Many of us have felt, at some point in our lives, that we’ve hit a dead end.

A raging sea in front of us; a bloodthirsty army behind us.

Murderous enemies surrounding our tiny country on all sides.

No way out.

Then comes the pivotal moment. How do you respond? Despair. Desperation. Defiance, refusing to give up. A decision: I will take my one small human step and let Hashem do the rest.

And then, the sea splits.

Only Hashem can make a miracle. But it is that moment before the miracle happens that turns us into heroes. Sometimes, the way we react when we’re up against a wall ends up becoming the defining moment of our lives.

The personal fertility journeys shared in two recent PUAH webinars highlighted this power that forged us at the dawn of our nationhood and that continues to propel us forward in our determination to ensure Jewish continuity.

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Tikvah* was in her mid-30s and still single when a married friend sensitively raised the topic of fertility preservation.

Egg freezing was new at the time—the cryopreservation technique currently used had only recently been approved by the FDA—and Tikvah shrugged off the suggestion.

But a year later, after yet another dating relationship had ended, Tikvah decided to do some research into fertility preservation. She attended a PUAH awareness event and subsequently went to meet with a doctor at a fertility clinic to learn about the process.

The decision was agonizing, unexpectedly so. It wasn’t just the physical discomfort or the significant financial outlay; the true hurdle, she realized, was emotional. Freezing her eggs meant admitting to herself that she was stuck in a place she had never imagined for herself. She was supposed to be married with a family right now, so having to confront the reality of being single in her upper 30s and face the prospect that she would soon be too old to have children was terrifying.

But the more she learned about the technology, the more she realized that she needed to do this. For her future. For the sake of the family she still hoped to have. So she decided to confront her fears and step forward into those unknown waters.

And then the sea split. After so many years and tears, Tikvah met her husband and got married at the age of 40. A year later, when she still wasn’t pregnant, she knew it was time. The eggs she had frozen several years earlier, in an expression of hope and belief in her future, were now called upon to do their job. The same fertility clinic and the PUAH counselors who had supported her through her egg retrieval were now there to guide her through the IVF process.

Thanks to her courageous step back then, today, she has two beautiful young daughters.

Every baby born represents not just the continuity of the parents, but of the entire Jewish nation. Particularly in these times, when Jews throughout the world find themselves isolated and hated like never before, there is no more powerful statement of our hope and resilience as a nation than to bring another baby into the world. This is why Tikvah finds it particularly meaningful that on Oct. 7, 2023, she was pregnant with her second baby.

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As a baalas teshuvah who became religious at the age of 30, Miriam* jokes that she was over the hill in the shidduch scene before she even started. Still, she never expected her single years to drag on as long as they did. When five, eight, 10 years went by and she still hadn’t met her bashert, she began to struggle with feelings of betrayal towards Hashem. She’d given up a successful secular life and career in order to become frum; why wasn’t He giving her the one thing she wanted so badly?

It was a dark and painful place to be. She felt cut off not just from the family life that she wanted but from the very source of life.

Finally, she reached her breaking point. One day, she sat herself down and asked herself why, if she trusted Hashem in every other aspect of her life, she was having so much trouble trusting that He wanted the best for her in the area of marriage as well. Digging deep inside herself, she made a startling discovery. The real feeling underlying her anger was a personal sense of failure – that if she was 44 years old and unmarried, to her, that meant she was a failure.

Crying, she declared, “I’m worthy and loveable without marriage! Hashem, I want to be married, but if this is what You want for me, then I’ll do my best to accept it.” She succeeded in entering a place of absolute surrender to Hashem’s Will.

The very next day, she met her husband. Her sea had split.

But her work surrendering herself to God was not yet over; it would be six more long years until she gave birth to a baby – using an egg she had frozen back when she was37.

It was through PUAH that she was exposed to the concept of fertility preservation. Like Tikvah, she found it an emotionally difficult process, but it was also liberating. It eliminated the ticking-biological-clock pressure in dating. She felt strongly that this was the hishtadlus she needed to do, and then she could let go and leave it in Hashem’s hands.

As it turned out, from the few eggs she had frozen, only one viable embryo emerged – but that was all Hashem needed.

Recently, at the age of 50, she gave birth to a beautiful baby.

As we come into Pesach more aware than ever that, as we face our individual and national challenges, we have only Hashem to rely on, may we all be zoche to experience the sea-splitting miracles that bring our ultimate Geulah.