My eldest grandson, Dvir, was born in the "Schneider" hospital exactly 20 years ago.
It was Thursday before noon. My daughter was urgently sent to the hospital, after the treating doctor diagnosed "preeclampsia". Five minutes after Shabbat ended, my daughter Liat entered the delivery room (week 26!) for fear of damage to the liver. And so we had a premature baby by caesarean section, weighing 769 grams.
Difficult days have passed for the family and especially for the young parents who have their first born son. In the first days they "ran" prematurely. The doctor's answers obviously did not calm the severity of their concern. "As of this moment, he is fine" said the doctor and continued "what will happen in an hour, I cannot say".
Life went on hour by hour and day by day. Each passing day added a few grams to Peg. Each passing week added to the strength of the tiny little body. After 3-4 weeks the tension started to decrease. The visits were shared between the parents, grandparents.
One day I walk in the hallway leading to the maternity ward and see my daughter. "Liat", I asked, "where are you going?" "Feed him", she replies. "Feed him"? I asked myself. I followed her. She put on a robe and went into labor. I can't see clearly what she is doing and what the nurse next to her is doing. She comes out and I ask "how did you feed him"? "Under the guidance of the nurse, I connected one thin tube to another," she says with a slight smile of happiness on her face, "and that's how I fed him."
I was stunned. I could not think of a more plastic description. A mother who barely touches her child. can't hug him Can't breastfeed him. Can't pet him. Full of happiness for a moment of grace that allowed her to be fed through a tiny tube. Such an "unmotherly" description.
The next morning I sat and wrote. I wrote because I felt the need to unload a heavy burden on me. I wrote because I wanted to say words of encouragement and hope to her, because those were really difficult days. I wanted to put a slight smile on her face. The face of a mother worrying about her son's fate. I wrote because I wanted to share with other families that these difficulties and feelings are their lot.
The book is called "Peg's musings". The preemie tells his experiences of being premature, and all from an optimistic point of view and giving good advice to parents. At Dvir's betrothal held a few months after his birth, my daughter Liat asked me to read a few stanzas from the book. The book won him wings among family and friends. I wrote more books for Devir: when he reached the age of one, when he reached the age of three, when he was in kindergarten and when he reached the age of Bar Mitzvah. Today Dvir is 20 years old. It is not discernible that there was an expiration date. He lives in Modi'in. He was an excellent student. likes sports love music Plays the organ and the piano beautifully and is very popular among the members. In short, "How many are your works, O Lord".
The booklet "The Thoughts of a Premature Child" is presented to the parents of premature babies wherever they are and their families.
Those sitting in the waiting room next to the delivery person, filled with tension and hope for good news from the doctor.
In the meantime, you are welcome to read the booklet. If I managed to put even a small smile on your lips
Hope, it's my salary.
- Asher is a commentator