Between Worlds

In January 2021, I was 37 weeks pregnant, and my husband, Yehuda, and I had just moved back to London from Yerushalayim with our four daughters. We were settling into our new apartment, anxiously waiting for our lift to arrive, when we came down with COVID-19.

Baruch Hashem, my husband and girls recovered quickly, but as the days went by, I felt worse and worse. My temperature crept up, and I was shaking, sweating, coughing, and in pain all over.

I was frightened for my unborn baby’s health, and early on Monday morning called the maternity ward at the local hospital, Barnet, for advice. They told me to come in urgently for a checkup. That set us off in a panic. My husband was in quarantine and couldn’t take me, and even if he could, who would look after our four daughters, who were also in quarantine and thus couldn’t be sent out to anyone?

We frantically called my brother Eli, who’s in Hatzalah, to see if he was available. Luckily, he wasn’t on shift and came immediately.