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Book Excerpt from More Special Deliveries

More Special Deliveries: Jewish Birth Stories of Faith and Inspiration Edited by Sarah Goldstein Fascinating, true-life Jewish birth stories that will move and amaze you from the sensitive, insightful & humorous "Special Deliveries" Jewish book series. Buy More Special Deliveries at a special online price at www.targum.com

My Brother’s Wedding

Penina Lerner

Ten years of waiting, ten frustrating years of looking for “Mrs. Right.” One broken engagement and dozens of shidduchim. And now, three years after my wedding, he had found her. Malka was twelve years old when my big brother, Moshe, had started going out. I suppose she was still jumping rope; he just had to wait.

Now, with the volcanic day a short two months away, the plans were being made quickly. The joy and excitement in our family, and in theirs, knew no bounds, especially since Malka’s sister had married Moshe’s best friend.

And I was anticipating the birth of my second child, due to make an appearance the same week. With a tefillah in my mouth from morning till night, I pleaded with Hashem to make sure I was at Moshe’s chuppah.

I was crazy about Moshe’s wife-to-be, so I was thrilled to help her plan this wedding. As the big day approached, my pounding heart and whirling thoughts kept me from sleeping as the “to do” list on my nightstand kept growing. The nervousness and excitement I had felt before my own wedding resurged during those two months.

Now, two days before my given due date, I was dressing in an aquamarine, maternity, sister-of-the bride gown. (It’s incredible what you can buy or rent these days.) Looking regal and feeling so happy, I had made it to my brother’s wedding day without a sign of labor - until now. As I closed the last snap on my gown, I felt it; that unmistakable pull of a contracting uterus.

No, no, no, Hashem, I thought. I’ve been good for two months - davened, gave extra tzedakah, baked challah. All I asked for in return is to be at Moshe’s chuppah.

Ten minutes later, another tug. Maybe this wasn’t labor. I straightened my sheitel, fixed my makeup, and there it was, another unmistakable cramp.

The photographer was on his way. We had to be at the hall in half an hour. We ordered a taxi. When we arrived in the hall, I let my mom in on my secret. However, I was there! I was at the hall! Solidifying family memories, the photographer called out, “Smile.”

“One second,” I said, pretending to adjust the band on my umpire-style dress. Actually, I was breathing through a contraction, the type one gets as things are getting a bit more real. For my sake, the sometimes tedious and drawn-out picture-snapping before the chuppah was rushed a bit.

As we moved through more of the protocol, I talked to Hashem once again. I love my brother. We’ve waited for years. Please let me be at the chuppah.

As the crowd began to assemble to escort Moshe to the badeken, I breathed slowly and deeply. Walking with the rest of the women down to the chuppah, I thought, Please don’t let my waters open, and then, May they be blessed with a fulfilled life.

The last blessing pronounced, I located my husband, softly screaming, “We have to go now!” We sped to the hospital, located just five minutes away.

Changing from one gown to another, I pushed out our little son ten minutes after arriving. I had made Moshe’s chuppah!

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