Today’s revelation followed 14 weeks of intense suffering. Of overwhelming nausea, of debilitating exhaustion, of profound dysfunction. Each morning began with violent retching, followed by a brief respite, then a sweeping return of the age-old curse. The nausea overtook all 100 pounds of me; it flowed through every vein, turning my active, productive self into a useless, needy blob. Often, I couldn’t read, I couldn’t listen, I couldn’t speak to family members who called. Nothing could distract me from the misery that clawed into my being and wouldn’t let go. Sleep was my only refuge. I’d ask Hashem to help me fall asleep so I wouldn’t have to feel the nausea. During low moments, I’d think of the curse in parshas Ki Savo: In the morning you shall say, “If only it were evening!” and in the evening you shall say, “If only it were morning!”

For the past three months, I’d been a hermit. I couldn’t leave the house, I couldn’t attend simchahs; it was too risky. At all times, I needed to be within meters of a shower, a bed, a bathroom. None of this was a surprise. I’d been down this road several times before. Mostly, thank G-d, I’d delivered a healthy child at the end. Cognitively, I was prepared, but when the nausea hit, I’d still find myself punched in the gut, gasping for breath. Each evening, when it came to a head, I willed myself to stay calm — get through this hour, this minute, this second. I comforted myself: It will all be worth it. You are sowing in tears; you will reap with joy. Right now, you are building a world inside you — a pristine soul with infinite value and infinite impact. Hang in there. Hold the line. In this world, nothing valuable comes without pain.

I held the line for 14 weeks — and today, I am left empty-handed. My heart aches and my womb throbs, devoid of life. In my head, I know He has a plan. I know each soul has a unique journey — and this one needed to incubate inside me before returning to its Heavenly place. But right now, all I can feel is grief.

Tomorrow we will light Candle #2. I will try to thank Hashem for His miracles. I will implore Him to give comfort and healing to the thousands of families across Eretz Yisrael whose lights have been extinguished, smothered. I will remind myself that the revealed and the hidden — all are His, and all are good. And I will pray that just as a nation was reborn, a Temple rebuilt, and a people revived, my time will yet come — and another flame will flicker inside me, this one to last and thrive.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 924)