My Story 14

It has been said that one who remarries after a divorce is putting hope before experience. I am certainly glad that I didn't heed that advice. I began looking for the right person to marry shortly after my divorce. It was more difficult than the first time around, as marrying a divorced person is seen as risky. Way back, when I was in Bnei Akiva, a young man invited me to spend Shabbat at his home. He had a seven-year-old kid sister, who announced that she would marry me someday. I was fourteen, and everyone had a good laugh about this. Well, I never married her. But when she had grown up, she married a man who was part of the Rabbi Avigdor Miller community in Flatbush, Brooklyn. It was a Yeshivish community, but dedicated to spreading Torah to all Jews. One Shabbat, Sima was a guest in her home. Sima had only recently become observant. She was always a great communicator, as well as being extremely personable. My friend's sister said to her: "Hey, you like to talk a lot. I know a "boy" who likes to talk a lot. Wanna meet him?" And so it happened. On our first date, she wanted to hear what it meant that I was a Breslover (almost unknown in the U.S. at that time). We spent several hours over a kosher Chinese dinner discussing our beliefs. We were both enthralled by the end of the evening. She liked what I had to say, as well as how I said it. I was extremely impressed by her penetrating questions, and her thoughtful responses. She would later tell me that I was the first person who had ever asked her for her opinions, and took them seriously. (This is a very sad commentary on our society).We were both "sold" after the first date. However, I presented her with a copy of Tikkun HaKlali; Rabbi Nachman's "general remedy" for all sins, consisting of ten psalms. Unfortunately, that particular edition said on the cover "to repair a nocturnal seminal emission". She showed the booklet to a rabbi she knew in that community, who immediately concluded that I wasn't normal, and to be very careful. Everyone she knew, friends and family, were opposed to our relationship. (No one thought to ask me about why I had given her a Tikkun Haklali). We became engaged after three weeks. My friends and family were thrilled, but her's were in mourning. Up until an hour before the wedding, people were trying to dissuade her. A divorced man? A member of an unknown cult? This will not work! Sima cried to me on our wedding day "I don't feel like a kallah!" (bride). But we got married despite the protests. It may be too soon to make long term predictions, but, if the last forty five years are any indication, we both think it will work. Sima was thrilled with the changes in her life. She not only had a loving husband, but, as a rebbetzin, she was meeting new people, who loved her immediately. I had right away seen her immense kindness, empathy, sensitivity, besides her inner and outer beauty. How sad that in all her twenty-five years, she had never gotten that message, not even from her parents, who doted on her older brother.. We began a long honeymoon, which is still in progress. We did, however, come dangerously close to a break up. As soon as she accepted my proposal, I suggested that we tell each other all of our darkest secrets, to see if we still wanted to go through with it. She told me, with some trepidation, that she may never be able to have children. At the age of fourteen, she developed a very bad case of acne. She was treated with massive doses of steroids and antibiotics, which did nothing for the condition (honestly, I hadn't noticed), but did eliminate her menstrual cycle. I said "let's get married. Whatever G-d wants, He"ll do." A few months after we were married, Sima's maternal instincts began to kick in. She went to see New York's top fertility expert. His diagnosis was devastating. "Your hormones are totally off. There is no chance of you having a child. However, there is a new experimental hormone treatment. You, if you wish, can be in the study. But be warned, the chances of dying are greater than the chance of becoming pregnant". (These treatments are now perfected and are routine). Sima told me she wanted to take the risk. I refused. But every time one of our friends had a baby, she would fall into a deep depression. "Jeffrey, I love you, and I realize that this isn't your "fault". I realize this isn't rational, but either let me join the experimental study, or I want a divorce. I just can't stay married knowing that I will never have kids". I could hardly believe what I was hearing. But on some level, I had to respect that feeling. I had a suggestion. I had heard of a little-known Tzaddik in Jerusalem, named Rabbi Eliyahu Chaim Rosen. I would take vacation. We would go to Israel, and consult with him about the treatments. Sima agreed. We flew to Israel, praying at many holy places. We finally went to Reb Eliyahu Chaim, coming to his modest, run-down apartment in the marketplace of Meah Shearim. We told him our story. ""Chas VeShalom! (G-d forbid). the doctors are murderers! Besides, you don't need it! You will have children! Rabbi Nachman said "Prayer, the Land of Israel, and Miracles are one level". You've been to the Land of Israel, you've prayed. Now will be the miracle". He did advise us to read together the stories of Rabbi Nachman. (Rabbi Nachman had said "The world says that you don't get pregnant from stories. From mine you do.") Exactly two weeks later, Sima got a normal period, for the first time in a decade. It happened again a month later, and then stopped. Then she began to feel sick. Our son, Nachman, was born nine months afterwards. At the delivery, the obstetrician handed the baby to the nurse to be weighed. The doctor said: "If you want to call it a miracle, I will agree with that. But miracles are one in a million. Don't even dream that you will have more children." At that moment, the nurse said "Weight...six thirteen" (Six pounds, thirteen ounces. But 613 is the number of commandments). We both began to laugh. The doctor asked the reason for our laughter. When I explained the reason, he said "You"ll soon have me believing this stuff!" We went on to have six more miracle babies. Each was conceived while still nursing the previous child. The subject of divorce never came up again, and our marriage was, Baruch HaShem, on solid ground.