Mayim Rabim

I think I’ll get my proverbial “feet wet” with a mikvah story about a friend, rather than myself. I was still a single girl when a good friend told me this story.

She was in her 30s, after being frum for a number of years. She was married for over three years and had been told by a few infertility specialists that she and her husband could never get pregnant without medical assistance (funny how often you hear that). She had been given a heter to only make bedikahs on the first and last day of counting (I don’t recommend this practice unless you absolutely must). The trick to this is that you must remember to make that last bedikah; if you forget you have to start counting all over again. (Just a technical note, this is a complicated matter and you should consult with a Rov and a Kallah Teacher if you have such a heter/practice and if you experience what happens next.)

So here was my friend who had made only her first bedikah, and she and her husband went “out of town” to help friends who were running a Purim Party at a Jewish Old Age home. She was due to make her last bedikah that day and toivel that evening. As everything Jewish goes, the Purim party started late, ran late and they left back to Brooklyn late. Sure enough, they got stuck in traffic, and between the craziness of the day and the traffic she either forgot or couldn’t make the last bedikah before sunset. She called the Rov who told her, unfortunately because she had not made any bedikahs other than the first, she would have to start all over again – i.e. if she had made even one bedikah in the middle she could have started counting seven again from that middle bedikah. But now she would have to start over again.

Devastated and with great mesiras nefesh, she counted again, feeling that now this was a wasted cycle, and that by the time she got to the mikvah it would be too late to get pregnant. Gam tzu la tova she told herself. This time she made sure to make her bedikah on the last day. She went to the mikvah feeling sad and blue. She bathed and prepared herself for the mikvah. When she was ready she rang the desk, and in a few minutes one of the mikvah ladies came to take her to the mikvah. Now this is a busy mikvah with four or five mikvah ladies that split up the days of the week amongst them – you never know which mikvah lady you will get on any given day. The mikvah lady, who hadn’t seen my friend in some time said, “I haven’t seen you in such a long time! Do you get a mazel tov? Did you have a baby?” Now I’m sure the mikvah lady had the best of intentions, but this just pushed my friend over the edge.

She began to cry and couldn’t stop. She explained that no, she wasn’t pregnant yet. The mikvah lady apologized, but my friend couldn’t stop crying. As she told me, “I couldn’t tell if the water I immersed in was rain water or my own tears.” She toiveled, the mikvah lady apologized again, she got dressed and went home a broken woman.

Of course, I’m sure you figured out by now, that she had a beautiful baby nine months later; a child that has gone on to be a bright star – a smart, funny, and beautiful six year old – and the now the oldest of four with a fifth on the way.

I tell this story not because of the miracle or divine providence in her getting pregnant, but because of her mesiras nefesh to keep halacha and to remind everyone to watch what they say. The mikvah lady in question was oblivious to this person’s situation and made what she thought was a nice comment. It devastated my friend instead. But perhaps that devastation was the teshuva she needed to get pregnant. I don’t know. I just know that if it was me I would have probably hauled off and belted the mikvah lady.