Birth in a Time of War Strength, Resilience, and Hidden Light

The night America bombed Iran I was busy working a 12-hour shift at Shaare Tzedek Medical Center. What I witnessed that night stayed with me, and I knew I needed to put it into words.

This was my first time working in the newly relocated Labor and Delivery ward, which had been moved to a fortified space on the second floor after the tragic bombing of Soroka Hospital just days earlier. The contrast was stark. Our original ward on the 9th floor had 22 modern birth suites—including a waterbirth room. Now, we were functioning in one large, makeshift room with curtained-off cubicles for up to 13 laboring women. The space was divided into two sections, each serving up to seven women at a time. Supplies were limited to the basics—monitors, gloves, essentials—and had to be carefully organized in advance. Each woman was permitted just one support person by her side.

The setting was humble. But the spirit? Unbreakable.

I’ve spent 18 years working in Israel’s hospital system, in both Mother/Baby and Labor & Delivery units. And I can honestly say: this was one of the most profound and unforgettable shifts of my career.

That night, I had the honor of delivering three babies. Each birth was its own sacred story of strength and hope.

One mother came to Shaare Tzedek for her second birth, after feeling unsupported during her first at a different hospital. Her husband arrived straight from miluim (reserve duty) to be by her side. The birth was smooth and radiant. She told me later they planned to name their baby Lavie.

Another woman chose our hospital because, in her words, “Shaare Tzedek is the only place I feel safe.” She couldn’t stop thanking the staff. Her birth, like the others that night, was calm, joyful, and filled with grace. She held her baby skin-to-skin immediately—no separation, just connection.

One story that still echoes in my heart was of a woman giving birth to her first child with her new husband—each of them entering a second marriage. She had been widowed at 29, left to raise five children alone. Her husband, too, had five children from his previous marriage. The layers of resilience in the room were palpable. She labored with such quiet strength and regal presence that I was left in awe.

Despite the cramped conditions and the tension of the national moment, the ward felt calm, focused, and even uplifted. Epidurals were administered quickly, the women were treated with dignity, and each one left feeling honored and empowered.

At around 3:30 a.m., when we heard the U.S. had bombed Iran, the feeling of "ציפית לישועה" (yearning for redemption) deepened.

By morning, we were physically exhausted—but emotionally charged. I was ready to head home, rest, and return for another overnight shift. But as we prepared to leave the sirens blared for the first time that night, and we were delayed in the shelter another full hour. 

In the middle wide uncertainty, new life entered the world.

There is something deeply purim- like about this time.

On Purim, the miracle was hidden within ordinary events. Unfolded quietly, behind the scenes, until suddenly there was a turning- ונהפוך הוא. What seemed dark carried within it seeds of redemtion.

In the delivery room, we see this again and again.

Outside, there may be sirens.

Inside, there is breath.

Outside, uncertainty.

Inside, focus and strength.

Women labor with courage that does not always announce itself loudly- but it is there. Steady. Determined. Transformative.

Pregnanacy and birth do not pause for war. And perhaps that is part of our national strength. Even in cramped spaces, in fortified wars, and life is interrupted by sirens- life continues.

And life insists on hope.

To The women of Israel

If you are pregnant or newly postpartum in these days of uncertainty, please know: you re not alone!

These times require more than medical checkups. They require reassurance, accessibility, a place to process what you are carrying- emotionally and physically.

At MyMiyaledet, we believe continuity of care matters even more during times like this.

You deserve:

Direct access to your midwife

Time to ask questions

Emotional support alongside clinical guidance

A steady presence when the world feels unsteady

On Purim we celebrate hidden strength in times of unexpected reversals.

May this season remind us that even in complicated times, there is resilience within us- and new beginnings waiting to unfold.

Whatever tomorrow holds, you don’t have to walk through it alone.

We are here- with you and for you.

Reena Grant CNM, MA and Dena Weinstein CNM, MSN

MyMiyaledet Prenatal Clinic

Written by Reena Grant of MyMiyaledet.