Motherhood in times of war

“I was almost 19 when I arrived in Israel. It was my first time traveling alone and my parents only gave me permission with the commitment that once the 6 months of dance studies were completed, I would return to Chile and take up a university degree. Almost 10 years have passed since then and, although I returned to Chile seasonally, today I live in Tel Aviv with my partner, our dog Diego and the newest member of the family: Lua.

I found out I was expecting Lua while on vacation in Chile. It was very intense because I was without Omer, my partner. He was planning to travel in a few weeks because it was his first time meeting my family in person. It’s already a stressful situation for everyone, but what I was desperate for was finding a time of day when Omer and I could talk calmly to tell him the news. Although Lua wasn’t a planned pregnancy, and that came as a complete surprise to us — I had undergone surgery for endometriosis a few months ago and it was explained to me that having a baby wouldn’t be that simple —, from the first moment we received the news. it was an immense joy for everyone.

We talk a lot about pregnancy as a magical stage. And it’s. You are creating a new life. But I think we need to show even more clearly how difficult, intense and exhausting this waiting can be. I, as a dancer and Pilates teacher, was in good physical condition and felt that I knew my body, but I never imagined the impact that the physical changes inherent in motherhood would have on me, as well. as the apprehensions inherent to the process. Although pregnancy is beautiful in those moments when you connect with your baby, I think we talk very little about the physical and emotional trauma the process can be for a woman.

Despite the difficulties, I remained active until the last moment and gave my last face-to-face class, here in a studio in Tel Aviv, in my 38th or 39th week. At that time, my mother had already arrived from Chile to stay with us and share Lua’s long-awaited arrival into the world. At first, she became worried when she heard sirens going off loudly throughout the city at different times. Those of us who have been here longer know that they serve as a warning to take refuge in the safe spaces of the city or at home, because there is a risk of a bomb attack. Having lived in Israel for almost a decade, I have gotten used to hearing them and they don’t excite me or scare me as much as she does.

This is how, amidst mermaids and autumn in Tel Aviv, Lua was born. It was a natural birth, in water, as we had planned with my doula who, although Israeli, is also very Latin because she lived for many years in Panama. Here, health is public and several hospitals and clinics have the necessary equipment for water births. The catch is that they are available on a first-come, first-served basis. Luckily, my Lua arrived on September 14th when all three of us – my partner, my doula and I – were able to be in the birthing pool. And although the pregnancy was a little difficult for me, giving birth was an absolutely extraordinary experience. It was like going up to heaven and coming down to earth but with my baby in my arms. Lua was born a little later than expected and, despite having a natural birth, it took me almost three weeks to be able to walk again without feeling pain.

I remember at that time I was very excited to show Lua and my mother all my favorite places in Tel Aviv. In the neighborhood where we live there are many green spaces, cafes and terraces. It was an ideal environment for this transition process that is postpartum, in which your life as a woman and mother changes completely. Although in my case there have also been enormous changes since the arrival of my daughter, many have happened abruptly and for reasons I never imagined. The same day we planned to go out for the first time with our baby (who is now 10 weeks old) was the day the world changed for us.

I remember it was around 5:00 a.m. and Lua was taking her last milk before putting her in our bed, in the middle, so we could cuddle her for a while before getting up. At that moment, a bomb warning siren sounded, warning us that, due to our situation, we had almost a minute and a half to take refuge in the nearest bunker. I wasn’t too worried because many times these are just warnings, they don’t constitute an explosion. However, Omer woke up to check if there was any important information on the Internet. On his phone, he saw message notifications from friends and colleagues who had gone to the Nova electronic music festival south of Tel Aviv, in an open area of ​​the desert near the Gaza Strip. It was thanks to these first messages, in the middle of the night, that we learned that the festival-goers had been attacked and that, although some of our friends said they were fine, we had no news from the others . This massive event celebrates peace and unity but now we only knew that everything had ended abruptly between bombings and ground attacks.

From that minute until today – more or less two weeks since the attack – the television in the house has not been turned off. I can’t help but think that, if it wasn’t for my pregnancy and Lua’s arrival, we probably would have been to this festival too. where there were more than 250 deaths and, in addition, many kidnapped. Not to mention other small communities in the area which were attacked indiscriminately. Men, women, children and even babies, like mine, died.

Of course, that day, my plans to take Lua’s first walk around the city were frozen until today. My mother was unable to return to Chile because her flight was canceled, like many other commercial flights. And although there were planes that, for humanitarian reasons, brought Chileans back to the country, my mother works remotely and preferred to stay and accompany us during this confinement.

Tel Aviv is now a ghost town: almost everything is closed and there is hardly anyone on the streets. And the hardest part of all is the feeling behind this situation. A few years ago, the coronavirus pandemic had already made us experience confinement and uncertainty, but today, when we go out into the street or meet someone in the supermarket, it is almost It’s difficult to say hello as we commonly do and ask someone how they are. . Because it is very likely that this person is familiar or close to one of the victims. Or even have one of their loved ones kidnapped. You feel a huge weight.

Even though the call is to stay safe and I never leave the house alone, Lua and I have attended all her medical visits and, a few days ago, I went to the beach, five minutes from the city. Putting my feet in the water and having this moment for myself helped me realize how lucky I am, because today my daughter is in good health and because I also have the support of my mother and my partner to go through this process of first motherhood which, in itself, is already complicated and demanding, much more difficult in a war context.

Fortunately the Lua has gotten used to the sirens and sleeps despite the noise. The one who still suffers from it is our dog Diego, who gets very nervous every time he hears one. So far, my idea of ​​motherhood hasn’t been what I thought it would be, not at all. I had planned to return to Pilates and barre (the specific discipline that I practice and teach) as soon as possible, with my baby to share with other mothers the adaptations we can make to integrate exercise into the routine. postpartum period. But none of this came to fruition due to the uncertainty and constant feeling that something could happen.

The only one who goes out every day to work for a few hours is Omer and we try to stay positive and in good spirits at home because I don’t know how being in the middle of this tragic experience will affect my baby in the future. We also discussed the possibility of leaving and staying with friends in Crete, located almost 40 minutes away, if the situation worsens. But, until today, we have not been able to agree on what would be that step or that straw that would break the camel’s back for us and would make us leave the country to protect security. from Lua.

I’ve been doing some research on how to deal with Lua’s potential departure from the country because he doesn’t have a passport, but so far it’s just a last resort alternative that we hope will never come to fruition.”