A resource from the Australian Jewish Fertility Network (AJFN)

Pesach is a holiday of liberation. It is the story of a people who were seen, heard, and brought from the narrow straits of suffering into a new free world. And yet, for those walking the path of infertility or pregnancy loss, Pesach can arrive each year carrying its own particular weight. 

The children’s songs, the four questions, the empty high chairs and the full ones, the pregnant bellies at the table, the casual conversations about grandchildren, the “when are you going to have kids?” exchanged between aunts and uncles as naturally as passing the salt. It can feel less like liberation and more like sitting very still inside a grief that no one else at the table seems to notice.

At AJFN, we hear from members of our community every year as Pesach approaches. The messages sound different but carry the same thread: this time of year is hard, and it is hard in ways that are difficult to explain to people who have not been there.

If that is where you are this year, then this article is for you. And if someone you love is there, this is for you too.

Pesach and the longing for children

Children are woven into the fabric of Pesach. The central commandment of the festival is to tell your children the story of leaving Egypt so that they may tell theirs in the future. The Haggadah speaks of four children. The youngest asks the Mah Nishtanah. The continuation of the Jewish people, the passing of memory and ritual from one generation to the next, is not just a theme of the holiday. It is the holiday.

Judaism has always taken the desire for children seriously. The Torah is full of figures who longed and waited. Sarah and Avraham. Rivka. Rachel, whose cry to Yaakov, “Havah li banim v’im ayin metah anochi” (Give me children, for if not, I am as one who is dead), is one of the rawest expressions of longing in all of sacred text. These are not peripheral stories. They are the stories of our founding mothers and fathers. The rabbis understood infertility as a profound human experience, not as punishment or failure, but as a place of intense pain that warranted acknowledgment.

There is an idea in Tehillim (Psalms) that God counts the tears of those who weep. Our tradition does not look away from suffering. And yet, in our community settings, at our seders, however well-meaning our conversations are, we sometimes do. This is something AJFN works to change, one conversation at a time.

Grief and Pesach

Grief during Pesach is not simple, and it does not follow a neat pattern. It might show up as dread in the weeks before, quietly building as you imagine the table. It might be the moment you hear a child sing the Mah Nishtanah and feel something collapse quietly inside you. It might be the exhaustion of performing as though you are ok, of smiling when someone announces a pregnancy at the seder, of sitting through the afikomen hunt when all you want is to be anywhere else.

For those who have experienced a miscarriage or pregnancy loss, Pesach can carry the ghost of due dates, of a baby who would have been sitting at this table, of a pregnancy announced at last year’s seder that did not make it to this one.

For those in the middle of treatment, there is the particular cruelty of Pesach falling during a cycle, during injections and blood tests and the strange dissonance of sitting at a seder while your body is a medical project. Of not being able to drink the four cups without guilt, or of drinking them because the IVF failed and there is nothing left to protect.

And then there is the isolation. The sense that everyone else is in a different story to you. That the holiday is for them – for families with children and grandchildren and happy announcements – and that you are somehow watching from the outside.

All of this is real. All of it is valid. You are not being too sensitive. You are not failing at Pesach. You are carrying something enormous, and the holiday is simply making it harder to put it down for a few hours.

Allowing yourself to feel

There is a tendency, especially in community settings, to push toward positivity. To count blessings. To reframe. To look at what we have rather than what we do not. And there is wisdom in that, sometimes. But it cannot be all of it, and it cannot be rushed.

The Israelites in Egypt did not reframe their suffering before they were heard. They cried out. God heard the cry. Liberation came after the crying, not instead of it.

If you are in pain this Pesach, you do not need to make it spiritual or meaningful before you are ready. You do not need to arrive at gratitude before you have moved through the grief. You are allowed to find this hard. You are allowed to feel angry at the holiday, at the questions, at the comments, at your own body. Jewish tradition has room for all of that. 

Ways to care for yourself if you are struggling

There is no formula. But here are some things that others in our community have found helpful.

  • Give yourself permission to change the plan

You do not have to attend every seder. You do not have to stay for the whole thing. You can arrive late, leave early, or host a smaller gathering where you have more control over the environment. If going to a particular family seder is too painful this year, it is okay to make a different choice. Your wellbeing matters. You can explain as much or as little as you want.

  • Have an exit plan and a safe person

If you are going to a seder that might be difficult, identify one person who knows what you are going through and can be your anchor. Have a plan for if you need to step outside, take a moment in another room, or leave. Knowing you have a way out can make staying feel more manageable.

