| It was a perfect Saturday Shabbat morning in late February. I sat on the couch lazily sipping coffee with my partner Ido (pronounced Eee-Dough). My 6 year old son (Rafi) and Ido’s 12 year old daughter (Moria) were at the table eating cornflakes and playing Go Fish. “Hey,” I said with a smile. It’s the 28th! “Do you know what that means? We’ve officially been together for 5 months.” We both giggled. If you didn’t know our story, you would have thought it was 5 years. At 5 months, we had already fallen in love and started a life together in our new home. He leaned over and gave me a kiss, “best 5 months ever” he said. We went on sipping our coffee for a few more minutes before I broke the silence again. “Hey did you see the news yesterday? They pulled all non-essential Americans from Israel and took them home to America.” “Oh wow, that’s a big sign.” “Yeah,” I said. “It’s going to happen soon.” And just like clockwork, as if the military heard us speaking, the loudest most jarring sound went off for the first time in 7 months. It was a war siren. “Oh shit, let’s go!” I rushed the kids into the safe room while Ido went to get essentials. You only have 90 seconds to get into the safe room before the missile hits. “Grab my phone!” I yelled. We don’t use our phones on Shabbat. Unless we’re at war. “Grab the kitten!” Rafi yelled. Oh right. We have a kitten now. This all feels so familiar. Yet so foreign. So much has changed in our life since June when we last went through this. We made it into the safe room on time. Ido checked the door and window to make sure they were properly shut. Rafi and Moria climbed up to Rafi’s loft bed and I tossed them the kitten. We turned on our phones and started the run around of figuring out what the hell was going on. We divided and conquered – he checked all the Hebrew news and I checked the English. “Wait, we don’t have to be in here! “ I said as I read furiously. “We’re not being attacked. They are just warning us that we are attacking Iran.” “Well then we have to get ready for when they attack back,” Ido said. I looked up. “Yup. And this time America is attacking with us.” He and I both looked at each other knowing that this might just be the war. With America actively on our side, we might just finally take down the IRGC and change the course of history for Jews and Muslims around the world. “Let’s get the safe room set up. We’re gonna be spending a lot of time in here.” Back in August of 2020, I cleaned my Philadelphia apartment like I had never cleaned it before. COVID was rampant but that had nothing to do with my deep cleaning. This was the first house cleaning after kicking out my husband. He used to chew tobacco and spit into soda cans. Gross. But as I stood in the middle of my sparkling home and looked around, there were no soda cans in sight. There were no clothes on the floor, no remnants of food in the bed, and no drugs in my house. I’m not a neat freak by any definition of the word – I’m actually quite messy. But I’ll never forget that feeling. The feeling of freedom. “Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. “It’s going to stay like this.” Rafi was 15 months old when I became a solo parent. His dad was in active addiction and disappeared from his life in 2020. For the 6 months after he left, I went to bed at 8pm every single night. I was exhausted. I had been in survival mode for years and in acute trauma for the past 8 months as relapse after relapse rocked our home until an affair finally had me pull the trigger and end the marriage. “I will never live with anyone again,” I said out loud, marveling at the clean bathroom. At 18 months, Rafi started reciting the ABC’s. He couldn’t even talk yet but he knew the alphabet. It was around that time that his dad flew out to California for a long-term recovery program. The first time he called me from there, sober, I was so excited to tell him about his son being a genius. “Dude! He knows the ABC’s! At 18 months!” His dad replied by asking, “can you mail me my stimulus check?” I felt a crushing loneliness. He didn’t care about the kid. I was really going to have to do this alone.  I spent the next few years healing and growing. Through AA and Coaching, I became a completely different version of myself. I lost 38lbs, quit my career as a therapist, started my own life coaching business, and decided to move to Israel  And I had zero desire for a partner through any of that. I loved being the only adult in my home. I loved being in control of what food was in my kitchen, the level of cleanliness (mostly cause I’m so messy), and sleeping in a big bed alone. But while in the midst of my preparations to move to Israel, I started feeling that yearning. I knew I wanted to re-marry and have another child. And I knew my future husband was waiting for me in Israel. But the thing about being so complete on your own is that only a partner who is complete on their own would qualify. He would have to add to my peace. Which was a tall order cause I was pretty fucking peaceful. After a toxic relationship, one of the biggest healing points is learning to trust yourself again. I wasn’t even mad about the other women. Or the drugs. I was mad at myself for abandoning my own wellbeing and becoming obsessed with his. I vowed I would never do that again. In April 2024, just 6 months before I made Aliyah, I went out Bachata dancing for the first time. Bachata is a Dominican partner dance. It’s sensual and intuitive. It’s beautiful. My friend Jen had been trying to get me to go for months and I kept making excuses. “It starts at 10?” I would gasp. “That’s insane. I’m a mom!” She would smile, “I know but it’s worth it.” And she was so right. The first time I walked into a Bachata dance social I was hooked within 5 minutes. I was so taken aback by how the women were able to follow the man’s lead intuitively and just trust. Deep down that’s what I wanted. To trust myself and to trust a man. My brain was doing pretty good but Bachata would be the piece to heal my body.  