Yael Efrati ’01

Posted on April 2, 2024

My name is Yael Efrati, and I am a medical psychologist at Sheba Hospital. I direct a clinic that provides support to hospital staff, and I also have a private practice. I live in the moshav Beit Herut. I am Re’em’s partner, and the mother of Be’eri and Kelil.

Last summer, after a journey of indecision, preparations, and intention, we discovered that I was pregnant for the third time, one year before turning forty. A blessing. But just before announcing the pregnancy, war broke out on October 7th. Evil invaded the homes of our people, and attacked children, babies, and the helpless, without distinguishing among them.

The blessing of the pregnancy became tainted by a curse. The process of gathering myself inward was interrupted. I was pulled outwards — both because I wanted to and because I felt obligated to – in order to take care of, to hold, to heal, to strengthen, and to find the sparks of light in reality, in the present, and in the dark future. At the same time, every once in a while, I reminded myself to take care of the sparks of light growing in my womb.

When I was working in the role of therapist by day, I had super-powers to calm and to regulate emotions, and I felt a sense of meaning. But in the night, difficult questions haunted me: Is this world worthy of new life? So much evil and suffering indicate that there is no reason to come into this world.

In my mind, I constantly struggled to guard the sparks of light, in order to hold on to the purpose of this pregnancy and the continuity of existence, and in order to be an anchor and source of strength for my clients. Yet there were even more difficult questions: What kind of world will my sparks of light come to? Is it possible to be happy, to be excited, to believe in the good, when our brothers and sisters are hostage, underground in Gaza?

Morning and night were an impossible duality of emotions. On the way to work, or beforefalling asleep, a great sadness would grip me, and I would cry hysterically. Yet before andafter that, during the day, I managed to keep a sort of protective layer, for the sake of mywork and my own self-preservation, which enabled me to continue to exist, to breathe, andto hold on to my belief in the good.

I reminded my clients that believing in the good is always an option, even within this sea of uncertainty in which we are swimming. That the story of tomorrow has not yet been written; we are a people that has gotten through a lot of hardship, and we will be capable of getting through this, too. That crisis ultimately has the potential of leading to growth and development. I told them all these things, and I let the words penetrate into my womb.

And the days go by. The first signs of spring are in the air. There is sun, sea, and the flowers of March after the rains. There is a moment of a deep hug filling me up, and the smiles and laughter of children.

The war is not over. The world continues to be bad and good; the world does not decide between them, does not feel a need to give an answer, and maybe does not know what tomorrow will bring. The birth is getting closer, and the sparks of light are growing and ripening like fruits after the rain. I pray for them and for me. Amen.