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On June 13, we were packed and ready to go to the hospital, but there was no sign of labor; I was not feeling any pain. I felt like resting, and was studying for Torah study on my bed. My husband and two-year-old were at the park. I was alone.
I looked up at the books on the shelf. A book by Amos Elon, called “The Israelis: Founders and Sons,” caught my eye. There was a Hasid on the cover, praying and rejoicing. It made me relax. I relaxed so much the baby crowned. I knew, at that moment, I couldn’t go anywhere. One push.
Two minutes later, flat on my bed, I had a baby girl. She was born at 6:54 p.m. I picked her up, and removed the filmlike substance from her face. We looked at each other for a second.
She started to cry. I said to her, Adonai’s will, Torah, chazak, chazak, chazak! I got up from the bed. I went to the kitchen, and cut the cord. A little blood and placenta came out, so I sat on the bathtub. My husband came home with Kayla, my two-year-old. He found me and Kol in the bathroom. He said, “Oh my G-d” a million times. We tied off the cord with dental floss and spent a quiet evening at home.
The next morning, my rabbi came. We called 911 and went to the hospital. I thought we were just going to get the placenta removed.
The hospital staff wouldn’t release me. They said that I didn’t come to the hospital on purpose, and that the reason was I was refusing a Christian doctor.
MY BAG WAS PACKED. I DIDN’T HAVE ANY WARNING OF LABOR. SHE JUST CAME OUT, SO I COULDN’T GO ANYWHERE. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHO WAS ON CALL THAT NIGHT! (It would have been my doctor, Dr. Amaru, anyway.)
They said I had delusions of ancient rituals about having a baby in the fields. A bed is hardly a field! My maternity bed turned into a psych-ward bed. Unbelievable. I had just had a miraculously healthy, all-alone home birth. I should have been getting a medal of honor. Doctor at delivery, Meera Popkin!
They blamed it all on my mental illness, schizophrenia; I’ve had a mild case since 1997. They said that I needed to go back on medication, and that I was neglectful of and abusive to the health of my baby.
Nobody could believe it; my family was totally distraught. My older daughter, husband and family went home. Kol went to the nursery, and I went to the psych ward. One day turned into a few days, a few days turned into a week, and so on.
They could’ve taken Kol away from me. I don’t think my husband would’ve been too happy about that.
Anyway, the next few weeks were filled with hospital food, beds, goal setting, medication, doctors and workshops. I had a breast pump in there. I had daily visits to the nursery. Ridiculous. People were really sick in there, as well as being sick of being in there.
They set a court date for me on July 10. I got out on July 7.
Now ACS [the Administration for Children's Services] visits us, we have a homemaker in the home, and I can’t be alone with the kids. I guess a person who performs a mini-miracle is considered dangerous or something.
I also see my doctor once a week, and get Haldol shots every month. Our court date for a settlement is October 18; if we don't settle, we go to trial on November 29. Pray for us.
I do not know what is going to happen. But I do know that I’m writing a play and/or musical about this. I can’t wait till the book or movie about this comes out. Too much drama for real life. This kind of thing only happens in the movies. Know of any producers? Broadway, here I come.