I immediately started taking lessons and went out to socials as often as I could. I struggled to follow the lead. I always wanted to be ready for his next move. I couldn’t relax enough to flow. So psychologically on point. Over time I learned to breathe through dance. I learned to relax my body and trust. I learned to clear my mind. I learned to stay in tune with myself while being in tune with another. I practiced the physiology of being in a trusting, healthy relationship – even if for just one song. You can see my Bachata journey leading up to making Aliyah here. When I arrived in Israel, I had a list of things I needed to do. ✓ Israeli ID ✓ Find an apartment ✓ Buy furniture ✓ Get life together But I knew in the back of my mind that once I was settled, finding Bachata dancing in Israel was going to be a priority. In Tel-Aviv, there is a big dance scene. And 3 times a week, the famous Havana Night club holds Bachata socials. After 3 months of not dancing, I finally went out and reconnected with my body in a way that only Bachata does for me. I found a great babysitter and started dancing weekly. I would often drive home at 2am thinking “I better get this in now cause there’s no way I can keep this hobby and find a good man at the same time.” Man, did I doubt God’s power. In Israel, matchmaking is a real thing so I even made a dating profile and sent it to some matchmakers. I got set up often. I went on dates and met some nice men but nothing stuck.  I would go dancing every Thursday night but didn’t talk to anyone there. I just danced and went home. I wasn’t interested in getting to know the other dancers. Bachata was my release. It was my me-time. In late September 2025, I talked myself into re-downloading a dating app. If you’ve ever used a dating app then I don’t need to tell you how exhausting they are  Mindless meaningless small talk with random dudes who I “matched” with just didn’t align with the kind of connection I was looking for. But screw it. I re-downloaded it after a hiatus and immediately matched with a man. He was pleasant and held my attention long enough to get my number. “What a small world, Elana” he typed to me. I looked at his location and saw he lived in the next town over. “Yup small world” I said politely. The first time we spoke on the phone he asked me, “do you know why I said small world?” I paused. “Because you live 10 minutes from me?” “No. Because we danced together Thursday night.” I almost dropped the phone. “We did???”  “Yes,” he chuckled. “I’m brand new to Bachata, only about 3 weeks in. We danced for about half a song the other night. I led horribly. But I felt an energy from you. It was like electricity. I can’t explain it. When the song ended and you walked away, I knew I had missed an opportunity. I came to look for you later to ask you out but you had disappeared. Then the next morning you popped up on my dating app.” I was speechless. And highly intrigued. “So, can I take you out tonight?” As I walked down the long driveway to the street, where I always had my dates wait for me, I felt particularly good in my short green dress. I work out a lot and eat clean. And there are certain moments where that REALLY pays off. A great date where I feel good in my body is one of those moments. It was dark out but I could see that he had gotten out of his car to wait for me by the passenger door. Nice move. It was one of those magical middle-eastern nights with enough heat to wear a fun dress but enough breeze not to sweat in it. As I got closer I tried desperately to see if I recognized him. I really had no recollection of our dance. But clearly he had remembered it well. I finally reached the car and heard the Bachata music coming out of the stereo. Another good move. I greeted him with a hug and noticed that he was wearing an expensive cologne. Ok dude, so you know how to date. I got in his car and we started chatting. And then it happened. I can’t explain what happened to my body over the next few minutes. His presence and his words put my nervous system to sleep. I didn’t need to be on guard, there was nothing to be protected from. I didn’t need to be masculine and take charge. He was masculine enough to let me exhale. I didn’t need to say all the things I was used to saying on a date to see if he “passed the test.” There was no test. I felt completely safe and calm. Contentment washed over my body and there was nothing I needed to know. I already trusted. The restaurant was 12 minutes away. About halfway there I whispered to myself, “Oh, this is it. This is the last man I’ll go out with.” The body keeps the score. And my body was finally at rest. Ido and I had an amazing first date in Cesarea looking over the Mediterranean sea and eating fresh fish. He was so relaxed. And I was too. We instinctively ate off each other’s plates and talked about God.  