T
here were mountains of medical gobbledygook. Our parents, the only ones who knew about the cleft lip, helped us sift through it. We found out about a doctor right near us in Yerushalayim, Dr. Alexander Margulis, and scheduled a consultation.
“You’re far from the only family dealing with this,” the doctor told us, explaining that approximately one in every two thousand babies is born with the condition. He pulled out stacks of photos and spread them across his desk.
There were cute babies, some presurgery and some post. Squealing toddlers and sulking teenagers. Many had visible scars, but one thing was clear: They’d been born with a cleft and were living full lives despite it.
He also let me know I’d be able to nurse, even though it might be difficult. That was huge for me. At least that part of my dream — where I nursed my sweet-smelling newborn — at least that part was still intact.
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