We are ma’aminim bnei ma’aminim, and we know that it’s really Hashem Who pulls the strings

IT

was an ordinary Sunday, 15 Teves 5779, when we received the gift called Alta. It had been six years since our first child had been born, and now we found ourselves in St. Mary’s Hospital in Manchester, England, hoping desperately that this time we would return home with a baby. Then the doctor came out to me with an inscrutable expression and gave me the bad news. “You have a baby who is alive, but she isn’t breathing on her own and she will not live, Mr. Fixsler. Get used to the idea, and update your wife.”

I stood there in the cold corridor, alone, and I burst into tears. But I didn’t have much time to cry, because I had to break the news to my wife. Before I could do that though, I was called for a meeting with some of the senior doctors, who explained to me how serious the situation was. They didn’t even give me time to absorb what was happening. They just wanted me to agree to disconnect the life-support machines, because as far as they were concerned, it was a waste of our time.

I very gently shared the news with my wife. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Avremy, promise me that you won’t give up on the baby. Promise me that we’ll take her home at any cost and in any situation, because that is what I want. This is my child.” This is the strength of a Jewish mother.