The word “expected” and its opposite, “unexpected,” along with their pregnant meanings, suffused my life for the three-year period between having my son and the long journey of secondary infertility. When my rabbi and I met up for coffee and pastries to discuss congregational matters and to catch up, I didn’t imagine that she would change my perspective on Judaism and fertility treatments. 

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Rabbi Francine and I first met in 2015 when I was in my third trimester. My husband and I had recently joined the newly-formed synagogue-without-walls in our rural mountain community. We were becoming parents for the first time, and as the High Holidays and my due date approached, my body was doing what it was expected to do: completing gestation and delivering a healthy baby. 

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Then the unexpected happened: I couldn’t get pregnant again. 

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With the din of the café swirling around us, I told Rabbi Francine that our doctors diagnosed us with “unexplained secondary infertility” — despite the exhaustive testing, they didn’t know why we weren’t able to conceive again. After years of trying on our own, we decided to see if IUI (intrauterine insemination) would work. Round after round after round, it didn’t. The next step, I explained, would be IVF (in-vitro fertilization). I confessed that I wasn’t too keen on the idea.

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“Maybe God doesn’t want me to have another baby,” I whispered. Despite the closeness of our relationship, I still struggled to voice the heaviness of infertility, still felt afraid to talk about it, even with the noise of the restaurant humming around us. Unexplained secondary infertility was isolating, and I often felt confused, constantly searching what seemed like a black sky for a glimmer of light. Inadequacy weighted my being, constricting my perspective as each month slogged by without a positive test, each doctor visit without an answer.  

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Rabbi Francine blinked away tears and said, “No, no, no.” Then she said something that forever changed how I thought about reproductive technology and the Divine.

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She shared her belief that G-d wants us to be fruitful and multiply — and the doctors and researchers who specialize in infertility and fertility treatment are an expression of the Divine’s desire to promote life. IVF, in her mind, is another divine gift to create healing solutions.

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Her perspective turned my previous notions about IVF and spirituality inside out. I had felt that fertility assistance and G-d were at odds with one another, even though I believed that medical interventions were wholly appropriate and necessary for other diseases, injuries, or traumas. Now, I felt a wave of compassion wash over me. Instead of darkness, a flicker of light illuminated my consciousness. Where I had once felt trapped in the minutia of a body not behaving as expected, fretting over numbers, counts, and levels, this revelation allowed me to return to my whole self, connecting my spiritual needs to what was happening in my body. 

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In vocalizing my spiritual concerns and my longing for another child, and in allowing myself to be open to new ways of thinking, I discovered even more places where Judaism offered a safe landing place for fertility challenges, from insightful prayers to healing guides on infertility. I realized that what I and my husband were going through was nothing new to Judaism — see Sarah and Abraham, for one. 

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While these ancient stories didn’t absolve us of worry, they gave us grounding. 

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My husband and I decided to pursue IVF. Although we knew we’d venture into even more uncharted territory, we no longer felt desperate. I used the prayer guides with each injection, and found prayers that gave me courage during the egg retrieval and embryo implantation procedures. 

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Three years after I felt lost in the wilds of unexplained secondary infertility, I gave birth to a daughter. Her Hebrew name is Dodi, my beloved gift, long-awaited — though she arrived in quite a hurry on a snowy night in December. After my parents received the joyful news, I made sure Rabbi Francine knew about our miracle. I wanted to thank her for her role in sparking our change of heart and setting us alight on this journey.

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At The Well uplifts many approaches to Jewish practice. Our community draws on ancient Jewish wisdom, sometimes adapting longstanding practices to more deeply support the well-being of women and nonbinary people. See this article’s sources below. We believe Torah (sacred teachings) are always unfolding to help answer the needs of the present moment.

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Sources

As You Remembered Sarah, My Jewish Learning

How to Pray Through Infertility, My Jewish Learning

Navigating Infertility: Resources, Reflections, and Rituals, ReformJudaism.org

Yesh Tikva: Supporting Jewish People Facing Infertility, Yesh Tikva

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