These past few weeks have been really crazy. My husband and I watched more TV this past month than we have in the past 4 years put together (when we each, individually, decided we'd had enough of TV). But with Israel being at war, we felt a need to be more in tune with what's going on than you can be just by clicking 'refresh' on the news sites every 10 minutes (or less).
We didn't take in any refugees from the north. It was beyond what we felt was possible with our house (no extra space) and our colicky daughter, who spent 3 to 4 hours screaming each night, until she finally fell asleep around midnight. (Last week, we finally took her to the doctor, who believes she has reflux and has put her on an antacid that seems to be working.) We did have friends from the north come to visit - they had a baby born just before the war & every time the air raid siren went off, they grabbed her & ran down 3 flights of stairs to the bomb shelter. After days of multiple alerts, the mom decided it was more dangerous for her to be running down the stairs with a baby than to just stay put. Her husband decided it was time to get out of there, so they grabbed the baby's diaper bag, a change of clothes and ran down to the car between sirens.
And then one night, a few days before the cease fire, I thought I heard the doorbell ring. It was about 1:40 a.m. and we'd finally turned off the TV after another episode of "The Inside". It couldn't be any of the kids... I went back to sleep. And then I was sure it was the doorbell. In my pajamas, I went downstairs to ask who it was. "Police." Police? Fortunately I was too tired to have any of those split-second crazy thoughts like the ones I had when my parents left me with my 2 little brothers saying they'd be back soon. I remember wondering, about 8 hours later, how I was going to tell my brothers that our parents were dead. (Of course it turned out that there was just something wrong with the car they'd gone to pick up & since it was in the days before phones were invented (OK, not really, but my parents didn't call) I discovered at the age of 10-1/2 what worrying was all about... anyway, back to the point... my first thought was that they must have the wrong house. "Do you have a daughter Hadas?" Um. Yes... "and do you know where she is?" Yes again. She's upstairs in her bed. She was downstairs on the computer until close to midnight. What happened? I tried to understand. The only thing I could think was that they could arrest her for speeding... that is... speed-reading... she swallows books.
The police told me to wake her up and bring her downstairs. I did. They then told me that someone had called to say that she had called them to say something terrible had happened... and then hung up. They were just about ready to break down our door... It wasn't Hadas who had called and we have no idea why someone would have pretended to be her. The phone records didn't reveal who the caller was, so I guess it will remain a mystery.
The bit of time that I have found, I've spent reading some blogs. Poor Elizabeth has HG, a terrible condition I had never even heard of. While her pregnancy is going well, in a better world, it seems that women who suffered from infertility could at least be exempt from things like that. Electric Lady (who has a unicornate uterus) sounds like she's doing better (spotting is another one of those things infertiles shouldn't have to deal with once they finally conceive). DI-Dad's kids finally met their half-sibling - I can't wait to hear more. It takes a special kind of person to do what Eric's doing! And last, but not least, Nilla's FET results are sounding good :-) Being a mom to FET kids myself, I find hearing successful frozen embryo transfer stories brings me a special smile.
Anyway, this post is about as crazy as these past few weeks have been... I hope things will be back to normal soon.