Tens Years Since… 💔
Jan 28, 2026
This Shabbos marked ten years since the loss of my 23-weeks-and-6-days-old fetus, Chaviva. 
At the time, A TIME- an incredible organization for all fertility challenges - encouraged us to give her a name, as a way to stay connected and to be able to daven for her by name. Being able to hold onto the idea that this was all for a reason, along with learning about gilgulim and listening to other deeply helpful shiurim, carried me through a very challenging period.
(I once heard Chani Juravel suggest saying Elokai Neshama… from the perspective of just having experienced a miscarriage. To this day, that thought sticks with me in davening.)
I remember investing so much time and emotional energy choosing her name together with Husband. In retrospect, it was therapeutic for me. Neshama. Emunah. So many options. We ultimately chose Chaviva—because she was already loved. Our family was SO excited for a baby!
At the time, a Rav told Husband that losses like these often affect women far more intensely than men, and that he should understand that (translation: put up with me and my hormones until further notice). I couldn’t grasp how Husband didn’t experience this as the same kind of loss of life and potential that I did. I truly felt like I had lost a child—ish.
Healing came in the days and weeks following the birth- a birth where the only cries you hear are those of the mother and father, while the baby is silent. One of the most eerie moments of my life, overflowing with emotion.
(Sorry if I’m being heavy! This is me trying to keep it light actually…!)
Our stillborn—as the hospital calls it—came after two earlier miscarriages. Which means I was pregnant for over 86 weeks by the time my next baby was born. You can imagine how amazing I felt…and looked. 
… Thank You Hashem!
The healing happened because of the family and friends who surrounded us with support. Lunches were dropped off. Small notes and gifts just appeared. Tefillos were said. Messages came in from people who had been there themselves. All of it mattered more than I ever would have imagined. I felt like it wasn’t just in my head, it was actually traumatic.
It’s been ten years. And you know what? I still think about Chaviva! And I think about that winter break that began just days after the loss, and how empty it felt—even while surrounded by my other children. That kind of emptiness you wake up to and wonder if it really happened. And then feel the punch all over again.
Looking back, it was a family-wide social and emotional experience. (Not just bec I’m a therapist!) Each child was told in a different way depending on their age. Some cried more than others. I remember wanting to protect them from the sadness—and even more so, them wanting to protect me. It hurt me to see them sad, and it hurt them to see me cry.
With open communication, tons of support from Husband, family, and friends—and therapy when needed— I’d like to announce: time really does heal. 
It’s been ten years. And recently, Husband asked me if I’m still thinking about Menucha.
Menucha!!!!!
“Wait, Did you really just call her Menucha?!”
He did. For real.
I burst out laughing.
I guess the Rav was right after all—these losses really are different for men and women.
,
Shifi
