When there’s so much pain, the only answer is to turn to Hashem, and ask, and anticipate.

It was our first night in the children’s hospital and we were in a shared hospital room on the neuro ward. My daughter and I. My daughter was only 8-years-old and had an MRI that morning. Our family doctor told us that they found a growth on the scan and we needed to go to the main children’s hospital right away.

It was dark and late…the beginning of winter and the chill outside matched our dark feelings.

I heard a young boy behind the shared curtain ask his grandmother if she believed in G-d. I stopped what I was doing and my breathing became shallow and I was so afraid of what the grandmother would say.

My body froze awaiting her response.

She said, “No.” She doesn’t believe in god.

My heart ached so badly. The poor boy needed a lifeline to grab onto and he was left hopeless.

I cried inside for him. The finality of the no was too great to bear.

As Yidden we have a lifeline and deep connection with Hashem. And I discovered in the pediatric cancer ward that it was our only lifeline. What else did we have to hold onto except Hashem? There really was nothing else.

It was a place of the deepest pain ever, watching little kids in so much pain and the deep sadness in their eyes. It was unbearable to watch the nausea, multiple pricks a day, weakness, MRI’s, and the never ending hours to pass in the cancer ward.

I couldn’t understand how the other people survived watching their children suffer from cancer without having Hashem to hold onto. I couldn’t understand how they got up in the morning.

Everyday, the only way through was by talking to Hashem.

I had my questions–how could He make innocent kids suffer with such unbearable pain? What did they do to deserve this pain? But I knew I wouldn’t understand. It was too big for us humans to understand.

We will never understand.

My daughter made it through many rounds of chemotherapy, ICU stays with an emergency call, radiation for 6 weeks every single day… Such a blur of the deepest pain. There were many memories that I pushed to the back of my mind and are only starting to surface after a few years. Slowly I will process them.

Hashem was very kind and b”H helped my daughter survive. On Tisha B’Av, I can’t help but think that unfortunately I don’t need the 9 days and Tisha B’Av to remind me that we’re missing the Beis Hamikdash. I have daily reminders. My daughter has a lifelong medical condition as a result of the brain tumor and radiation. Everyday she needs medications 3 times a day and daily injections.

There is still so much to process and get through just to make it through the day. My daughter asks daily, “When is Moshiach coming?” Because then she won’t need all the medications and injections.

Please Hashem send Moshiach quickly.

We can’t wait anymore.