the math, Rami was about two years old and we had enjoyed nursing for a good amount of time. But the little girl’s mom was an avid nurser, herself, and I knew wouldn’t advocate my weaning my son, even to help her own daughter.
 

Rami weaned on his own soon enough and I set out to donate platelets at the end of the month. A Sunday would be most convenient for me, after all, and the next available Sunday would be in three weeks.

Two weeks went by and I got on the scale. And found I had lost all of my “baby weight.” Enviable, right? You’re jealous, aren’t you? 
But I’m only 5’1” and have a fairly petite frame and having “lost all my baby weight” actually meant I didn’t weigh enough. 
Not enough to give blood to help save the life of a stranger and not enough to donate platelets to help the daughter of a friend.

I was crushed.
I considered trying to put the weight back on.

I continued to struggle with how to help this family and the other two families in our community dealing with cancer diagnoses. I signed up to make meals. “No lasagna,” said one vegetarian family. “No sugar,” requested one carnivorous family. “Organic is preferable,” said the third family. So, I ordered pizza and boiled pasta and all but gave up. I would receive an email request to make a meal for one friend in the morning and close it thinking, “I can’t cook!” Then I’d reopen it in the evening, resigned to making just one meal (How hard could it be?!) only to find that now not a single meal was needed for that month.
I felt helpless.

I prayed. I gave charity.

It just wasn’t enough. Not for me, anyway. I wanted to heal the sick. I wanted to wipe away all the pain their families were experiencing. But I couldn’t.

Then I received an email. It was distributed on a community listserv. There was a need for families to act as interim care providers for newborn babies awaiting adoption. It was short-term. Weeks, usually.
That! THAT I can do. I can’t donate platelets or give blood or even cook. But I can take care of newborns. I can feed them, I can bathe them, I can diaper them, I can hold them.

And I do.

As I type, five-week-old Melody is slowly falling asleep on my lap. She will soon join her family in her new home. 

Two friends have had babies in the past month and I haven’t signed up to make a single meal.
We had take-out for dinner, tomorrow’s lunches haven’t been made, and there are dishes piled high in the sink.
But Gavri changes diapers, Sariti gives bottles, Rami has learned to dry newborns’ tears, and James has perfected his technique of eating his meals with an infant sleeping on his knees.
Over the past two years, we have cared for 12 newborns in our home. And now you know why.
Because, “that! THAT, I can do.”


14 comments:

  1. 12 babies! I lost count a long time ago. I miss seeing those babies. And yes, there is always, always something we can do.

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  2. Yes, thank G-d, no one has to or can do every type of kindness, but when you put us all together as a community, we carry each other through rough times and good times!

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    1. That is exaaactly my feeling. Here's to the good. :)

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  3. What a wonderful thing you do for these families. As an adoptive mother, I can tell you that having your child in a home where they are loved and well cared for gives the new parents a special sense of peace. What you do.... is beautiful.

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    1. Thank you so much...for reading, for commenting, and the much appreciated perspective.

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  4. Amazing. I thank you for all you do on the kids behalf. As an adoptive mom, I appreciate the love he got from his foster family so much.

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    1. I say the same to you as to the above poster. Thank you so much.

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  5. Beautiful story, beautifully written. Thanks for sharing your heart with us.

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    1. Thank you, Caitlin. An honor to be recognized by the likes of you and Nan. :)

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  6. It is wonderful to read how you marshal your own gifts to serve people in need. But I am left with a question: Isn't hesed (the Jewish mandate usually translated as "lovingkindness") or, in less parochial terms, volunteerism, also about challenging ourselves, pushing ourselves beyond our perceived limits? If so, then saying "I am not good at it" is not the best response to a call for help. I distinctly remember people learning how to knit in order to make warm hats for soldiers and the poor. They could have said, "that I can't do," but realized that if they devote some time to learning a skill, there would be that many more hats. Even when faced with physical limitations, there are probably other ways we can help, like enlisting others who don't face these same limitations. Obviously we make choices about how to spend our volunteer time, and our skills ought to be part of the choices. Unlike a job, however, the needs of humanity don't always allow us to say "I am not qualified."

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    1. Hi, Anonymous. Thanks for stopping by. As my DH says, it's an interesting question and we wonder from where you get the idea that hesed is about challenging oneself. I've been pondering that notion all day (as you know, if we are fbf's) and I still can't quite see how it makes any sense, really. Is the woman who has her personal chef cook a meal for the family of a newborn baby NOT doing an act of hesed for that family? Shall I overeat in an attempt to regain weight? Or, perhaps deliver burnt meals to families shuttling a loved one to and from chemotherapy?

      I'm also compelled to ask if you have ever spent any time with newborns. They're lovely. Adorable. Sometimes they smell nice. But other times, they wake frequently and erratically, urinate on your shoes and vomit in your hair. Now, I signed up for that. But I do think I'm allowed to be challenged by it, as well.

      I'm fascinated that you think "hesed" is an important concept to me. It's one of the reasons I think you must either know me or know of me. I suspect you are jealous of me for any number of reasons and that you may have even felt better about yourself after posting this comment. You may have taken "solace" in the pause you gave me today.

      But your post boils down to the following: not only did you elect to not pat me on the back or even ignore this entry. Rather, you chose to publicly question my actions and imply that my perceived contribution to society "is not the best response to a call for help."

      And you did it all hidden behind an "anonymous" veil.

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  7. Aanonymous ... did you even read this post after the first couple of paragraphs? I am in awe of what Ann and her family do, and often find myself asking why I don't do more after seeing their example. Ann and her amazing family are truly a light that shines brightly in this world. The post was not even a cheap-shot, it was a comment that was completely out of context. So, she couldn't cook? Let's see, the equivalent is -- taking care of babies?! She stepped up her game vs. "giving up." Ann is a tzadek and a rockstar. I am in awe.

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    1. Ladies and gentlemen, my knight in shining armor. Thanks, Howie. Now, how many newborn-care skills did I learn from you and Jill?

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