Babies

It’s a crunchy night at 23 degrees heading down towards the teens.  We don’t expect to see the upside of freezing this week.  We had about six inches of snow on Thanksgiving Day.  It’s compacted down and the boot prints are frozen.  The world is slippery, and it’s time to be careful on foot and driving.  At dawn and sunset the pink and orange light on the black and white world is stunning.

My daughter Liz, her husband, two boys, and the new puppy are safely back in Pittsburgh. They rented a house near us in Fly Creek for the weekend and it was a treat to have them close, a treat to cook with Liz (really, to watch her cook) and a treat to share the holiday meal and lose to her at scrabble.  They all seem to be thriving.  Asher, at 13, is 5’9”.  Rowan at 10 is not a little boy anymore.  I’m glad we have a great granddaughter to keep us mindful of what the start of life looks like. 

And we have baby Zev too, my sister Tamar’s first grandchild, the son of her son Maayan and his wife Sabina.  Zev was born on July 14th, about two months before he was due.  He’s still in the NICU, but hopeful at 12.5 pounds and with a totally endearing smile.  He’s had two surgeries and is due for one more this month to cure intestinal blockages.  Maayan sends pictures and videos, so we get glimpses of this little family and hear the loving young parents cooing and talking to the little baby they can’t take home yet.  They are all being tried in a hard school, but the love in their voices seems strong enough to sustain all of them.  I haven’t written about Zev before, holding my breath perhaps, wanting to write about his coming home.

My niece Zahava, Shayne’s second child, was also very premature.  So we know this story can have a very happy ending.  But Zev and his loving parents have been through the wringer these last months.  I was writing to Sabina on her birthday this week and I told her that this challenging start would be just a blip in Zev’s long life.  We all remember that Zavi had a challenging start, but north of forty with her own wonderful son, that start does feel like a blip, part of her story, but not what defines her.  I picture Zev climbing trees, swimming, throwing snowballs. It’s easier for me, with a lot of life to look back on, with a daughter and grandsons, to hold that perspective.  But for Maayan and Sabina and Zev, this is their whole life right now.  So it feels like a bit of a miracle to see them hold their tiny son so gently and to hear their loving, warm voices as they start their long conversation with him.

I know something of the conversation my grandparents had with my mother, and much of the conversation my parents had with me, although not its beginning.  I know the conversation I have with Liz, and a little bit of the conversation she and Sean have with Asher and Rowan.  The heart of all these conversations is love and hope, joy when things are going well, fear and prayer when they are not. We share the words and ideas they conjure, we share the sound of our voices and the emotions in them, we link our conversations to the long chain.  Maayan and Sabina talk to little Zev, they tell him who they see in their arms, they tell him he is loved and cherished and welcome in the world.  Whatever challenges Zev faces right now in his little body, his heart is secure. We are all giving thanks.