Immortality

I am in the hospital awaiting the birth of my firstborn. The pain is intense. No one prepared me for this. I knew there would be pain, but I didn't really know. How could I know? How could I even imagine this agony?

My baby is not yet ready to be born. I am told to walk around for about an hour. I walk a few feet, stopping every few minutes as a spasm of pain rips through my body, and I collapse into the nearest chair. An hour… I can't bear an hour of this.

"I want to go home." The words come out in a choked sob.

My husband looks concerned.

"Home?" He seems confused. "Do you want to have the baby at home?"

"No." My voice is hoarse. I have no strength to explain. "I changed my mind. I just wanna go home. I changed my mind about this. Just take me home, please."

We stay. It's a boy. A beautiful, healthy boy. We name him after my grandfather – the first great grandson named after him.



Recently, my husband and I are honored with kvatter. The baby is my nephew. I hold him close, and look into his eyes. He looks back at me, his gaze calm and steady. He is beautiful. I give him a quick kiss and hand him to my husband.

His name is announced. He is named after my grandfather, another great grandchild joining the many who now bear his name.



A relative of mine passed away last week. He was a good person. And too young to die. I listen to his wife and daughters talk about him. There is so much to say…so many stories…so much good…so many lives he's touched. I blink away my tears. I have so many questions. He was so young.

I look at his daughters, and I know that they will name children after him, and their children will name children after him. They will be proud and honored to carry his name. His memory will endure.



I did two taharas one night this week. The first one is difficult and we are shorthanded. It takes longer than usual. When we are done, I am tired. But I feel good. We prepare for the second. I ask for the Jewish name. No one knows it. There is no family to ask.

I am sad. Sad for this woman who lived 98 years, but died alone. Sad that she left no one…no one to sit shivah for her, no one to remember her, no one to eternalize her memory, no one to carry her name.



And suddenly, it is very important to me that I make my mark on this world, somehow…that I touch lives…that I make my children proud to perpetuate my name. That I am remembered.

I have a lot of work ahead of me, and I have no idea how much time I have to achieve that goal.

But I am ready to start.