The Very Last Time
This morning, I took 2-year-old Yonatan for a vaccination at the Tipat Chalav baby clinic. But this wasn’t just any trip to the baby clinic, this was Yonatan’s last vaccination, and therefore my last trip ever to Tipat Chalav.
I’ve never enjoyed going to Tipat Chalav. No matter when the appointment is, it’s always inconvenient. It’s always when I’d rather be taking a nap after gan drop-offs or writing a blog post, or doing just about anything else (this morning’s appointment was smack-dab in the middle of the community center’s fun biweekly get-together for stay-at-home moms which I was so disappointed to miss).
And there’s always the stress of the nurse’s gentle but ever-present interrogations– “the baby’s iron looks low” “he hasn’t gained at all since last month” “he should be saying full sentences already, this might be cause for concern…” Not to mention, the vaccination itself.
But still, like so many things I do as a mom, going to Tipat Chalav has been an integral part of my mothering life for the past 19 years.
And now it’s over.
And I will feel the same way when, over the coming months and years, I will change my last diaper. And make my last pony tail. And give my last bath. And do my last gan pickup.
Which is partly sad. And partly joyful.
Partly yaaahooooo! And partly boohoo…
A friend was recently telling me about the phrase “L’avdo b’levav shalem” –to serve Him with all our heart.
The weird thing about this phrase is that the word for heart is “Lev.” What in the world is a levav? What’s with the 2 vets over there?
And at least one commentator taught that Levav means two hearts– or two feelings in the same heart.
The happy and the sad. All mixed together.
And that’s not something to fix, the commentator explained. That’s the way a human heart, a mother’s heart, was created and is meant to be, forever.