After he paid the bill, we went for a walk by the water. I was busy looking out at a nighttime fisherman casting his line when Ido grabbed my face and kissed me. The kiss was good but what sealed the deal was what happened after the kiss. We stood there hugging for about 5 minutes. No exaggeration. Five whole minutes. I felt any residue of self-protection melt away into him. Five years of doing it all myself evaporated into this one hug. The chemistry and the safety was indescribable. It was as if everything I’ve been doing has been just to get here. “Oh shit” I thought as I looked out over his shoulder at the water, “I’m in trouble” A few months before moving to Israel, I was in the bathroom putting on make-up. 5-year old Rafi was sitting on the toilet quizzing me on space facts that I definitely did not know. Every time I got an answer wrong (which was every time) he scoffed at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t know that about comets! Everyone knows that.” I smiled and continued putting on my mascara. Then out of nowhere he said, “I think I’m ready for a step dad.” I put down the mascara. He continued, “maybe you should find me one.” Rafi understands the concept of step-dads because I have had a step-dad since I was 17. Due to his Argentine descent, Rafi calls him Abuelo (grandpa in Spanish) and loves him deeply. He also witnesses the loving relationship that I have with his Abuelo and so he automatically sees a step-dad as a good thing.  God had been laying the foundation since before I even knew I wanted to build the house. Rafi was still talking. “But he has to be nice! And he has to want to do fun things.” Then his face turned serious “but I don’t want a stepmom. I only want one mom.” I smiled warmly at his sweet face, “oh yeah? Well what if you had a stepmom who let you stay up late and have as much ice cream as you want?” He took a minute to think. “Nah, I still just want you. But can you find me a stepdad like that?” Ido and I went on five dates in the first week we knew each other. We went to the beach, ate sushi whenever possible, and Bachata danced regularly. We video chatted in between dates and had long talks before bed. I didn’t sleep with him during this intense time. And he didn’t ask me to.  It was clear to both of us that this was going to get serious very quickly. I knew I had to talk to him about wanting kids. I was clear that I wanted another one. Meanwhile he has two preteen girls and I had no idea where he stood on having more children. I was petrified to bring it up. What if it was a hard no? What would I do? I knew what I would do. I would have to end it. I spent my first marriage abandoning myself and I knew I would never do that again. Even if it meant giving this up. After putting off the conversation for a few dates, he came to my house for the first time. But he didn’t come in. Rafi was asleep. “I don’t want to confuse him in case he wakes up,” Ido said. I smiled, partly because that was so sweet and mature and partly because I wasn’t going to invite him in anyway. We sat out front drinking tea. Cuddling as much as you can on a wooden bench. We naturally started talking about our kids. He gave me some more intimate details about his experience with marriage and children. It wasn’t good. He had been divorced 10 years and had been through a lot as a single dad. I mustered up all my courage. “And how do you feel about having more kids? Is that something you would want?” He looked out at the lemon tree thoughtfully. “I honestly don’t know how to answer that question. I love kids. I love my kids. But it just always felt so hard. I honestly haven’t thought about having more kids.” My stomach dropped. Not having a clear answer and definitely not having the answer that I wanted, I stayed quiet. Part of my self growth journey has been learning when to speak and when not to. This was a moment to digest and consult with women I trusted on what to do next. This was not a moment to push him. A few weeks after Ido and I started dating, he invited Rafi and I over for lunch. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to meet Rafi. But wasn’t I supposed to wait a certain amount of time? Aren’t there rules? I’ve never introduced Rafi to a man before. I consulted with a trusted friend. “There are no rules,” she said. “Only God’s timing.” I decided to follow my body which continued to feel calm and aligned as we drove to Ido’s house for lunch. I told Rafi that we were visiting a new friend of mine. Being 6 years old and having never seen me with a man, he didn’t think otherwise. When we arrived, Rafi walked ahead of me and right into the house. This kid lacks zero confidence. “Well hello!” Ido said to him, cracking up at his sense of security in a place he’d never been.  I hung back and let them feel each other out, praying that Rafi wouldn’t have some kind of tantrum for the next hour. And he didn’t. In fact, after we finished eating, we turned on music and Rafi put on a dance show for us. Ido and I looked at each other, silently connecting and holding back our usual physical affection. On the way home, I asked Rafi “So what did you think of Ido?” “He’s cool. His English sucks though. But he can be my step-dad if you want.” Oh shit, this kid is even smarter than I thought. As we continued dating, I knew I was falling in love with Ido. But it wasn’t like other times I fell in love. Although I was always excited to see him, I didn’t feel the kind of butterflies I felt when I was younger. This was quieter. Calmer. There was a knowing. Of course I would fall in love with him. I started to get anxious. I had to get clear with him that I want another child. I consulted with my friends and with my mom. They all reminded me that I would know the right moment to bring it up. About a week after our initial conversation out on the bench, Ido finally came into my home for the first time. “Wow” he exclaimed, “your apartment has a great vibe!” Being a realtor, Ido is in people’s homes all the time. “Thanks!” I replied nonchalantly, acting as If I didn’t just spend 30 minutes furiously throwing my mess in various closets.  