I never imagined becoming a mother happening the way it did. But today, as I hold my beautiful baby, I know he is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Every mother probably feels that way, but for me, the journey to this moment was filled with obstacles I never expected.
I want to take a moment to share where my life was when I first learned I was pregnant. At the time, I was living in a sober living house, trying to recover from an addiction that had consumed me for too long. I was far from my family, my closest friends, and any kind of real support system. The father of my baby was already out of the picture. And when I saw the pregnancy test turn positive, my heart dropped. Fear, uncertainty, and panic took over.
I knew I didn’t want an abortion—I had even taken Plan B, but for whatever reason, it didn’t work. And at that moment, I realized that something bigger than me had decided this baby was meant to be here. But I had no idea how I was going to make it work.
Jewish, Pregnant, Single: Searching for Help in the Dark
I grew up in a religious home, though I had drifted from that path over the years. My family, however, was still deeply committed to their faith. In their eyes, having a baby outside of marriage was unthinkable—worse than my past struggles, worse than anything else I had done. I felt like I had nowhere to turn.
Before I found SHIFRA, I thought my only option was to move into a homeless shelter for pregnant women. I spent nights searching online only to find Christian-based shelters, knowing that I couldn’t stay in my sober living home with a baby. But nothing felt right.
One night, overwhelmed and desperate, I typed into Google: “Jewish, pregnant, single, help.” It wasn’t even a search—it was a prayer.
I had no idea what to expect. But then, I came across an article by a woman who had been in my exact situation—pregnant, Jewish, alone—and she had found support through an organization called SHIFRA. I clicked through, my heart pounding, and the tears started flowing as I read.
I didn’t know if this was real or if it would actually help. But there was a phone number to text, so I did. It was late at night—10, maybe 11 PM—and within minutes, I got a response. The next day, I spoke with a counselor.
A Light in the Darkness
That first conversation changed everything. I was overwhelmed, scared, and unsure of what to expect, but the woman on the other end reassured me: We understand. We are here for you. You are not alone.
From that moment on, SHIFRA became my lifeline. I was connected with a counselor named Fran, who walked with me through every step of my journey—telling my family, moving back home, navigating my pregnancy, and healing from past wounds that had weighed me down for so long.
SHIFRA didn’t just give me advice. They gave me real, tangible support. They helped me get essentials like diapers, wipes, and baby clothes during my son’s first year when I couldn’t work. But more than that, they gave me hope. They gave me a community. They helped me believe that I could do this.
A Life Transformed
Today, I am sober. I am working. My relationships with my family and my community have been restored. Most importantly, I am a mother.
I often wonder where I would be if I hadn’t found SHIFRA that night. Would I have ended up in a homeless shelter? Would I have drifted further from my family? Would I have been able to give my son the life he deserves? I don’t know. But I knew that SHIFRA was there when I had nowhere else to turn.
I have searched, and I have not found another Jewish organization in the U.S. that does what SHIFRA does. They fill a gap that desperately needs to be filled. And to those who support SHIFRA, please know that your generosity changes lives—mine and my son’s included.
To anyone reading this who feels alone, afraid, or uncertain of what to do next, You are not alone. Others have walked this path before you. And I promise, even when it feels impossible or terrifying, this journey can be beautiful.
If you need someone to listen, SHIFRA is here. Text (646) 632-8547 or call (888) 360-5872 to speak with a counselor. There is hope and support, and you are never alone.
