It’s 3 weeks til the big move. I am laying in bed with Rafi having pillow talk. And for the first time, he raises his concerns about moving. “When we get to Israel, can I stay home with you for a week before I go to school?” he asks “Not a whole week, but definitely a few days. Why? Are you nervous?” His cute little face nods. I sometimes take a few moments to take in just how young his face is. So often he looks older to me but once in a while I still catch a little bit of a leftover toddler face.  “It makes sense that you’re nervous. What exactly are you nervous about?” He turns to me and just say, “How will they understand me? “When Rafi was born, I had full intention of him being a bilingual kid. I speak English and Hebrew and it has served me well. Way before I planned to make Aliyah, I planned to give Rafi that same gift. But as early as 18 months, the pediatrician was telling me that Rafi was verbally delayed. I wasn’t really concerned at that age and was baffled that she could make that assessment so early. I totally brushed it off. But she was right. He turned 2 and barely had any words. And the couple words he did have were unintelligible to anyone but me. When the situation hadn’t naturally improved by 2 and a half, I put him in speech therapy. At this point, I was speaking both languages to him. My mom was speaking exclusively in Hebrew to him. Even though she is my American parent, my mom loves to remind me that she’s the one who made sure I spoke Hebrew fluently. Ok Ema, credit given.  And credit she deserves. People who make Aliyah get the benefit of a free “Ulpan” which is an intensive Hebrew course. A few weeks after arriving in Israel, I went to the office to take my Hebrew test so they could place me in the appropriate level. “We’re sorry, but we actually don’t have a class for your level. Your Hebrew is too good. Most immigrants speak like you after 20 years. You’ll just have to learn on the street.” I was politely ushered out into the world to figure it out. So, yes, my parents really set me up for success by speaking to me in Hebrew from an early age. And I wanted to give that gift to Rafi too. But After his initial assessment at the age of 2.5, the speech therapist suggested that we need to focus on English in order for him to catch up. No one could understand him and I could see it was affecting his self-esteem, so I dropped the Hebrew. So here I am, 3 years later – having pillow talk with my 5 year old, reminding myself that I did the right thing. Because now he speaks like a goddamn adult and doesn’t shut up. However, he doesn’t speak or understand a lick of Hebrew. “I guess I just won’t talk for a while,” he said. “Oh honey, you can talk. The teachers speak English and they’re going to help you. And you’re going to learn Hebrew so fast. Little kids have special brains that learn languages so much quicker than big kids or adults.” He smiled. He loves when I tell him he possesses some kind of superpower. He turned over and went to sleep. But I, of course, laid there and imagined what it would be like for him to be in a school where he didn’t speak the language. I’ve thought about it many times before, but now that we are weeks away from the move, everything seems so real. What is it about mothers and worrying? I guess we are biologically designed to be obsessed with our kid’s well being. I mean, someone has to look out for these walking accidents. Last year when we visited Israel, I told my brother’s friend about my apprehension sending Rafi to a Hebrew speaking school. He shared with me that he went through what Rafi was about to experience. He only spoke English as a child and was put in a Spanish speaking school. “I’ll tell you that I will never forget those first few months. It was hard. But then one day I just got it…and it didn’t take long. He will be fine.” This and many other stories calm me. Besides, I can’t shelter Rafi from going through hard things. Going through hard things is what makes us strong. I value growth over comfort – I always have. Transferring those values onto my child is important. Difficult but important.  My job is not to shield him from all hard things, but rather to be available and involved as he goes through those hard things. And I have total faith in him. Rafi is resilient, smart, and plugged into life. This is an opportunity for him to trust himself and me. He’s got this. Right? —————– Fast forward to mid-November – we’ve been in Israel for a few days. We slowly start Rafi’s transition into his new school. The school allows for children to go through a four-day transition where the parent gets to join them for a few hours their first day and then less and less time the following days until he comes to school by himself. But even then, he only comes for 2 hours… then 3 hours… then 4 hours… until he’s ready for a full day on his own. This transition process was helpful for us. But on the first day of him going by himself, the goodbye was fucking hard. Not only was it his first time being in that school without me, it was our first time separating AT ALL since moving to Israel. If you’ve read my prior blogs, then you know he didn’t even leave me when I was hospitalized. So this goodbye was brutal for us both.  