
My husband ran the marathon that year and finished four minutes before the bombs went off. I had been standing in front of where the first bomb went off. For twenty minutes I could not find him, the longest twenty minutes of my life.
That night when we finally were able to go home, I told my husband, “this was one of the hardest and worst days of my life.” Little did I know that the days that followed would be much worse.
I was a few months pregnant at the time of the bombings. I found out the next day that I had lost the pregnancy. I was in the hospital the Friday that they found Dzhokar Tsarnaev in a boat in Watertown. As I drove to the hospital that day, I passed FBI and police along the way. Nothing, not even the lockdown could stop me from trying to move on. I hoped that the pain of this loss would wash away after I left the hospital.
Friends, family, even my own thoughts were telling me to go to the mikveh. I couldn’t; I could not imagine washing away the pain and finding comfort in the water. The mikveh had always been a positive place of peace and tranquility for me. Months before, I stood in the water with tears in my eyes as I prayed to God to grant me the blessing of pregnancy and children. I was not ready to change the meaning of the mikveh for me forever. I did not want to “taint” it with my pain, suffering and loss.
I suffered emotionally and physically for a while. I realized that time was not making the pain go away. I needed a transitional experience. I needed the mikveh. My husband and I went together, and I asked him to come in the mikveh room with me, but not in the water. With the guidance of Mayyim Hayyim's immersion ceremony, "Mourning a Miscarriage," I once again was crying in the healing waters. This time, I was not praying to God to bless me with pregnancy, but rather, to bless me with the strength to pick up the broken pieces of my very being. As I stood in the water I felt indescribable pain as my tears hit the water. At the same time I felt I had finally given myself the space to really mourn my loss. I was broken, and would always have a few cracks as a result of this experience. The mikveh reminded me that I was not shattered, but rather would become a new version of my whole self. It would just take time and a lot of support.

Rabbi Danielle Eskow is the co-founder of OnlineJewishLearning.com, a program which focuses on providing high quality and accessible online personalized instruction across the world to affiliated and unaffiliated Jewish individuals. Danielle graduated from The Jewish Theological Seminary in 2013 with a MA in Scriptural Interpretation. She lives in Brookline with her husband, daughter, and pug.
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