018 - The Geulah Process: Spiritual Insights After Loss

Copied From A Post I Made During The Recovery Process:

This is not the kind of update I ever thought I’d be writing. But I need to. Both because you’re my family and friends, and because I honestly believe that even the hardest moments can be turned into light.

Two weeks ago, at our prenatal appointment, we found out the baby we were expecting no longer had a heartbeat. After just under 4 months with us, their little soul had already gone back to its Source. A few days later I had the D&C, and since then we’ve been in the thick of healing.

I kept going back and forth about sharing this. But the silence started to feel heavier than words. And if I’ve learned anything these past couple of weeks, it’s that grief gets lighter when it’s carried together.

The last two weeks have been some of the hardest of our lives. Physically, I’ve been recovering. Emotionally… tidal waves. Days when I feel strong, and days I can’t get out of bed. Doniel and the kids have been riding it with me… some days we laugh and go do things and remember that life is still beautiful, and other days we just cry and collapse. And I’ve realized… all of that is normal.

In Chassidus, there’s this idea that every soul comes into the world with a mission. Sometimes it takes decades, a whole lifetime. And sometimes it’s short. Just a few weeks or months in the womb, and that’s enough. From that perspective, our baby’s life wasn’t “unfinished.” They came, they did what they were here to do, and they went back whole. That doesn’t make it easy. But it helps me hold it with a little more purpose, even if I’ll never fully understand it with my human brain.

And at the same time… this has been such a reminder that we don’t control what happens to us. The only thing we really have control over is how we respond. That doesn’t mean bypassing the pain. It means holding pain in one hand and gratitude in the other.

I’ve been noticing signs of life like G-d took a highlighter to them the last few weeks: my kids laughing. The mountains we escaped to for a few days to just be in nature together. The meals and flowers and care baskets and messages from friends… the way our community has held us. The sheer miracle of being alive.

And I want to say something else too, because there are a lot of misconceptions about Geulah… this era we're in of elevating the global consciousness and experiencing radical transformation, which gets commonly translated as 'redemption'.

People think it’s a flip-the-switch moment. But it’s not. It’s a PROCESS.

What we’ve been through the last few weeks is the kind of thing that technically shouldn’t exist in a world of Geulah. And yet the Rebbe taught us that Geulah has already begun… and that we just need to open our eyes to see it. Things like this beg the question of, "How?!"

When the Jewish people left Egypt, it still took 40 years of wandering through the desert… with plenty of things that didn’t feel redemptive at all… before they actually entered the Promised Land. And then another 447 years before they built the Beis Hamikdash. Those years weren’t wasted. They were shaping us, preparing us, getting us ready as a nation for the revelation and holiness we were about to experience in an overwhelmingly tangible yet sustainable way.

It feels like the same thing now. We're in the process of Geulah. And sometimes things still happen that won’t exist once that process is complete. But even in those moments, we get to believe that life is happening FOR us and not TO us. That there are lessons, and shifts, and new perspectives that can only come through challenge.

And this little neshama, in their short time with us, has been one of our greatest teachers. I would never wish this on myself or on anyone else. But I can honestly say we’re grateful for what it’s given us. The perspective. The deep gratitude. The recommitment to life.

Because even in darkness, there’s a way to bring light. Even in loss, there can be transformation. Grief and joy can sit at the same table… and somehow, both can be holy.

This whole thing has stripped away a lot of illusions for me. We don’t know how much time we have. Life is fragile and finite. And also infinitely precious. It’s made me recommit to living fully. To not waiting, not putting things off, not letting fear or “someday” get in the way. To choosing life while I have it.

Don’t wait to say “I love you.”

Don’t wait to notice the sunset.

Don’t wait to forgive. To dream. To start. To live.

If you want to honor this beautiful little dewdrop of a soul with us, the best way I can think of is this: add more good into the world.

Light Shabbos candles this week.

Do something kind for someone.

Call a friend.

Smile at a stranger.

Every act of love ripples outward. And in that ripple, even the shortest life leaves an eternal impact.

We’re still grieving. Still healing. Still figuring it out. But we’re here. We’re grateful. We’re choosing life.

Thank you for being part of our circle. It means more than I can say.

With love and with hope for a fully revealed Geulah now,

Rucheli