Following the outbreak of war and unexpected evacuation from Kibbutz Eilon in the Western Galilee where she had anticipated a joyful pregnancy, Tal Asiag found herself in the High Risk Pregnancy Service at Rambam, anxiously awaiting her daughter's arrival.
Shortly after discovering she was pregnant, Tal Asiag was evacuated along with her family from Kibbutz Eilon in the Western Galilee near the Lebanese border. After moving, Asiag was eager to contribute and enlisted in the Kibbutz’s emergency squad, but due to her pregnancy, she was offered to serve as an operations sergeant. However, at week 23, she unexpectedly went into labor and was admitted to Rambam Health Care Campus (Rambam) in Haifa, Israel, where she gave birth to her first daughter at week 26. Since then, Asiag has devoted herself to being there for her newborn, anxiously counting down the days until they can move into their new home, hoping to raise her daughter in the kibbutz she loves so dearly.
This year was meant to be a significant for Asiag. At 37, she is a horse farm owner and emotional therapist with dreams of motherhood tied to her pregnancy. However, in Israel's challenging landscape of 2024, her joy has been mixed with sadness and fear. The tranquil kibbutz life, surrounded by the Galilee and the sound of galloping horses, was disrupted when she had to evacuate from her home with her extended family. The horse farm that represented her passion and livelihood is now closed and she spends her days in Rambam's nursery beside her daughter, who was born prematurely during her military reserves service. “What keeps me going these days is my daughter,” she says. “I understand that I have to be strong for her.”
“Pregnancy is a happy and fulfilling time,” Asiag reflects. “I had an amazing experience, but the reality around us changed everything. We had to confront multiple uncertainties regarding income, housing, and the challenges that arose from our evacuation. As we realized the situation was developing into a long-term crisis, I needed to keep myself busy. I wanted to participate in the defense of our home, so I accepted the role of operations sergeant in the Western Galilee region. While there was constant pressure with missiles and drones overhead, I felt I was contributing significantly to my country.”
After one of her shifts, Asiag went for a routine pregnancy test, only to find herself in a new battle—the fight to sustain her pregnancy. “I was in my 23rd week when the exam revealed that labor had started.” She immediately took off her uniform and rushed to Rambam, where she learned she needed a cervical cerclage (temporary stitches) to help prolong the pregnancy. Despite the risks, Asiag made the choice to proceed, hoping the procedure would buy her precious time.
She remained in the Mrs. Edith and Professor Dov Katz Maternal and Fetal Medicine Unit for three weeks. There were harrowing moments of being rushed to the delivery room multiple times, each time managing to extend the pregnancy a little longer. Finally, at week 26, the time came. After the stitches were removed, Asiag gave birth naturally and was taken for a procedure to remove the placenta. “After the operation, I asked to go to the NICU to meet my daughter for the first time,” she recalls, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions. “This whole experience was surreal. There’s the pregnancy, then there’s birth, and suddenly there’s a disconnection. I felt no movement in my belly. When I first saw her, she was in an incubator, connected to support devices and unable to be touched to avoid the risk of a brain bleed. It wasn't until a week later that I could hold her, and I haven’t left her side since.”
Months have passed since that day and Asiag cherishes every moment with her baby. “Where do I go?” she says. “It’s just like pregnancy, except now she’s here beside me. She needs me, and I need her. There are better days and more challenging ones, but she’s getting stronger and developing, and I'm striving to stay optimistic.” As red alerts flash on her phone, Asiag monitors the areas where her evacuated family resides, finding comfort in the sense of control that comes from being informed. “When I cared for children on the farm, I would tell their parents that if they felt safe and secure, their children would feel the same way. I apply those methods to care for myself and remain strong for her. I have a great support system here, which makes a significant difference. The future feels uncertain, but we are starting anew in Kibbutz Shomrat until we can find a more permanent place, hoping it will eventually be at our home on Kibbutz Eilon.”
Based on a Hebrew article published on Mako.