"We Look Like A Regular Family, But No One Knows What Lies Behind"

"I am Hodaya Bauer, residing in Efrat in Gush Etzion, married and mother to three sweet children," this simple sentence with which Hodaya opens our conversation, soon turns out to be more complex than conceivable.

"Anyone who doesn't know us would be sure we're a young couple with three little ones, but the truth is, we've been married for eleven and a half years," she reveals. "Our eldest daughter, who is three, we are raising in foster care, and after her, we have six-month-old twins born via surrogacy, of course, according to Jewish law, with consultation throughout with the Puah Institute. We are a family that chooses to be happy, and honestly, even before the children arrived, we chose happiness, but the journey we've been through wasn't simple at all."

Hodaya reflects for a moment. "Our lives never went as planned," she notes, "We thought one thing, and in the end, something different happened. Sometimes, later, we understood that this was probably the most correct and precise for us and our family. No one in the world can plan their life, but for us, it was clear from the start that nothing was in our hands, everything is just from Hashem."

Processing and Waiting

The journey that Hodaya and her husband took to embrace children of their own started in their teenage years when both faced cancer. "I was a 13-year-old girl, and it was already being discussed that later I would need intervention during the fertility period. But it didn't concern me," she says, "because at that age, I wasn't thinking about building a home and having children. After I met my husband and we realized our journey to have children would be complex, fears arose, but we believed Hashem would help us. We never imagined it would be eleven years before we would have biological children, and it's good we didn't know how long the journey would be, that our children would eventually arrive via surrogacy, and we note that we had an amazing surrogate. We didn't imagine that at the stage we are today, we would have only three children, but as I said—you can never plan."

They started fertility treatments a year after their wedding, and they decided then that treatments wouldn't become the focus of their lives. "It was important to us that our whole day didn't revolve around the treatments and that they wouldn't define us," Hodaya explains. "Those days we were optimistic and tried very hard to see the good—we were glad we had a whole year before the treatments to build our relationship and invest in our home. We also saw the advantage that unlike other challenged couples who take time before understanding exactly what their problem is and how to treat it, with us, it was clear from the start. Even the treatments didn't really threaten us, as the hospital was a familiar place. We both had hospitalizations at a young age in the oncology ward and knew what treatments and tests were, so we managed to go with the flow and take it all in good spirits."

And yet, it must not have been easy...

"Of course, nothing was easy. For three years, we swung between great hope and despair turning into massive disappointment. I am the eldest at home and during those days my younger siblings got married and had children, also in my husband's family a new grandchild was added every year, only we stayed in our cozy but empty and lonely nest. Back then we lived in a caravan in a small settlement, where every family that grew beyond three children would leave to live in a proper house. Only we stayed in our caravan—year after year... "

But according to her, the real hardship came after three years of treatments, when she was diagnosed again with cancer. "I went to war for my life," she describes, "For a little more than a year, I battled the disease, with my husband supporting me unconditionally and helping me through this period with a lot of strength and faith. The family and community embraced and helped a lot. In the end, the doctors announced I was healthy, but they also clarified that while we had frozen embryos, we wouldn't be able to return to treatments again, and even if we opted for surrogacy, we'd have to wait five years since I was post-cancer."

How did you feel about this news?

"The truth is, it felt very dark," admits Hodaya. "I remember the next morning when we woke up and suddenly realized that for the coming years, we wouldn't become parents, and even after that, the future was uncertain. It's hard for me to say, but there was also a huge faith challenge, and the feelings were mixed—on one hand, I knew I had to thank Hashem for saving me and giving me life, but on the other hand, I couldn't ignore the question—what am I thanking for? For being barren? True, Hashem healed me, but He also gave me the illness. The feelings were very mixed..."

According to Hodaya, only when she prepared for the thanksgiving meal and organized what she wanted to say did something start to become clear to her. "When I spoke at the thanksgiving meal, which, by the way, was for women only, I reminded everyone that around the seder table on Passover, we thank Hashem for taking us out of Egypt, and here arises the question—why should we thank? Yes, Hashem took us out of Egypt, but He also put us there. One of the beautiful answers I encountered is that we were brought into Egypt even though we didn't want it, and surely we suffered a lot there, but just the stay there is what grew us and turned us into a chosen people.

"I added and said that even today, we all experience challenges and struggles that we wouldn’t wish upon ourselves, but there is no one who would not testify closely that it is precisely during the hard times that his capabilities are revealed and he sees how much strength there is within him. I really felt that because of all that I went through, I became better for myself and my family, and especially learned to cope and grow from hardships."

A Time of Expectation

Together with great faith, Hodaya notes that the days that followed were not simple at all. "We registered for fostering, but we were told that because I had only recently recovered, we would have to wait a long time. We began to internalize that the journey, which was already long and exhausting, was going to become even longer and more exhausting."

But it was out of this great fracture that Hodaya and her husband managed to strengthen and recover. "I began to understand that there are situations where the choice isn't in my hands, but my role is to look among the surrounding chaos, to find where I can still choose," she explains. "Every day anew, I consciously started choosing things that would help me feel good. So, for example, when we would leave the house for events, I would place in a special box the sum of money I would pay for a babysitter, if I had children, and later use it to treat myself to something. We also organized family trips for my siblings and my husband's. It's true that it was hard to see everyone going out with children and large families, but we managed to internalize that the fact that my siblings had children wasn't for a moment at our expense.

