Four women share how they channeled their pain into a passion to help others

Elana Mizrahi: Birthing Compassion

I was supposed to change the world. As a young teen I already knew I wanted to go into politics. I studied International Law and Politics at Stanford University and in programs abroad in Geneva and Paris.

But I didn’t feel at peace with myself. I kept having a persistent feeling that I wanted to build a family. I remember volunteering at an AIPAC conference when I was 19 years old, becoming Torah observant, and feeling an overwhelming urge to be a mother.

I realized that while globetrotting around the world to enact laws and policies to change the world was indeed a worthy cause, it wouldn’t allow me to be the type of mother I wanted to be. I had to shift gears. It took a lot of courage, but I went to Israel to learn in seminary.

A few years later, I married my husband and we moved to Mexico. After several months of not becoming pregnant, I sensed something was wrong. We visited doctors who confirmed that we had serious fertility issues. That’s when the cycle of treatments, disappointments, hope, and heartbreak started. We decided to come to Eretz Yisrael for two years (we came with just two bags!) and I was sure here I’d become pregnant. But a year passed with no developments. I was completely broken.

We started contemplating the idea that we might never have children. “Hashem,” we said, “if You want us to have a baby we will. If not, then we won’t.” A friend suggested we try alternative treatments. We figured we had nothing to lose. So we changed our diet, took herbs, and did acupuncture and homeopathic treatments. A few months later I was expecting. Was it the herbs? The acupuncture? I don’t know. So many people were davening for us. Who knows what does it?

Our first child was born on Yom Tov. It was a beautiful birth, but I felt alone. My husband was there, of course, davening by my side the entire time, but it wasn’t enough. I needed the physical and emotional hands-on support that only another women could’ve given me. The Hebrew-speaking midwife was very good, but I couldn’t communicate naturally with her because of the language barrier. I felt overwhelmed and unprotected.

A few minutes after giving birth, I turned to my husband and told him, “This is what I want to do — I want to help women!”

The first thing I decided to learn was massage. After mastering massage, I studied reflexology, then trained as a doula. I then studied herbs related to women’s health, and arvigo, fertility, and advanced pregnancy massage. These techniques can be quite effective for optimal uterine function. There is so much a woman can do for her body, and especially her fertility, through diet and therapeutic touch.

I continued building my family while dedicating myself to my newfound mission. I was also working as a bookkeeper online until eight years ago, when I decided to focus exclusively on helping women.

Two years ago, I began studying birth trauma, how to release trauma from the body and how to support women who have experienced it.

When I was going through fertility treatments, I remember feeling like I was just a number, a blood test, a pin cushion. Those memories reinforce my conviction to treat the women I help as neshamos. I always try to bring Hashem into the picture. I also often recommend mainstream fertility treatments depending on the situation. Not every woman is the same and not every treatment works for everyone. It’s a zechus to be a shaliach.

I had a client who came to me for treatment after nine years of infertility treatments including IVF. Within a few months, she was pregnant, and I was also her doula. Being at the birth of a client who I treated for infertility is the biggest simchah. I have so much gratitude to the Ribbono shel Olam for allowing me to help other Jewish women.

Since the first time I became pregnant, I say the same tefillah every day. “Hashem. Please allow me to be a kli to bring Jewish children into the world and to help people connect to you.” After many years of marriage, and bli ayin hara a number of children of my own, I’ve realized I’m not always going to bring Jewish children into the world through my body alone. But while I once thought I’d abandoned my goal of changing the world to build a family, I am changing the world — one baby, one woman at a time.