A War, a High-Risk Pregnancy, and a Husband on the Front Lines: The Incredible Faith and Resilience of Tal Schmidt

On the Eve of Simchat Torah 5784, while Jewish communities across Israel prepared joyfully for the holiday, Tal Schmidt sat in her home in Shavei Shomron, exhausted and in pain. She had no idea, of course, that a war was about to erupt — just as no one else could have imagined it. But her suffering had a different source entirely.

Tal was in the early stages of her fifth and most challenging pregnancy, suffering from severe hyperemesis gravidarum.
“Hyperemesis, for those who don’t know, is extreme pregnancy-related vomiting,” she explains. “For some women it ends by week 20, but others have a more severe form that lasts the entire pregnancy and causes weight loss, dehydration, and even fainting. I had the most extreme level. I went through nine months of hell —  and I’m not exaggerating.”

She had suffered from hyperemesis in her previous pregnancies as well and had mentally prepared for another difficult journey. What she did not anticipate was that a war would break out at the same time — and that her husband would be drafted into one of the most emotionally demanding and sensitive military roles: commander of casualty transport at the Shura military base, responsible for identifying fallen soldiers and bringing them back to Israeli territory.

“He Looked at Me and Asked, ‘Can I Go?’”

Tal and her husband have been married for fifteen years. She is an emotional therapist and coach; he heads a yeshiva. They never imagined they would face such a pivotal and heartbreaking moment.

“On the morning of Simchat Torah, I was lying in bed after a very difficult night, with an infected IV line in my arm,” she recalls. “I was half-conscious when I heard cars driving outside and my husband’s phone ringing nonstop. I sensed something was happening, but I assumed maybe I had taken too many medications. I mean — this is Simchat Torah. How could cars be driving now?”

Soon her husband came in and briefly explained that war had broken out — that terrorists had infiltrated communities and the situation was serious. He looked at his missed calls and discovered he had received a Tzav 8 emergency order. He needed to leave immediately.

“I was lying there with an IV dripping into my arm. He looked me straight in the eyes and asked, ‘Can I go?’”

The question was real. Tal was officially classified as 100% disabled during this stage of pregnancy and needed constant care. “It’s likely that if he had explained the situation, he would have been exempt,” she says. “We both knew it — and it was clear the decision rested with me.”

“I didn’t think for long. We didn’t yet understand the scale of the massacre, but we knew the country was in crisis. I realized that anyone else could take care of me — my mother, my mother-in-law, even neighbors. But my husband was needed for a national mission. Within minutes, I gave him my blessing, and we said goodbye. Since then, he’s been drafted continuously, coming home late at night — when he can.”

Alone With Hyperemesis — and Fear

“At first my mother-in-law came to help pack bags so I could move in with them. I couldn’t even pack myself because of the infection. We stayed with them for three days. Meanwhile my hyperemesis was horrific — vomiting nonstop, fainting, dehydration, repeated hospitalizations.”

But Shavei Shomron was paralyzed. “All clinics were closed. No medical staff, no paramedics — everyone had been called up for reserve duty. We were at the peak of the war, and I couldn’t even drive myself out of the settlement for treatment. Eventually we moved in with my parents in Petach Tikva for three weeks. When the local frameworks reopened, I returned home with the kids. My sisters-in-law and neighbors cared for me, and my husband came when he could to help.”

“His Soul Was Traumatized”

“My days were mostly spent alone — vomiting, and worrying endlessly about my husband.”

He wasn’t fighting inside Gaza, but he made many trips to the border to transport fallen soldiers — something that terrified her.

“I asked him to promise that he would always tell me before driving to the border, because if he didn’t, I’d assume he was there all the time.”

She also worried for his emotional health. “He’s naturally strong, but no one is strong enough for what he was seeing. When he came home, you could see trauma in his eyes. He barely slept or ate. He functioned mechanically, without joy. Even the things that once brought him life meant nothing.”

One day he attended a resilience workshop with his team. “I was grateful,” she says, “because he desperately needed psychological support.” But the moment the workshop ended, the news broke about the 21 soldiers killed in Gaza. He didn’t come home — he went straight to Shura.

Their communication became sparse. “A typical call was 30 seconds: ‘I can’t talk right now,’ and then disconnection.”

Tal began sending him hundreds of messages — partly for him, partly to cope herself.

“I wrote things like: ‘I’m in a pit’ — meaning a deep hyperemesis episode, and then: ‘But at least if I were in a pit in the army base, I’d be helping someone.’ Or: ‘I can’t eat, but the hostages in tunnels are starving.’ Sometimes joking, sometimes crying.”

After the birth, she counted them: over 300 messages. These notes, along with the emotional insights she gained, became the basis of her book “Elokai Neshamah,” which now supports many women.

No Relief After Birth

If you were expecting a joyful chapter with an easy birth and healing — Tal explains that reality was different.

“We planned the pregnancy, fully aware of the suffering ahead. But we didn’t expect the challenges that came after the birth.”

Her newborn was diagnosed with transient tachypnea of the newborn — rapid breathing requiring NICU care. “It broke us. I couldn’t bear to tell my kids they couldn’t meet the baby. My husband struggled deeply with postponing the brit milah. Then jaundice led to another hospitalization. We were drained.”

At one point she cried out in prayer: “God, don’t You know math? How is it that others have babies effortlessly and live normal lives, while every step for us is full of hardship?”

Then suddenly, clarity: “These are Heaven’s calculations. We can’t understand them. But they are our missions.”

What Gave Her Strength?

“The main thing that kept me going was knowing: we are on a mission. My role was to send my husband to a life-saving military position. I know firsthand that his work dramatically shortens the time it takes to bring soldiers home for burial.”

Regarding her willingness to become pregnant despite the suffering: “Before trying for this baby, I reminded myself: the Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh had no children. I asked myself, ‘Would the Ohr HaChaim agree to vomit for nine months for a child?’ And the answer was — he would vomit for nine years. During the war, that longing to bring more life into the world grew stronger.”

They named the baby Uriah Chaim — after the Ohr HaChaim, and to symbolize the light and life Israel so desperately needs.

Advice to Other Reserve-Duty Wives

Her final message is warm and deeply practical: “If your husband is away for long periods, and you’re alone with the kids and endless responsibilities — be gentle with yourself. Strengthen yourself.

“He didn’t buy you a holiday gift? Don’t complain — go buy yourself a perfume or something that lifts you. He can’t help clean the house? Treat yourself to a cleaning lady and step outside for fresh air.

“Think what would make you feel good. When you care for yourself, you will naturally feel stronger.

“And you will see — your relationship will grow stronger too. When you give him the space he needs for his mission, and he gives you the space you need, you become an unbreakable couple.”