Clinging to the Rock

As told to me by Rachel Welfeld. As you read her account, please hear it in her playful, easy voice. Please see her smile and the light on her face. Read it with an open heart to life.

 

I was walking on the beach with my mother-in-law. My feet kicked the sand as her words joined the sound of the waves crashing in my ears. “You have to ask Hashem with your full heart. You have to dare to hope completely.”

 

It had been nearly a decade and a half of infertility. I had finally gotten pregnant and then lost the baby. It was time to try again and I was scared.

 

“My darling, here’s how it works. When you want something very badly you have to remove all the walls you put around your heart to protect yourself. Then, in the simple rawness of your open heart you hope and you believe that Hashem can and will send you this very thing. At the same time, you also have to be willing to endure the suffering if He doesn’t.”

 

We walked a bit more, the breeze moved all around me. The sun shone brightly down. On that quiet sandy beach, I was a walking storm of emotions; Wishing, resisting, knowing she was right but so frightened of being disappointed again.

 

Soon I was ahead of her, alone with my thoughts. “Could I really open my heart and ask for a baby? Would Hashem hear me? Was it worth the pain if I did not get what I wanted?”

 

Time stood still and I said to Hashem “Hashem, You know what I need, You know how hard this is for me. It is just me and You. I’m going to pick up a rock. If on that rock there is an image of a baby in her mother’s belly, I will open up. If you answer me I will tell everyone about it and what you did for me.”

 

I bent down and picked up a rock. I opened my hand and looked. It was white. It was plain. There was nothing on it. I sighed and threw it back down.

 

As it landed by my feet it flipped over and I gasped. On the bottom of the rock was an exact image of the 6-week ultrasound of the baby I had lost. Etched in the lines of the rock was the baby’s head and its curved peanut shaped body all encased in a loving curved line. Clutching the rock, I knew Hashem had heard me. He wanted me to know He was right there. I knew I would get pregnant.

 

The rock came home with me and I carried it everywhere. I showed it to everyone I knew. The resemblance to the ultrasound was so clear that one friend thought that the ultrasound was a photograph of the rock! The rock became my symbol of hope and connection to Hashem.

 

I went through another round of treatments. Soon there was a baby growing in my belly. My heart was full of joy. I moved with the knowledge that life was within me. I no longer needed the rock and I lost track of it. Rosh Hashanah came, Yom Kippur came, and I was filled with gratitude at every prayer.

 

On the eve of Sukkot, the call came from the Doctor. “Something is wrong, we are looking at the tests now and we are not sure that your baby is going to make it.”

 

Everything within me got quiet. From the corner of my eye I saw the sukkah. I saw her joyous walls and I made a decision.

 

I chose to be happy.

 

If this baby was going to grow inside of me I didn’t want it to grow in an atmosphere of sadness.

 

And if it was not going to make it, then it only had short amount of time on this earth to fulfill the tikkun (soul correction) that it came to me for. I would not make those days sad.

 

So I sat in the sukkah and I breathed in joy. I breathed in light. I breathed in gratitude. I sat and I breathed and I breathed and I sat.

 

One day, sitting in the sukkah, I knew the baby left me. The doctor confirmed it. There was no heartbeat. The baby was gone.

 

The second I heard the news I went running to look for my rock. Where was it? I tore apart my room. I searched everywhere. I was in a panic. I needed my rock and it was lost!

 

In my frenzy I slid my hands under my night table. I felt it. My fingers curled around it and I sobbed and sobbed.

 

I moved my mattress into the sukkah. I needed her walls. My heartache needed her divine comfort. Curled up on the floor, my little nieces and nephews surrounded me. “What’s the matter, Aunt Rachy? Did you lose your rock?” For days these little children tended to me, bringing me love and comfort as I rocked and cried. They didn’t leave my side.

 

When Sukkot was over and they left, I missed them so much. It was so painful.  I loved those children with all my heart even though I didn’t give birth to them.

 

Awareness spread through me. The fog lifted and I was clear. Hashem would answer my prayers the way that He knew I needed. I opened to Hashem’s plan exactly as He wanted it. It wouldn’t happen through pregnancy. It was time to adopt a baby.

 

The salvation comes from unexpected places. We can’t control how Hashem answers us. But He always hears us and will send us exactly what we need.  

 

It was a process that took some time. We filed the paperwork. Nine months after we sent it in, we got a call that our beautiful baby boy had been born and was waiting for us. We named him Matan Nachliel Lev Zion, A Gift of G-d’s Heritage – Heart of Zion. He is the light of our lives.

 

 

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Following a near death experience, I’m on a mission to help every woman discover G-d’s unconditional love for her (Including myself!). My work as a Transformation Coach was born out of my own transformation – a time when I literally needed to decompose and become something new.  Through this pain I received gifts that I always wanted but always felt short of: Emunah, self-love, boundaries, deep, meaningful healthy friendships, forgiveness and a wellspring of joy.  I call it Redemption – and I want it for every single person I meet.

Join me for coaching, live events and courses and find your own Redemption.