  • Prepare a response to unwanted questions

The “when are you having children?” question is almost inevitable in some family settings. Having a short, practiced answer can take the sting out of the ambush. Something as simple as “We’re working on it” or “That’s a topic for another time” or even a quiet redirect can give you something to reach for when the words might otherwise fail you.

  • Create your own meaningful moment

Some people find it meaningful to add something private to their seder that holds their experience. Lighting a candle, saying the AJFN Fertility Prayer, or reading a short meditation. The Haggadah is not a fixed text. Our people have always added to it. You are allowed to make space in it for yourself.

  • Be gentle with your body

The physical demands of Pesach preparation are real, and if you are in the middle of a treatment cycle or recovering from a loss, the exhaustion can be overwhelming. Try to share the load where you can. Ask for help. Lower the standard where you are able to. A simpler Pesach that you survive with your spirit intact is a better Pesach than a perfect one that leaves you depleted.

  • Reach out to AJFN before the chag

You do not have to navigate this season alone. AJFN’s Peer Support Companions are people from within our own community who have walked this path themselves. They are not therapists or counsellors. They are people who understand from the inside what it is to sit at a seder table carrying this particular grief, and who are there simply to be present with you. 

For family and friends: how to help your loved ones

If someone you love is going through infertility or pregnancy loss, Pesach is a moment where your awareness and care can make an enormous difference.

  • Do not ask about children at the seder

This is the most important thing on this list. “When are you having kids?” “You’re not getting any younger.” “A baby would be so beautiful.” These comments, however warmly intended, can land like a blow to someone who has been trying for years, who lost a pregnancy last month, who injected hormones that morning. If you would not know it was okay to ask, it is not okay to ask.

  • Check in before the chag, privately

A message or call in the days before Pesach, privately, to say you are thinking of them and you understand this might be a hard time, means more than most people realise. It does not need to be long. It just needs to say: I see you. I remember what you are carrying.

  • Be thoughtful about pregnancy announcements

If you are planning to announce a pregnancy at the seder, consider telling those who are struggling privately beforehand. This gives them the chance to prepare, to have their reaction in private, and to decide how they want to be present for the announcement. 

  • Offer practical help with Pesach preparation

The labour of preparing for Pesach is significant, and someone in the middle of infertility treatment or grief may be running on empty. Offer to bring a dish, help with the cleaning, look after other children so they can rest. Practical support removes pressure.

  • Follow their lead

Some people want to talk about what they are going through. Others need the seder to be a space where they are not the person dealing with infertility for a few hours. Ask, gently, what they need from you. And then honour it. There is no single right way to support someone through this, because there is no single way people experience it.

  • Do not offer explanations or silver linings

“Everything happens for a reason.” “At least you know you can get pregnant.” “Just relax and it will happen.” “Maybe Hashem has a different plan for you.” These phrases, however gently meant, tend to land as dismissals of real pain. What people need is not an explanation. They need to feel heard and supported. Sitting with someone in their difficulty, without trying to fix it, is one of the most loving things you can do.

Ensuring no Jewish Australian is ever alone on their fertility journey

One of the most painful aspects of infertility within Jewish community life is the sense that there is no room in the communal narrative for this particular struggle. Our communal celebrations, our conversations, our very holidays are built around milestones: births, bar and bat mitzvahs, weddings, grandchildren. When you are caught in a chapter that does not contain those milestones, you can feel invisible.

Pesach itself offers an opening. It is, at its heart, the story of a cry being heard. Of suffering being witnessed. Of liberation coming not despite the pain, but through the honest acknowledgement of it. If we can carry that spirit into how we treat one another across the chag table, we will be doing something very much in the tradition of what this holiday asks of us.

AJFN exists because this community deserves to have this conversation. We exist because too many people have sat at too many seders feeling completely alone in their pain, not knowing that others around them understood. 

Contact AJFN

We are here to listen, to walk alongside you, and to make sure you do not have to face this alone. You can reach us on 02 7906 8366 (Syd) 03 88 40 6560 (Melb), [email protected] or visit our support page. Whether you need someone to talk to before the holiday, during, or after, we are here.

Chag Pesach Sameach. May this season bring moments of gentleness where you need them most. And may the year ahead bring you closer to what your heart is holding.

Help us ensure no one feels alone this Pesach. Share this with someone who may need it.