It can't be.
It’s not possible. Is it really the Hebrew month of Elul?
Oh my.
That means Rosh Hashanah is around the corner. A chill goes down my spine as I realize that on that day, a decision will be made on what the coming year will bring me. The last few years have brought me much joy, laughter, and amazing times with my husband, family, and friends. They have not, however, brought me something I long for: a child. On Rosh Hashanah, G‑d will decide if I will conceive in the coming year. Each year, tears fall on the page of my siddur as I hide my face from the curious eyes around me. I beseech G‑d to answer my prayers like He answered those of Sarah, the wife of Abraham. She was, after all, 90 years old when her prayers were answered. “Please God,” I beg, “do not let me wait even half as long as she did!” I know that if He ordains it so, I may be a mother within this year. But if He does not, any medical treatment I subject myself to will be for naught. However, I always have another 12 months to appeal the decision for next year.
Looking back at the Rosh Hashanah of my first year of marriage, I smile. I recall a conversation with my friend, marveling at how much had changed in the past year. In one year, both of us had met and married our husbands. We laughed as we spoke, almost giddy with disbelief at our good fortune.
Fast forward another year. Most of my friends were married by then, with all of those married pregnant or with babies of their own. Except me. I realized with a jolt that in comparison with past years, where so much had changed for me, that year, much had remained the same. I was unsure, was this a good or a bad thing?
Did I want my life to change? Or was the old adage, "If it ain’t broke, don't fix it" applicable to my life?
But as another year crawled by, I realized something. G‑d brought us into this world to transform. We were put here to change for the better, and we need to try to do so each and every day of our lives. To remain stagnant is a crime; to fall back even worse.
And so, if I felt that nothing in my life was changing, it was only natural for me to crave a significant shift in my life. Some people create change through new careers, volunteerism, or philanthropy. In my case, what I truly wanted right now was a baby of my own.
Now, that sounds perfectly logical, doesn't it? Guess what? I thought so, too, until I reread the last few paragraphs (you can, too) and realized something so obvious.
My longing for a child does not have to be logical. It does not have to have a well-thought-out argument. I just long for a child. Period.
I want to be pregnant. BOOM.
I want to have children. BANG.
I want to have a large family and raise them all with a love for G‑d. SHEBANG!
It’s simple.
It doesn't have to make sense. It doesn't have to have good reasons. I just know one thing, and I am so sure of it my heart would yell it if it could. I want a child. I pray for a child.
I don't know if I will get what I ask for. I also don't know the reasons for decisions G‑d makes, and I don't want to know them.
I know what I need to know. I know He loves me, like He loves all of you. Many times we pray for things and don't get them, and people feel like that’s a waste of prayers. But there is no such thing as a wasted prayer. G‑d always answers. It’s just that sometimes, the answer can be “No.”
If G‑d wills something to be, it happens. May it be His will that all of those suffering from infertility hear a “YES” in the coming year.
Elisheva's son: Thank you for your kind wishes RMM in Florida Our baby, Mathias Joshua, is 35 years old. He was named after his Zayde who had come to take us to Stratford for dinner and a play when I was just barely four months pregnant - of course Bubbe came too! But it was Zayde with a twinkle and a tear in his eye. He took me aside (he knew about our struggles to conceive) and he told me so gently to be happy but not to hope too much, something could happen. And you may already know, since the baby was named after Zayde, that my dear father (in-law if I must say that) died of a heart attack at age 56 years of age. His death was instant. That was in October and I didn't really show at all yet; still, the sight of me bothered Bubbe so much that she bought me a berth on the train and I was escorted to the train by relatives to go home my myself, carrying Zayde's first grandchild. I felt I had to do what she wished and perhaps she feared for our health. We met again at the bris and that is a tale in itself. I long to tell it here!