18 - Counting of a Different Kind

Counting of a Different Kind: Anticipating the Omer
written and originally published in April 2009

Last year was different in a whole lot of ways. Every Passover I resolve to succeed at counting the Omer daily. How hard could it be to count 49 days? It starts out easy at the Seder on the second night. Today is the first day of the Omer. All I have to do is remember to say one sentence each day for the next 48 days, those leading up to the next major Jewish holiday Shavuot. Every year I failed; it seems the challenge wasn't big enough or meaningful enough for me to take so seriously. After all Shavuot would arrive seven weeks later whether or not I was counting days.

Last year counting was a matter of life and death. Counting is a serious thing. A superstitious Jewish custom forbids counting people as numbering lives diminishes them. This wisdom came long before the Shoah when the Nazis tattooed numbers for name replacements on our people's arms. At the same time, we encourage community and require ten people gathered for most prayer services, and even three for an official opening to the grace after meals.

In ancient times these days between Passover and Shavuot were a time of uncertainty and a struggle of hope and faith and fear and longing. My ancestors in the wilderness left slavery for a promising yet precarious future and they marched on through the desert motivated by a glimmer of redemption that they didn't fully expect. When we look back today, we know that the reward was the revelation of Torah on Shavuot, but they did not know that. Their grumbling and faltering shows that they barely believed, nor expected a gift of any sort.

One year ago Passover I was in my 25th week of pregnancy with triplets. Most people count months of pregnancy but when you are carrying triplets you actually count days. Zero percent of triplet pregnancies make it full term, and they are so fragile that there is a high chance of spontaneous abortion until you reach 20 weeks. Fifty percent of triplet pregnancies are delivered by 32 weeks, minimally eight weeks premature. Until 28 weeks gestation chances of survival are tiny, and the likelihood of serious life altering complications are great. Every single day the babies stay inside the womb and grow increases their chances for life and for health.

Once the 20 week mark went by I took a breath - just one. Then I looked at the calendar and set my next goal. Instead of the 28 week mark, I would switch to the Jewish calendar, striving to count through the entire period of the Omer and through Shavuot. That would put me at exactly 33 weeks. From there I would reevaluate and set a new goal.

In contrast to years past, all I could do last year was count. I counted another day of keeping my babies alive, another day for them to grow, another day for building fat reserves to keep them warm, another day for their lungs to develop so they could hopefully breathe on their own. Each day in the womb reduces the days in the NICU by multiples.

When we held our first Seder I was 25 weeks and 5 days pregnant with my triplets. I was already confined to home, barely able to walk, triplet heavy with babies. My belly was already the size of a full term singleton pregnancy. Instead of a cloth napkin I used a table cloth. I counted my weight gain. I counted the clothes I outgrew. I counted the vitamins I swallowed. I labored over breath. I had few moments of sleep or comfort the entire pregnancy.

I counted to keep myself going. I did not know how much I could endure nor what outcome would befall me or when. I was at the mercy of fate and fellow. I had no choice but to let people help, to force a smile on my pained face to offer thanks for food delivered, meals served. It is difficult now for me to recount the details and to face the reality that I endured. Triplet pregnancies are amazing and all, but they are not pretty. As my doctor said again and again, bodies aren't made to carry three babies. It is miraculous that my uterus accommodated three babies, yet no cell of my being managed to make it through unaffected.

I went into labor towards the end of Shavuot. Even though I reached my goal of completing the Omer counting, 33 weeks was still too soon. As much as I wanted to meet these babies, I wanted them to grow bigger inside me even if it meant tolerating more hugeness and more heaviness and more hell. If I were to be really honest about the whole thing I would tell you in detail how I lost all my dignity, how vanity and self were decimated as I surrendered moment by moment with determination to do right by these souls.

Writing these words, I cannot continue to be present to the teary memories of those thirty-three weeks and the four days that followed, so I fast forward until Shabbat arrived with an eerie yet elegant air of serenity. The Shabbat Queen surely entered and changed the quality of time as I enjoyed dinner with my husband, step-daughter and father-in-law. The next morning I awoke to silence and sunrise over Lake Michigan. Upon awakening I couldn't predict that counting days was complete and by the next morning and for the rest of my life I would be counting in threes. Counting with confidence in the outcome is relegated to the past. Now I do not expect that just because I am counting the revelation will be granted. Far from simple, when we begin to count we cannot expect we will reach completion. When each day is a matter of life or death, we must count carefully and consciously.


Tonight, Friday April 16, 2010, after Shabbat arrives it will be the 18th day of the Omer. 2 weeks and 5 days of the Omer. 18, chai, life!

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