Pesach was quickly approaching and I was experiencing “postpartum” blues. My “baby” was now six years old, and it was apparent that he was indeed the last child with whom Hashem would bless us. This meant the end of an era in my life. I was therefore feeling rather mournful as I went downtown, armed with a long list of errands. Though I tried to shake it I continued to feel negative, rather than having immense gratitude for having been granted children at all!
My spirits were immediately lifted at the thought of buying this familiar-looking piece and I excitedly entered the store the clouds of depression already beginning to dissipate.
To read the rest of this story please buy this issue of Mishpacha or sign up for a weekly subscription.
Create a free account to keep reading.