We snuggled on the couch without any pressure to sleep together. I loved that. I knew this was the moment. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.” He immediately sat up a little and made eye contact with me. Goddammit why was he so attentive? I continued, “something I’m very clear on is that I want another child. One more is good enough for me. But it’s non-negotiable. And when I asked you last week whether you want more kids, you were very unsure. I want to respect that but also the way we are moving forward, I need to know where you stand on this. I can’t keep dating you if you don’t want more kids. I’m just setting myself up for heartbreak.” He looked at me and smiled. “I love that you know what you want. And you deserve to get exactly what you want. Let’s talk about it.” Fuck. If I have to give up this kind of communication, I’m going to be devastated. Over the next hour he told me all his fears around having more kids. Most of them had to do with being a single parent. It was as if he only saw having kids through the experience he had with his daughters. He was making the mistake so many of my clients make – dictating their future based on their past. As he told me story after painful story, he continued to stress how hard it was for him to do it alone. I finally interrupted him. “But do you know what’s beautiful? When two people who’ve done it alone decide they want to do it together.” I don’t know where those words came from but apparently they were the right words. His whole body relaxed. He looked at me with a glimmer in his eye. “That sounds amazing,” he said. He kissed me deeply and we left it there. I knew that he would come around and I was willing to give him the time to process it all. Over the next couple of weeks, I watched Ido make a very big effort with Rafi. He bought him a remote control car, wrestled with him, pillow fights, and even surprised him with pizza one night.  Rafi was sold. Watching my son bond with a man gave me all the feels. Mostly gratitude mixed with caution. Could it be this easy? Is God really this damn good? I wanted so badly to let things flow. But I’m a mom and I had to say it. “You know this isn’t the same as me connecting with your girls. Rafi doesn’t have a dad. I need you to really think about what you’re doing.” Ido looked at me with a very serious look on his face. “I won’t hurt him. Or you. I know exactly the significance of what’s happening right now. You can trust me.” And I did. Interestingly, it wouldn’t be Rafi who had a hard time with our relationship. Once the war started, it became clear that I was actually the step-parent who had the biggest challenges ahead of me. Even though Ido’s girls are Irish twins, they couldn’t be more different. But the one thing they have in common is their experiences with having divorced parents who date. Turns out Rafi had a more steady upbringing then these girls did. Which really reinforced a truth I had learned as a therapist; kids don’t need two parents as much as they need happy, healthy parents. It would all get so complicated as these pre-teen girls realized that I was here to stay. But more on that later…. Six weeks into our relationship, I left for America for a work conference and to visit with friends. This would be my first time coming home since moving to Israel. I was so stoked for this trip. While in America, I would celebrate 8 years of sobriety with my Philly AA friends, see my brother for the first time in a year, and do my favorite thing on earth – coach live on stage. If you’re reading this blog and don’t know me very well, I am a life coach. I am one of those people who is blessed with a career that doesn’t feel like work. I. LOVE. TO. COACH. I have a super power; I can hear someone talk about their pain, tune out all the noise & mess, and be able to pick out exactly what the root of the problem is and how to fix it. And I can usually do it in about 7 minutes.  People tell me all the time that I am an incredible coach. And as nice as that is to hear, I am deeply aware that it has nothing to do with me. I take zero credit. I know that I’ve been given this gift by God so that I can help His other kids. He assigned me a calling and has made that calling effortless for me so that I can be of maximum service. And I don’t take that assignment lightly. I don’t sugarcoat and I don’t say things to try and make others feel better about themselves. I gift them with the truth. Leading up to the trip, Ido and I talked about how we felt. “I’m sad you’re leaving, I’m going to miss you. But I feel calm about it,” he said. Meanwhile I had an intuition that the trip would bring us closer. And man was I right. Something interesting happens when you are long distance, even if for a short time. Without being able to go on a date, touch each other, or see each other – all that’s left is talking. So.Much.Talking. I was jetlagged for most of my trip and spent my nights video chatting with him. In those two weeks, we talked about EVERYTHING. What we want, what we don’t want, past relationships, family trauma, sex, and our values around religion & politics. We also talked about how October 7th had affected us. He was interested to hear what it was like to be Jewish in America during that time and I was interested to hear what it was like to live in Israel during that time. Ido used to be a cop in Tel-Aviv. He was also trained for combat in the Israeli army. He was no stranger to dangerous situations. But on October 7th, he and his girls were visiting his family in Be-er Sheva which is much much closer to Gaza than where we currently live.  