My baby was so close and yet still out of reach. All I could do was say Tehillim and beg Hashem to intercede
wIas expecting my first child when my sister, Gittel, called to tell me that she was getting engaged. Gittel and I are polar opposites but very close, and moving to Yerushalayim after my marriage hadn’t changed that.
I was ecstatic, but a quiet fear niggled at the back of my mind: Would I make it to the wedding? It was summertime, and I was due the day after Succos. I reassured myself that surely it would all work out, everyone knows how close we are; the couple would get married a few weeks after Succos and I’d join straight from the hospital, if necessary.
Wishful thinking aside, logistical considerations meant the wedding was ultimately scheduled for right after Succos, the day after my due date. I was torn. We’d have to choose between spending Yamim Noraim in America, away from my husband’s yeshivah and Eretz Yisrael, or staying home and missing the wedding. We discussed the issue ad nauseam and finally chose to stay put. I was still davening to make it to the wedding, but I knew the odds were stacked against me.
It was a Tuesday evening during bein hazmanim, after a busy day, when I realized I hadn’t felt movements in a while. I drank grape juice, and when that didn’t help, called home to see what my mother thought. My father, a rav who’d seen a lot, answered and encouraged me to get checked out, though it was probably nothing.
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