"Additionally, our house was never empty. Neighbors and family always knew that if they needed to step out or were going to give birth, they could leave their children with us. Maybe it's funny, but when our private children arrived, we already had almost everything at home—high chairs, bottles, games... nothing was missing."

Hodaya notes that by profession she is a social worker, and one of the tips she always emphasizes to families is "In a state of uncertainty, create an 'island' of certainty," where the idea is to find something small where you feel secure and cling to it. "We also tried to implement this, and in addition, I allowed myself the possibility to close my eyes and disconnect, to cry and hurt. So, for example, on the day of the Purim celebrations, I wouldn't leave the house because I knew it would hurt too much, and just chose not to be there, and it's perfectly fine."

And more than anything, according to her, the support group for women facing fertility challenges—the 'Happiness in the Journey', which she established along with other women from the Samaria area—strengthened her. "Our group has existed for over five years, and women from all around the area come, each with her challenge and her unique situation, with the commonality being the encounter with the journey of waiting for children. We meet frequently and also communicate a lot on WhatsApp—the events we hold are of a very high level, with a lot of investment in content and also in the general presentation. That feeling that you're not alone, but part of something big gives a lot of strength and reinforcement. I really recommend being part of a community when waiting for a child, to find a place where you feel equal, a place where you can cry and laugh together."

Do you want to say that this situation is so prevalent, that there are many women facing this?

"There are many more women in fertility treatments than one could imagine. Not all of them are without children; some face treatments because their previous child has a genetic defect, and they undergo treatments to ensure the next child is healthy, there's secondary infertility and a wide variety of reasons.

"Many couples hide it and don't talk about the treatments, and that's fine. It's important that every couple does what is good and right for them. Anyway, we shared from the beginning. We felt it was good for us; after all, we did nothing wrong causing this, so why hide it?"

Never Give Up

Currently, as mentioned, Hodaya is in a completely different place. Eight and a half years after their wedding, she and her husband received notice of a foster child expecting them.

"We were in the foster process all along," she shares, "But when it came, it surprised us, and since they informed us about it, within a month, the girl was already with us—she was then six months old. It was very exciting, but also strange and frightening—to take in a child who grew up in another home, to parents who loved her but couldn’t raise her. Additionally, there was always the realization that we could dedicate ourselves and become attached to her, only for her to potentially leave us in the end, since it's foster care and not adoption."

Were you worried about that?

"Yes, definitely," Hodaya replies candidly, "We were afraid that precisely after we received the child, we might lose her, and then we would be left with nothing, which is far harder than never having any children at all... But the more we thought about it, the more we realized that there isn't really anything in this world that is truly ours. Even what seems to belong to you might not in the future. This understanding gave us a greater sense of partnership with Hashem and the understanding that the children are only entrusted to us."

Hodaya notes that soon after receiving the child, they began to return to routine—to their jobs and daily life. "But the difficulty and strong desire to have children of our own didn't end," she points out. "The truth is, even before we received the child, we started the surrogacy process, and after receiving her, we continued without stopping. In the end, it took a bit more time, and two and a half years later, twins—a boy and a girl—were born to us."

One would think this is the pinnacle of happiness—finally, you became a family!

"Yes, it is great happiness, without a doubt," Hodaya agrees, "Suddenly all those dreams came true—the house is filled with baby gear, our car is packed with car seats, there's barely a free moment in the day, and all the time, thoughts revolve around—who is hungry, who needs to sleep, and who needs to be picked up.

"Yet, it's impossible to ignore the pain that still exists. It was precisely when we became parents to twins that we started to feel the sorrow over our eldest daughter, who was actually born into a world where she couldn't grow up with her real parents... It was an incredibly painful moment. Additionally, when everyone around us was excited that we have twins that are truly ours and resemble us, I still felt the loss in my heart—I wanted to be the one who gives birth to them, I wanted them to come two years after our wedding, not eleven years later. Still, of course, the great happiness overshadowed all challenges and pains. We celebrated with immense excitement at our son's brit, and later a thanksgiving party for our daughter. By the way, we also held a thanksgiving event for our eldest daughter, a bit after she came to us."

Is there a message you'd like to convey to other couples in an expectant period?

Hodaya reflects. "It's hard for me to convey a message," she finally says, "because the experience is truly very challenging. Being barren isn't easy at all, and there is no consolation for it. Yet, as part of my profession, I currently accompany women and couples in similar processes, and when I am with them, we think about how to live alongside the treatments and the absence. I recommend to them—choose every day anew, and sometimes several times a day, where you want to be and what indeed lies within your choice.

"It's also important to understand that if we were finally fortunate to hold a child, but in the meantime, our couple nest has withered—that is a huge loss. So invest, simply invest in yourselves and in your relationship, and at the same time, believe constantly that you will hold a child. There are many ways to achieve this and to bring the great light into your home, but it's important to prepare yourselves, so ultimately, there's a place to welcome that light."