Uri Full of Light

by Holly Sortland

  "Where are you hurt?"

  Chana looked at Uri to answer as she was carefully moved onto a stretcher.

  "She has some deep scrapes on her head, and I think she may have a shrapnel wound in her groin area. I think she has a concussion as well."

  "And so does he," Lavie said to the nurse.

  "Lavie, I am fine," he said with irritation to his friend. "I need to be with Chana."

  "Sir, your wife is going to need some scans and tests. That is a pretty big gash you have on the side of your head. By the time we get you fixed up we should have news on your wife," a nurse attempted to reassure him.

  "Uri?" Chana called for him as they wheeled her through the lobby.

  "Chana, they're going to check everything out on you, and I have to get my head checked out. I probably need a few stitches, that's all. I will see you soon. I love you."

  "I love you, too," Chana responded, resigning herself to the fact that nothing was in her control.

  As Chana was wheeled into the emergency department, she was alarmed at how quickly they moved.

  They asked dozens of questions:

  Do you know where you are and what year it is? Can you tell us your full name?

  Are you in pain? On a scale of 1 to 10 how bad is it the pain? Are you having contractions? Have you noticed the change in baby's movement? Do you feel dizzy?

  "The baby hasn't been moving as much," Chana told them as they assessed her wound.

  It seemed as if only seconds passed before an ultrasound tech entered the room and attached fetal monitors to Chana's stomach.

  The attending emergency room physician looked at a monitor with a grim expression.

  “Page Dr. Shahar now, please,” he directed a nurse.

  “What’s wrong? Who is Dr. Shahar?” Chana wanted answers immediately.

  “Dr. Shahar is our attending obstetrician,” the Dr. explained. “We will have to wait until she gets here, but I think that she’s going to recommend an emergency C-section. The baby’s heart rate is slow and dropping.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with her?” Chana asked, desperately wishing Uri was with her.

  “Dr. Shahar will be here soon and she’ll explain everything to you,” the doctor smiled calmly at Chana.

  Before Chana could ask another question, a woman wearing blue scrubs entered the room.

  “Hi Chana, I’m Dr. Shahar. Let’s see what we have going on here.”

  She looked at the monitor with a slightly less grim expression than the other physician. She felt Chana’s stomach to get an idea of the position of the baby.

  “Have you had any contractions?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve never had a contraction before.” Chana grew more anxious.

  “And you’ve noticed a decrease in baby’s movement?”

  “Yes, my husband and I only felt her kick once on our way here.”

  Dr. Shahar looked at the monitor again and then calmly walked to the other side of the bed so she could talk to Chana face to face. Chana noticed the doctor’s beautiful hazel, almond shaped eyes. She had eyebrows that reminded her of Faith.

  “Chana, I’ve worked in many situations like this. The baby appears to be in distress for some reason, so we need to get the baby out. I have never lost a baby yet, and I’ve been doing this for eighteen years. We need to get your baby out as soon as possible, which means we don't have the time for an epidural.

  “Another surgeon is going to have to access the shrapnel that’s in your groin. But right now, we’re taking you to the operating room, and we’re going to put you under general anesthesia. Have you been under general anesthesia before?”

  “Yes, a long time ago. I had my tonsils out when I was ten.”

  “And you did fine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. We’re going to go to the OR now and today you’ll get to meet your baby girl. . .or boy?” Dr. Shahar continued to speak in a soothing way that mesmerized Chana.

  “It’s a girl,” Chana said.

  “Wonderful!” The doctor turned to the nurses and politely ordered them to call the OR and page the anesthesiologist.

  “Are you ready?” she asked Chana.

  “Can I see my husband? Uri Geller, he was taken to another room for stitches.”

  “We will let him know what’s going on and you will see him as soon as you wake up.”

  A terrified Chana closed her eyes. A memory of Uri in chemistry class years ago came into her mind. His arms. She always loved his arms.

  As she was wheeled into the cold operating room, she heard clanking noises and the spreading of sheets.

