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Everything is on the table with the Israeli — and I like that. There are no secrets. But after dating for six months, the fact that he wants to have a baby ASAP appears to be our deal breaker.

The thought of having another child terrifies me. Maybe because, as a single mother, I’ve never raised a child with a partner before. Maybe because I’m only beginning to discover who I really am and I don’t want to give that up.

I can’t help but think about all the strong-willed, independent Jewish women who made a difference. There’s Emma Goldman, who dedicated her life to social justice. She wasn’t struggling tirelessly against inequality and repression with a baby on her hip.

There’s also Bella Abzug, who was giving speeches at her family’s synagogue when she was just 13. At 50, she ran for Congress and won on a feminist and peace platform. Like these Jewish activists, I want to have the freedom to make a difference in this world, too.

Unfortunately, on my next date with the Israeli, we are bickering about “The Baby” again.

“It sounds like we need to break up,” I say. “I won’t be on your timetable.”

“Fine, then,” he counters.

I call my girlfriends and cry on the phone. My perceptive Jewish girlfriend, Siobhan, knows this can’t be the end.

“More will be revealed,” she tells me.

Then my mom calls from Walnut Creek, where I was raised. “You’re making a mistake. He’s a gem.”

I’m silent.

“You know how you’re always talking about all those nice Jewish dads who belong to your daughter’s friends?” she asks.

“Yes,” I sniffle.

“Well, you can hold a candle to any of those guys — and he will stand up to him!”

“I know, Mom — ”

“He has the best sense of humor,” she says.”He seems like a rock-solid, happy human being. And he’s crazy about both of you! Just have the baby.”

“Mom!” I say, red in the face with anger. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

In the meantime, the Israeli and I keep hanging out. We like being in each other’s presence. He invites me to a party downtown. I tell his Israeli buddies at the wine table, “You know we broke up, right?”

They nod their heads, looking confused. That’s because we don’t look like a couple that just broke up. We laugh. We stand close to each other, talking. We look into each other’s eyes with longing.

So I contact Rabbi Josh Zweiback from Congregation Beth Am in Los Altos Hills to get his perspective on this mess called love.

“Love can conquer all,” he tells me. (Thanks!)

He also emails me a verse from Song of Songs: “Love is as strong as death.”

“Death conquers all and love conquers all,” Rabbi Zweiback explains. “And this is the way in which death and love are equally strong. From this perspective, we are hard-wired to love.”

Then the matchmaking friend who originally set us up — through this very column — invites us to San Francisco for Shabbat. She is six months pregnant with their first child.

Nothing but babies all around.

We sit at their dining room table. My daughter, Mae, sits in the Israeli’s lap.

“Look,” the friend says. “I don’t get it. You two are perfect for each other.”

“But the baby,” I say.

She looks at the Israeli: “Can you let the baby go for a couple of years?”

He nods his head.

“See how easy that was?” she says to me. “He can compromise!”

“But — ” I say, thinking, Why wasn’t he this easy with me?

“Just look at you!” she says. “You belong together! You can’t break up.”

“We can’t?”

“No more baby talk. Just hang out. Have fun. Don’t bring the baby up again for at least two months, OK?”

“OK,” he says.

“OK,” I say.

And just like that, we’re back together. Rabbi Zweiback is right: we are hard-wired to love.