The story I’m about to share happened more than six years ago. Even though time has passed, the message still burns bright. At the time, the pain was too raw to write about — but now, with the perspective that only time and emunah can give, I feel ready to share.

Six and a half years ago, I gave birth to a baby girl — and shortly afterward, I lost my job because I had a baby.

I was working for a legal company in Israel. By law, it’s illegal to fire a woman because she gave birth or to ask her to work while on maternity leave. But that’s exactly what my company did. And I wasn’t just any employee — I was the sole supporter of a large family.

I had been with the company for six years, originally as a programmer. Two years in, the business was on the verge of shutting down due to low profits. The marketing director went on maternity leave, and I was asked to step in temporarily. With Hashem’s help, I gave it my all and successfully increased company revenue by 40%. Despite the added responsibility, I received no raise — just promises that things would improve “when the company stabilizes.” I stayed, working two jobs for one salary, because I believed in loyalty and in giving my best.

Eventually, I told my boss I couldn't sustain the pressure. Between work, family, and health issues, it was becoming too much. His response?
“You have to run the marketing. Without you, we don’t have a company.”

This pregnancy was particularly difficult. I was physically weak, emotionally drained, and dealing with serious complications. After the birth, I could barely walk. I had also endured the trauma of nearly losing my baby. I desperately needed time to heal — physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

So I was shocked when, barely a week after giving birth, the emails started. Technical issues. Business decisions. At first I politely replied that I was on maternity leave. Then came the phone calls — waking me early in the morning just weeks postpartum. When I stopped responding, the tone turned condescending and harsh.

I was emotionally shattered. Even when my baby finally slept, I lay awake, hurt by the injustice. I had poured myself into this company, and this was how I was being repaid.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked my husband to call my boss on my behalf. I didn’t have the strength to advocate for myself. My husband explained that I wasn’t well and asked him to stop contacting me. The response?
“Five weeks after birth — don’t tell me she’s not feeling well.”
When my husband reminded him it was illegal to ask me to work, the answer came:
“We’re not asking her to work. We’re just asking her questions.”
And then the words that made everything crystal clear:
“Maybe it’s time for her to start working for someone else.”

And that’s when I lost my job.

Many people encouraged me to report him. To take legal action. To go to beis din. But instead, I chose something different.

I took my children’s hands, and we danced. We sang “Shehakol nih’yeh bidvaro.”
Because I knew — with every fiber of my being — that if Hashem was closing this door, it meant He had something better in store. He wasn’t taking away my parnassah. He was redirecting it.

The pain didn’t disappear instantly. The anger and disappointment lingered for a long time. But slowly, my heart began to feel what my mind already knew: Hashem runs the world, not my boss.

And then, the yeshuah came.

B”H, today I have more work than I can handle. People are waiting for me to finish projects so they can hire me. I work under better conditions, with more flexibility, less stress, and better pay.
And it all started with one email.

Hashem didn’t just give me back what I lost. He gave me more.

So yes — this is a story of injustice. But it’s even more a story of emunah, of holding on when everything feels like it’s unraveling. Of choosing to believe that Hashem’s plan is greater than ours. That pain is often the beginning of blessing.

And that when we let go and trust Him — He lifts us even higher than we imagined.