  “Ok, Chana what you’re feeling now is me putting iodine on your stomach,” Dr. Shahar explained.

  Chana kept her eyes closed and thought about the Viddui. Growing up in the shadow of her father’s impending death, it was a prayer she took time to memorize before her conversion. As she felt a cool sensation spread across her belly, she silently mouthed the words of the prayer:

  “I acknowledge before You, Lord my God and the God of my fathers, that my recovery and my death are in Your hands. May it be Your will that You heal me with total recovery, but, if I die, may my death be an atonement for all the errors, iniquities, and willful sins that I have erred, sinned and transgressed before You, and may You grant my share in the Garden of Eden, and grant me the merit to abide in the World to Come which is for the righteous. . .”

  Her prayer was interrupted by an anesthesiologist placing a mask over her face.

  “Ok, Chana, count down from ten for us,” the man said.

  Chana opened her eyes, the bright light above was shocking. She wondered if Uri knew where she was.

  “Chana?” the anesthesiologist said again. “Count down for us, please.”

  She closed her eyes and did as she was told: 10, 9, 8. . .

  43

  As soon as Chana closed her eyes, she opened them. She was in a different room now, hooked up to a heart monitor, a blood pressure cuff, and an intravenous line. Before she could ask about Uri or the baby, she felt the overwhelming urge to vomit.

  A nurse walked in and said, “Hello, sunshine, you’ve had quite the couple of hours.”

  “I am going to be sick," Chana uttered.

  Immediately the nurse placed a pink bowl in front of her. As Chana violently heaved, she felt a sharp, wicked pain in her abdomen. The nurse held back her hair and said reassuringly, “This is normal coming out of the anesthesia. I’m going to give you some anti-nausea meds in your IV. That will help a lot.”

  “Okay,” Chana said before she vomited again—the sharp pain almost unbearable.

  When she was done, the nurse wiped her face and chin with a warm cloth, and as she promised, she injected something into Chana’s IV line.

  “That hurt so much,” Chana managed to speak. Her voice was tired and hoarse.

  “You just had major surgery. That doesn’t mix well with vomiting. You’ll be due for some more pain meds soon.”

  Chana looked at the pink vomit bowl beside the sink and suddenly noticed she wasn’t pregnant anymore.

  “Where’s my baby? Is she okay?” she asked the nurse urgently.

  The nurse smiled at her. “You have a beautiful, baby girl. She is a little on the small side but perfectly healthy. She needed some oxygen when she came out of you, but she is doing great now. Your husband is with her.”

  “I need to see them now,” Chana pleaded.

  “I know it’s hard, but we usually keep the patient in recovery for an hour after they wake up before they can see family.”

  “This is not an ordinary situation,” Chana said sharply. “My husband and my baby and I were nearly blown up by a suicide bomber. Please, let them come in.”

  Chana looked at the nurse’s name tag that read “Naomi.”

  “Please Naomi, I need to see them.” Tears poured down her cheeks as she was overwhelmed with emotion.

  Naomi sighed and looked at the clock. “Let me see what I can
do.”

  She placed a clean vomit bowl next to her bed. “In case you need it.”

  Chana closed her eyes as Naomi left the room. A few minutes passed and she panicked because she hadn’t felt the baby move. She opened her eyes and noticed the hospital sheet spread over her belly. A sense of relief came over her after she again realized she was no longer pregnant. Chana closed her eyes and imagined what her baby looked like. Did she have any hair? Was she crying?

  Groggy and close to falling asleep, she heard talking and footsteps.

  “Okay, Imma, are you ready to meet your baby?” Naomi entered the room with Uri behind her. He was holding something so small that Chana could not believe it was her baby.

  “Is that really her?” she asked Uri.

  “It’s our Michaela. She’s beautiful and perfect, just like her Imma.”

  Chana immediately started crying, and when she looked at Uri, she noticed he was crying, too.

  “Are you ready to hold her?” Naomi asked.

  “Oh my gosh yes!” Chana tried to sit up in bed as high as she could.

