There’s no one talking to me, no one phoning me, no one expecting anything from me

I’M

flying back home to England after a very intense few days in Eretz Yisrael helping my daughter after birth. This five-hour plane ride is the first stretch of time I’m getting to myself in the whole trip. There’s no one talking to me, no one phoning me, no one expecting anything from me. And no guilt feelings that I “should” be doing anything else but sitting and relaxing. Funny thing to say while squished in a cramped airplane seat, but I haven’t had this much space in a very long time.

A voice jolts me out of my daydreams. “Would you like anything to drink, madam?” I look up to see a stewardess smiling down at me. Her name tag reads “Angel.”

“I like your name,” I say. “I call my little boy the same thing.”

She laughs and thanks me. “The problem is,” she says, “that I don’t always want to be an angel.”

I was an angel the last few days. I didn’t eat and I didn’t sleep. I had only five days to give to my daughter — I couldn’t leave my family for any longer — and I was determined to get the maximum out of every single minute, for her sake. My own physical needs switched off as I worked nonstop from early morning to late at night. Bad enough that I couldn’t support her through the birth (aside from crying into my Tehillim from 2,000 miles away); now it was time to get things done!