When the massacre happened and the sirens started going off, he ended up locked in the safe room with his family for 3 hours. I was riveted as he told me his experience. “When it all started we were so confused. The sirens wouldn’t stop and no one knew what was going on. We heard that terrorists were coming into family homes and killing people. We didn’t know where they were. Would they come into my brother’s house where we were? It seemed stupid to stay put. After 3 hours of non-stop loud sirens and my girls petrified in the safe room, I decided to make a run for it. Their mother was hysterical and wanted them home. I threw them in the backseat and told them to stay low. I put a blanket over them so that terrorists wouldn’t see I had kids. I drove as fast as I could back to the center of the country. Only by the Grace of God did we make it. I learned later that I had literally passed some of the massacres on the highway. Thank God I didn’t get off. For weeks we were all scared that terrorists would just come into our homes at night. We were all so traumatized. We slept with our shoes on. I got a gun and slept with it under my pillow. The images and videos of what they did kept all of us awake for weeks, watching our kids sleep and guarding them with our life.” I took a deep breath as I imagined what that was like. Damn. When I returned to Israel from my two week trip in the States, Ido picked me up at the airport with roses and jewelry.  Phenomenal move. He dropped me off at my house so I could reunite with my son and spend some time with him alone. Then he came back to be with me after Rafi went to bed. As he watched me unpack, we joked around and enjoyed being back in each other’s presence. It felt different than before my trip. It was much more intimate now. We somehow got on the topic of past partner’s nationalities. I jokingly said “yeah and now you have an American girlfriend!” “Yes,” he said. “And that’s the last girlfriend I’ll have.” I froze. Can he see me from behind my suitcase? Does he know that I’m frozen? I swallowed. “Oh really?” He laughed at my awkwardness, “what you think I’m just fucking around here?” “No” I said very slowly. “But you can be not fucking around and also not be sure that I’m your last.” He cocked his head to the side with a smile. “What, aren’t you sure?” I nodded yes. Have I blinked yet? What’s happening right now? I couldn’t totally relax into the moment cause I was still weary about whether he wanted another child. I would just be digging myself into a painful hole. I didn’t know what to say. So I just stared at him. He asked me to come sit next to him. “I have some things I want to say to you.” My heart was pounding. But also I felt calm. This simultaneous polarity was a feeling I was getting used to with Ido. “Listen, you know I love you right?” We hadn’t said that yet. It was so interesting having a man tell me he loves me in Hebrew. It felt different and special. “Well, now I do,” I said slowly. “Of course I love you. A lot. I know you could feel it from me. I’ve been wanting to say it for a while but I didn’t want to scare you.” I chuckled. We had only known each other a couple of months. How long could he possibly have been holding it in?  And then he said everything… “I want to marry you. I want to raise Rafi as my own. I want us to build a home together. And I want us to make a child of our own.” You know how sometimes you get everything you want and your body can’t handle it? So you just kinda float outside of yourself and watch? That’s exactly what happened to me at that moment. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say. I love you too. And I want all those things too. But I just have to double check something. Are you saying the kid thing because you know it’s the only way to be with me? I don’t want to be with someone who’s only having a kid to make me happy. It sounds romantic in theory but in real life it’s not.” He smiled at me. His eyes smile just as much as his mouth does. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I’ve been really thinking about it and I’ve been consulting with some trusted friends.” One of my favorite things about Ido is the quality circle he keeps around him. You can tell a lot about someone by the friends they keep. He continued, “I’ve been afraid. I had such a painful divorce and single parenting experience that I just figured it was easiest to cut out any possibility of that happening again. But these past few weeks something has shifted in me. I think with you it would be different. I think it would be amazing.” I was in shock. Is this real? Does being true to yourself really work as well as I tell people it does? Of course it does. In that moment, everything was picture perfect. But in the coming months, we would face a lot of stress. Moving in. War. Lock-down. Step-parenting. And my biological clock screaming through all of it. How would we hold up? Would communication & compatibility continue us down this amazing path we were on? Or would these very real life stressors take over? Tune in to Part 2 to find out…  Love, Elana Did you miss my former blog entries? No worries! Read them here. Want to share this blog with others? Send them here 👇 https://partnershipaligned.aweb.page/p/b3dfc762-26b1-42bf-a501-e79269e933e6 |
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