I stood in the synagogue with my friends last Rosh Hashanah, swaying in deep concentration and harmony. We each prayed for whatever our hearts were yearning for.

This year, after a devastating end to fertility treatment, I realized my prayer to cradle a newborn with a machzor in my hand wouldn’t be my reality.

I called a foster agency. G‑d has many ways of saying “yes,” I told myself.

They told me I was too young and that I should call back in a year-and-a-half.

My husband invited our friends to come to stay with us for Passover. As I greeted our guests at the door, I froze. Her oversized sweater said it all.

G‑d, you said yes to her prayers and no to mine! It isn’t fair. I hugged her with my heart still in shock. G‑d, why are you choosing to rub in my face the very friend who prayed next to me on Rosh Hashanah? You said “yes” to her prayers and “no” to mine!

I ran to my solace, my keyboard, and began to write before the start of the holiday. Stories may start sad but always have a happy ending.

Safely pouring my frustration onto the page always opens me up to how I can write a happy ending. Being the narrator of my own life empowers me to want to create an awesome twist in the plot that I didn't even see coming. To surprise my own soul is the greatest joy.

G‑d, my friends will cradle their babies this Rosh Hashanah. Let me have something to give you also. Something to know that I, too, can add light to this world, albeit in a different form than I originally asked for.

My friend rubbed her stomach while resting on our couch; I typed faster.

For the rest of Passover vacation, I invited more friends with babies over; they became my inspiration. I told myself, “Just as they work so hard and are so dedicated to their babies and pregnancies, I am dedicated to my Rosh Hashanah gift to G‑d. Just as they nurture their children, I can nurture my inner child through the fun of creating a book.”

My first book, Jumping in Puddles: A Transformational Memoir, was born 12 days before Rosh Hashanah, on Chai Elul, the 18th of Elul, the day we are told to spread the wellsprings of Chassidus out to the entire world. I felt like my prayer and my pain were heard and accepted with love—that G‑d hadn’t forgotten me after all.

Someone told me that it wasn’t smart for me to share so personally in my book. That it was better to keep things of my past hush hush; that these things shamed me. And who knows, they said, what your future children will think?

I considered buying into this fear, and then I began to laugh. They helped me realize my truth. This book is my path to my children. By getting to impact others’ lives with my memoir, we have a soul bond. What more could I ask for?

My friend sent me a cute baby pic from her baby’s bris. I wished her “mazal tov,” and I meant it. I sent her the Amazon link to my book, and she wished me “mazal tov.”

I thought I was all good until I found myself crying in the fruit store the day before Rosh Hashanah.

Another friend who was part of our Rosh Hashanah prayers waved, and I saw her beautiful seventh-month glow.

G‑d! You said “yes” to her prayers and “no” to mine! The pain of holding back tears stung my mouth as I managed to wish her shanah tovah—a good year.

I called my coach. No more running from this pain. It was time to do my inner work.

“What’s in your space, sweetheart?”

“G‑d said ‘no’ to my prayers!”

“Is it true?”

“Yes! I asked for a baby, and my arms are empty.”

“Can you absolutely know it’s true?”

“Well, I guess not absolutely.”

“How do you treat yourself as you believe the thought?”

“I hate my body; I feel worthless. I try to distract myself from the pain with work.”

“How do you treat G‑d?”

“As my oppressor Who doesn’t care about me, and Who forgot about me. I don’t even want to show up for Rosh Hashanah prayers. Why should I?”

“What past images come up when you are a believer of this thought?”

“I was young, and there was a party I really wanted to go to. We got a flat tire on the way. I remember feeling that G‑d said ‘no’ to me.

“But looking back, the people I was going to hang out with didn’t really care about me. Maybe G‑d was protecting me?”

“Who would you be in the fruit store without the thought, ‘G‑d said ‘no’ to me?’ ”

“Just a woman standing in the store. Smelling the fragrances, looking at the vibrant yellow lemons, sunset-orange mangoes and wine-colored pomegranates, looking at a woman who is pregnant.

“The moment is a nice one without the thought.”

“Our pain, our triggers come to wake us up. They don’t cause us suffering; they make us realize how much we are already suffering. This thought has been hurting you. And you have the perfect person placed lovingly in the store to get to wake you up. G‑d’s world, reality, is always a lot kinder than we make it out to be.

“Try on a turnaround?”

“G‑d said ‘yes’ to my prayers?”

“I love what you found; give me three proofs.”

“Well, G‑d said ‘yes’ to my unanswered prayers, I never even prayed to write a book this year. That was beyond my wildest imagination.

“And G‑d said ‘yes’ to my prayers. I was in a lot of emotional pain over the fear of not getting pregnant the year before. I wanted G‑d to take the pain away. G‑d taught me how to let go this year; that was new for me. I still get triggered, but I’m not in constant emotional agony over it.

“And I wanted to teach Tanya classes again this year. True, I pictured myself bringing my baby to those classes, but nevertheless, that prayer was answered.”

“Wow, it is way more true that G‑d said ‘yes’ than ‘no’ to my prayers.”

“And how is it true that G‑d said ‘yes’ to your prayer to have a baby?”

“That’s a hard one …

“Well, I guess G‑d knows why I wanted a baby. G‑d created me, He knows my body’s and soul’s truest desires.

“G‑d can say yes to all of that, without giving me a baby.

“I wanted a baby to make me feel whole, that I am enough.

“Losing our embryo taught me that I am whole with or without a baby. I found a level of wholeness in that loss that I had never been forced to find before. The old me shattered and a new whole me was born.

“I know this sounds kind of funny, but G‑d said ‘yes’ to my prayers of holding a baby by Rosh Hashanah. All my prayers were answered ‘yes.’ I’m sure my friends will need help holding their babies on Rosh Hashanah. And then I can conveniently hand them back … ”

“Turn it around again,” my coach challenged.

“I said ‘no’ to G‑d’s prayer? Ouch, I did!

“G‑d’s ‘prayer’ is to be crowned king on Rosh Hashanah. I made my fear and insecurities of not being whole without a baby my king. It became the ruler of my consciousness.

“This year, G‑d, I don’t want to stand on Rosh Hashanah and give you my list and then adore You if You give it to me and despise You if You don’t.

“I want to crown You as king over my consciousness.

“I want to focus on the truth that You said ‘yes’ to so many prayers, even those that were so deep they were never verbalized.

“I want to thank You for those prayers that you said ‘no’ to. You know what would be a blessing in my life and what won't be.

“I will crown You king of my consciousness and focus on Your compassion. How all my friends received ‘yes’ to everything that they need for their soul’s journey.

“Thank You for running a beautiful world. I will crown You as king and work on respecting my friends for all the hard work they do. The holy work they do with their babies.

“I will crown You as king and love myself as I am, a whole, beautiful soul. I will respect my soul and its journey, and not hate the process. I will crown You king over my trauma and fear and ask You to rule over me this year, to heal what needs to be healed.

“Thank You for everything You said ‘yes’ to, and thank You for saying ‘no.’ ”