  “Abba, make sure you hold her head when you hand her over,” Naomi reminded him. Uri kissed Michaela’s head before he gently passed her to Chana.

  Chana Geller was in awe of the tiny human being before her. The baby’s eyes were closed tight as she squirmed in discontent. She had a little cap on her head which Chana removed to see a headful of dark brown hair.

  “She has so much hair! I absolutely love it,” she exclaimed through tears.

  Uri handed her some Kleenex.

  “Hi baby girl,” Chana said lovingly. “I’m your Imma. I can’t believe you’re here. . .how much does she weigh?”

  “2500 grams,” Uri softly whispered, holding the baby’s tiny finger.

  “I am too tired to convert that Uri,” Chana said, wanting to hear American metrics.

  “Sorry, 5 lbs. and 8 oz. And she’s eighteen inches long.”

  “That is so small! Are you sure she’s okay?” Chana looked at Naomi.

  “Absolutely, she is nearly full term at almost thirty-six weeks. Her lungs are strong. But what’s most important now is that she eats. Are you breast or bottle feeding?”

  “Oh, I want to try breastfeeding,” Chana said.

  “Well then let’s get at it,” Naomi answered. “She’s rooting so I know she’s hungry.”

  “I have no idea what to do,” Chana admitted nervously.

  “I will help you every step of the way,” the nurse assured her.

  Ten minutes later after trying various positions with the crying, tiny Michaela, the nurse finally got her to latch on.

  “This feels so weird!” Chana said. “But it's a good weird. I don’t have any milk, are you sure she’s getting anything?”

  “Oh yes, she’s getting your colostrum, the miracle milk from an Imma.”

  As Michaela ate, Chana finally found the time to pay attention to Uri.

  She noticed the stitches on the side of his head and that he was wearing a pair of hospital scrubs.

  “Are you ok? How is your head?” she asked him.

  “I am fine, just a few stitches in my head and my knee. I’ve been so worried about you.”

  “Dr. Shahar should be doing rounds soon. You can ask her any questions about the surgery," Naomi informed them.

  “Are you in pain?” Uri asked his wife.

  “I was, but I’m not anymore,” Chana responded as she caressed Michaela’s tiny back.

  “Look at our daughter. We have a daughter!” She ran her fingers through her baby’s tiny strands of hair. Soon Michaela unlatched; her mother’s colostrum put her into a deep sleep.

  “That’s the most content she’s been since she was born. She knows her Imma,” Uri said as he gently stroked Chana’s cheek.

  “I don’t think you’re allowed to touch me. I’m fairly sure I am bleeding,” Chana said. Once again, the tears started to flow. “Why am I so emotional?”

  They heard a knock on the door and Dr. Shahar entered.

  “Chana, your color is good. How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “I can’t stop crying,” Chana answered as Uri laid the entire Kleenex box on the bed.

  “That’s completely normal for any new mother, not to mention one who has been through a trauma,” Dr. Shahar explained.

  “You have endured a lot today, Chana. Fortunately, your C-section went well, but it was good we got the baby out when we did. We believe that the trauma you underwent in the blast caused your body to go into shock which caused a slight placental abruption. We are lucky we didn’t wait any longer that we did. A full abruption can be fatal for mother and baby.

  “Because of the extra bleeding due to the abruption, we gave you two units of blood as a precautionary measure. You were also taken to X-ray where the wound in your groin was assessed.

  “You were incredibly lucky. It was a piece of a nail that missed your veins and arteries. The trauma surgeon was able to take it out quickly and clean out the wound. We have you on an intravenous antibiotic to prevent infection.” The doctor looked at the baby girl admiringly. “Can I answer any questions?”

  “Is the antibiotic safe for the baby?” Chana asked.

  “Yes, we have you on one that is approved for nursing mothers.”

  Chana smiled and thanked her.

  “Mazel Tov on your beautiful daughter!” Dr. Shahar said as she left the room.

  Uri followed her out.

  “Doctor?”

  He caught her attention before she made her way into the next room.

  “Thank you for saving my wife and our baby. They are my entire life.”

