Even If They Say Right Is Left
Mrs. Colette Marciano, wife of our friend, R’ Mordechai Marciano of Paris, sent this letter, testimony to the great miracle which saved herself and her baby. Here are her words:
It all began on July 26, 1994. My father had died that year. I had been especially close with my father and found his passing unbearable. It was shortly after his passing, that I found out I was pregnant. Although I was in a terrible state due to his passing, I was afraid to take any sort of medication because of the pregnancy. It was a very difficult pregnancy in general.
I turned to Rabbi David, shlita, a number of times, to ask for a blessing that I get through the pregnancy easily. His heartfelt berachot injected me with a feeling of peace.
During one of my visits to Rabbi David for a berachah, I confided in him, telling him about my fears. In his wisdom, he said, “You should know that pregnancy is not always smooth sailing. A woman suffers during pregnancy and birth. Do not try to find out the gender of the baby. B’ezrat Hashem, you will give birth either on a Wednesday or a Thursday.”
I was mildly surprised at the Rav’s exhortation not to ask the gender of the child. Did the Rav suspect I would be disappointed upon hearing it was a girl, when I very much wanted a boy? But I dismissed this though almost immediately, remembering that during a recent brit, the Rav handed my husband a blue candle, together with his circumcision supplies, and said, “G-d willing, you will soon have a son!”
I had my doubts, but complied with the Rav’s ruling not to ask after the baby’s gender.
Days and weeks passed. During my fifth month, I went for a routine check-up. Before the doctor began performing a sonogram, I stated my wish not to be informed of the gender of the baby. I added that he should keep this knowledge to himself, for one day it might be of importance.
A few days later, on a Monday, as I entered my sixth month, I again entered Rabbi David’s room, asking him to bless me again. As soon as I walked into his room in the yeshiva, after asking how I was feeling, the Rav stated, “Now you may inquire as to the gender of the baby.”
I was utterly taken aback. I informed the Rav that I had visited the gynecologist just recently, and my next appointment was not for another three weeks.
“Make an appointment for this week,” he ordered me. I acquiesced unquestioningly.
As I left his room, I remembered that I could just call the doctor and ask him the information that I had told him to take a mental note of. This would save me the hassle of paying him a visit. But unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, as it would turn out, he told me that he didn’t remember the gender, and I should come in on the following Wednesday.
Wednesday, January 18, 1995, will forever be etched in my memory.
I woke up with terrible migraines. My entire body trembled, my stomach hurt, and I felt horrible. I phoned up my family doctor, Dr. Weber. After an examination, he told me he saw nothing wrong. My blood pressure, too, was fine. He recommended some blood tests, but that was it.
This was the day I was meant to visit my gynecologist in his private practice at the hospital. Because I wasn’t feeling well, my husband accompanied me. As soon as we entered his room, I told him, “Doctor, you know the reason why I came. It is to do another sonogram to find out the gender of the baby. But I woke up today feeling awful.”
My last words worried the good doctor. He began examining me immediately. All seemed fine until he took my blood pressure. It was dangerously high. He repeated it, but got the same results. He forbade me from leaving. I had to be under a doctor’s constant care.
I didn’t know why the blood pressure had him so worried. I really did not want to spend time in the hospital. The next day, my extended family was conducting a seudat Yitro, which I did not want to miss. But the doctor did not relent, insisting that I remain under observation.
Suddenly, with no forewarning, and in a way I cannot explain to this very day, I found myself in the delivery room. The tablet I had been given to lower my blood pressure was ineffective. My blood pressure climbed higher and higher. I began to see stars. Everything gradually faded into obscurity, and I lost consciousness.
My husband was in a panic, and immediately phoned Rabbi David, shlita, in Lyon. The Rav calmed my husband, saying, “I know that your wife is in a serious condition. I will pray for her, and B’ezrat Hashem, in the merit of Rabbi Chaim Pinto, all will be well.”
I was blissfully unaware of the mayhem I had caused. An ambulance was summoned urgently to transfer me from the private hospital to the public one. When I awakened in the second hospital, a gynecologist was standing over me. He told me, “Madame, you suffered an attack of severe toxemia with complications. If this happens again, we will have no choice but to perform a Caesarian.”
I didn’t manage to digest his words, when I fell again into a deep coma. I awoke after three days. I had undergone another attack, and the doctors felt they had to operate in order to save my baby. I found out that I had given birth to a boy on Wednesday, January 18, after twilight. This was according to the Rav’s prediction that I would give birth either on a Wednesday or a Thursday.
I have no recollection of the birth or the following days, as I had been in a deep slumber the entire time. On the fourth day, after I came to, I found out that I had a boy, a preemie weighing only 990 grams!
The baby was rushed to ICU for newborns. Tubes were inserted throughout his little body, keeping him alive. His underdeveloped lungs were cause for concern. He was in a constant battle for his life, and every day that he survived was a miraculous victory.
The doctors were happy that I was no longer in danger. After three more days in the hospital, I was released. But my little bundle remained in the NICU. It wasn’t until three months later that he was discharged, the first night of the Pesach Seder, my original due date.
Looking back, I realize that Rabbi David saw the danger I would encounter. He therefore instructed me not to ask after the baby’s gender, until the danger was imminent. His charge that I find out the baby’s gender on Wednesday, the 18th of January, was merely a ploy to get me to the hospital. I thought I was going to the outpatient clinic, when Hashem was sending me to the inpatient clinic. Be that as it may, I was already under medical supervision when the attacks came, and was able to be treated immediately.
The doctors all agreed that had these attacks occurred outside of the hospital, it was unlikely that I or my baby would have made it.
Six months passed until my baby was strong enough to undergo a brit milah. Rabbi David, shlita, was the sandek, and my son was named Moshe Chai.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank Hashem for the great miracle that He performed on behalf of myself and my baby, saving us from death. I would also like to thank all those who supported me in my difficult trials, especially the wonderful hospital staff who tended to me and my Moshe Chai when he was in the incubator.
My husband, my entire family, and I, wish to bless the Rav with good health and long life. In the merit of his forefathers, he should continue being the spiritual guide of numerous people throughout the world, who have been helped by him and experienced miracles in his merit and the merit of his fathers.
There is no doubt that this woman’s absolute compliance with my words saved her life and the life of her child.
The Torah commands us (Devarim 17:11), “You shall not depart from the word that they will tell you, right or left.” Rashi expounds, “Even if the Torah Sage says to you that the right is the left, and the left is the right.” Even when the tzaddik’s instructions seem illogical, we must comply with their words. Tzaddikim, and those who have the merit of their ancestors, have siyata di’Shemaya to distinguish between what is the true right and left of any given situation.
