Chapter 14
Udi-Yehuda was born a year after the wedding and was named after Jonathan’s father, who had passed away shortly before the birth.
Jonathan was beside himself with happiness when he invited friends, colleagues and public figures to his son’s circumcision ceremony. “You’re out of your mind, there’ll be a thousand people there!” Talia laughed, happy yet exhausted after the caesarian she’d undergone. The pregnancy itself was uncomplicated, as was the delivery, but at the last moment Dr. Gordon declared fetal distress and decided to operate.
Talia recovered quickly, and a day after the delivery her head was awash with plans. She thought of Na’ama, who had been staying with her father in Ramat Hasharon. Talia was afraid the little girl might feel left out with the new arrival, so she vowed to give her plenty of attention. Perhaps she would enroll her in some extracurricular activities, and as soon as Talia could resume her daily routine, she’d drive her daughter to the activities, wait for her and drive her home. She asked Jonathan to buy a present for Na’ama in his name and that of her new little brother. Well, this may do for a start, she reasoned, trying to ally her gnawing guilt; the new baby had already filled her heart and soul. He had a perfectly round head, and she knowingly explained to Jonathan that C-section babies are exceptionally good looking, being gently lifted from the womb, rather than having the tops of their heads squashed by contractions and the hands of impatient obstetricians and midwives.
She remembered the intense emotion that had overcome her when he’d given birth to Na’ama, but this time her happiness was on a different scale; it was happiness born out of the fulfillment of love. She felt a unique sense of accomplishment: to give birth to a child conceived with the man she adored was something of which she’d always dreamed. Her feelings of joy and exuberance were so intense, it was almost unbearable. And she knew Jonathan felt exactly the same.
Could such happiness last? Holding her beautiful baby, trying to nurse him, a strange, indefinable sensation penetrated her state of elation and threatened to destroy it. She felt the halo of light that had surrounded her in the last few days grow cloudy with a black pall of confusion. Trembling with fear, she considered this newly perceived emotion. A fairy tale spoke of beneficent fairies offering blessing to the newborn baby, but for one evil fairy hurling a curse. It was just a tale, she knew, but she also believed eternal truths lay within ancient myths and stories, those transmitted from generation to generation in many different cultures, and she felt a reverence for their power to survive. Jonathan had often ridiculed her affinity for the world beyond reality, for mysticism, for what he regarded simply as superstition.
Talia sat on the bed in her room at the private hospital, surrounded by enormous bouquets and exquisite flower arrangements. Even though she gave many away of them away to her friends and to the hospital nurses, the flowers kept coming in. At the end of each day, Jonathan read her the congratulatory messages written on the cards. Then he put them in his wallet. “This one came from Japan through Interflora. It’s from Manfred Goldberg, and this one from Italy, from his son, Samuel.” He pointed to two gorgeous wreaths, striking not so much from their size as for the beauty and rarity of their flowers and for the unusual arrangement. Both wreaths came from the flower shop of the Hilton Hotel. Talia did not check all the names of the senders, as most of them were Jonathan’s acquaintances and business clients. Her own friends and family brought the flowers in personally.
Dressed in the light blue satin robe that had been a gift from Jonathan’s mother, reclining on pillows, she received her many guests. White-silver sheets, a gift from her mother, replaced the standard hospital bedding. It amused her to observe the contest between the two mothers, who competed not for her love, but for the love of their grandchild. “Now it’s starting,” Talia thought, making a mental note to ask her mother to back off a bit; after all, Heidi already had three grandchildren, Na’ama and Yifat and Michal, Dorit’s children. Greta, on the other hand, who was older than her mother, was only now in her old age blessed with a first grandchild. Talia enjoyed watching her prim and proper mother-in-law, normally so rigid and formal in her demeanor, throw all her manners to the wind. She even went so far as to invite Talia and the baby to stay with her, “until she regained her strength,” although it was well known that the old lady could not tolerate noise or mess. Her usually stem face lit up when she bent down over the baby, although she did not dare take him in her arms; it was as though he were one of those Meissen porcelain dolls she had on display in glass cases in her living room. Talia, touched by her reaction, resolved to have another baby fairly soon so as to allow her mother-in-law to enjoy another grandchild.