  “You’re welcome,” she responded. “Now go be with your family.”

  As he walked back into the room, Uri looked at the beauty before him. A tiny, sleeping baby on his wife’s breast. He marveled that even amidst the horror and violence of that day, HaShem had blessed them.

  When he sat back down, Chana looked at him lovingly.

  “You should say a blessing, Uri.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” he replied. “I said the Shehecheyanu the moment I saw her.”

  “Will you say the Priestly Blessing?” Chana asked. “I love that one.”

  Chana closed her eyes as she listened to her husband’s gentle voice bless their daughter.

  “May God bless you and keep you, may God cause the divine light to shine upon you and be gracious to you, may God turn his face toward you and grant you peace. . .”

  44

  The next day brought visitors, joy, and somber news. Four people, including the bomber, Hassam Basara, were killed the day before and fourteen were seriously injured. Uri was credited by his commander that if he and Dina hadn’t cleared the square at the Clock Tower, many more would likely be dead.

  Despite the despair of being so close to terror and death, the Gellers spent the next day celebrating the life of baby Michaela. Avi and Devorah visited first. They were beside themselves with happiness.

  “Come here to your Bubbe,” Devorah said as she took Michaela from Uri’s arms.

  “She is the most precious child I have ever seen. How wonderful it is to have a girl to spoil!” She gently rocked the sleeping baby in her arms, singing her a Yiddish lullaby.

  Avi sat next to Chana. “How are you, my dear?”

  “I am tired. Happy. Overwhelmed. Sad. But mostly happy. Incredibly happy.”

  “You have been through a lot, my dear. And I think you also saved my son’s life,” Avi said. His appreciation was evident in his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Chana asked.

  “If you hadn’t walked back towards the square, Uri would have continued to engage the bomber. He told me that his Arabic was a bit shaky. If Uri hadn’t seen you and left when he did, he could have made another mistake to tip off the bomber, and Uri likely would have been right next to him when he detonated.”

  Uri sat beside them as Devorah continued to dote on Michaela.
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  “It was the strangest thing,” Chana said. “

  “I knew I needed to get to the car with Lavie and Penina, and this voice kept saying don’t look back. Don’t look back. You know, like the story of Lot’s wife when HaShem destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.”

  When Uri heard her say those words, a shiver ran through his body. He remembered experiencing the same experience years before in South Dakota, when he attempted to run away from Chana in the hallways of the high school.

  “Then what happened?" Avi asked.

  “I looked back. And I knew I couldn’t leave Uri. It was like HaShem’s voice was telling me to go to him. I left Lavie and Penina just as Penina was getting in their car. I ran back as fast as I could to the Clock Tower. And that’s when I saw Uri talking to this boy and a woman soldier getting people off the square.

  “I knew Uri would leave if he saw me. I knew I couldn’t yell his name. I prayed to HaShem. Please HaShem let Uri see me. And he did. And he ran towards me and told me to run and the rest is a blur.”

  "Baruch HaShem that you came back when you did," Avi told Chana. "We are fortunate to have you in our family."

  "Yes, we are," Devorah echoed Avi's sentiment. "And we are so grateful that you've blessed us with this precious child."

  For the first time since she met her, Devorah looked at Chana with unquestioning love in her eyes.

  "And I think this baby is hungry," she said, gently placing Michaela in Chana's arms.

  Avi rose from his chair and invited Devorah to join him in the cafeteria for some coffee.

  "Wait," Chana stopped them before they left the room.

  “Devorah, do you have your camera?”

  “Of course, I hope to get many pictures of the baby when we come back.”

  “Can you take a picture of Uri and Michaela and me? Now?”

  “Chana, we have lots of time for pictures, we don’t have to do it now,” Uri interjected.

  “No, it just feels right. I think we should take some pictures now. . .please,” Chana said.

  “Of course,” Devorah said as she pulled her camera from her purse.

  “Uri, why don’t you stand behind the bed if you can and lean your head down next to Chana’s,” Devorah suggested before taking several pictures.