I knew he was safe, both physically and emotionally with these people. And I knew that eventually we would have to go through this. I knew I was doing the right thing….. But when his lip started quivering and I heard him cry as I left, I got in my car and started sobbing. Most mothers have experienced having to leave their child when their child didn’t want them to leave. But this was on a whole other level. I was leaving him at a school where he didn’t speak the language. I knew it had to be done and I knew he was in good hands – but my heart ached as I drove away still crying. I whispered to myself, “Ok Elana, you knew this would be hard. This is the hard part. This is it.” ——————- In order to give Rafi a better life, I first had to put him through some really hard days. Nothing that’s worth it comes easy. If I want to get in shape, I have to put my body through exercise. If I want to learn a new skill, I have to practice it relentlessly. And if I want to call a different country my home, my son and I both have to have some really hard days. And we did. The next couple of months were tough, I’m not gonna sugar coat it. Rafi went in and out of phases as he adjusted. Some days he was happy but most days he wasn’t. I saw a side of him that I didn’t recognize – angry, confused, scattered. For a period of about a month or so, the pictures from school only showed a sullen, angry child. But I kept one foot in front of the other – giving him what I thought he needed and trying to take care of myself in the process.  I reminded myself that just because it was hard, doesn’t mean something has gone wrong. I reminded myself that OF COURSE he was struggling, everything was new. I reminded myself that this was just a season. That I was willing to have a hard season in order to create the life that I wanted for us. But most of all I reminded myself that for the past two years I have felt completely aligned with this decision and that some hard days were not going to knock me off my square. ———————– Once we moved into our own place, I expected Rafi to feel better – God knows I did. But he only got worse. Having his own space only allowed for his big emotions to feel safe enough to fully emerge. He started tantruming, refusing to go to school, spitting, and being aggressive. It’s hard when your kid is not like-able but you know he has good reason not to be. Some days I handled it well and others I didn’t. I’m human. It was at this point that I decided that this kid needed me to somehow save him. I couldn’t save him from the changes – he would have to experience that. But I could save him from feeing so alone. So I rearranged my work schedule in order to spend more time with him. I significantly cut down his screen time. I hired a parenting coach to help me work through his adversity to going to school. And I implemented new bedtime routines. I put every ounce of energy into him. I engaged with him so consciously and was so present that there was no way he could feel alone. I read the 5 Love Languages for Kids (highly recommend), I scheduled playdates with kids from school, set up our house to feel like a home, enrolled him in soccer, and continued to reach out for help and resources within the community. And it worked.  Slowly, Rafi stopped asking to stay home with me on school days. He started sleeping through the night in his own bed. His aggression faded and he gradually returned to his happy-go-lucky self. We’ve now been in Israel 3 months – which might as well be 5 minutes yet sometimes feels like 5 years. Time is funny like that when you make such big moves. Last week I went to go pick Rafi up from school. I walked in to hear him ask a friend to come play magnatiles with him – IN HEBREW!! I literally gasped! I had never heard him speak Hebrew in a social setting before. The most I had heard was a few words here and there as we practiced at home. A surge of gratitude and relief came over me. This kid was going to be ok. I never questioned whether I made the right decision, nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. But man did I need this.  We are nowhere near out of the woods yet. Rafi still needs me to be sitting in the big chair in his room in order for him to fall asleep at night. He still asks me to pick him up early from school sometimes. He still can’t go sleep at my dads or be away from me for too long. But the last 3 months have taught me not to catastrophize. If I like my reasons for doing something, I have to have my own back and stick with it. I can’t abandon ship as soon as it gets hard. One foot in front of the other. It’s the only way to get where you’re going. |
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Elana's Aliyah Blog 
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