In the midst of conflict, when most people seek shelter, a courageous few head straight into the unknown.
For many women in Israel, the act of giving birth became a surreal blend of fear, hope, resilience, and sirens, as their birth plans were drastically changed amid ballistic missiles being fired by Iran toward Israel for nearly a week.
Their stories offer a glimpse into what it means to bring new life into the world while the world outside seems to be falling apart.
Giving birth under fire
SERENA KALISH, 33, gave birth to her fourth child during a weekend filled with missile-warning sirens and uncertainty. A resident of Beit Shemesh who made aliyah with her husband and two kids from Great Neck, New York, Kalish had been in the hospital for several days awaiting induction for baby No. 4. The night of her delivery, sirens rang through the halls of Shaare Zedek Medical Center as missiles were intercepted overhead.
“We were in the delivery room the whole time,” Kalish recalled. “It wasn’t technically a safe area, but the staff decided to stay there during sirens because it was internal. Once I was hooked up to the epidural, I couldn’t move anyway.” Sirens wailed actively through her delivery on Saturday morning.
What followed her delivery was no less intense. During her recovery, multiple sirens forced her and dozens of other new mothers to run, babies in arms, to the designated shelter area.
“There’s a line of new moms in their hospital gowns, running to the hallway. The nurses are handing out water and trying to find chairs for everyone. It was just surreal.”
Kalish was discharged within 36 hours – a timeline that has become the new norm.
“I had three-day stays with my previous births,” she said. “Now, given the extremity of the situation, it’s in and out as fast as possible. Some moms are being discharged just 12 hours after giving birth.”
The ongoing anxiety doesn’t end at the hospital. Back home, Kalish’s children sleep in the family’s safe room, and her mother, who flew in from Long Island before the escalation, remains stranded.
“Emotionally, it’s like a roller coaster. Everyone says ‘mazal tov,’ but it’s always followed by ‘I can’t believe you’re going through this.’ I want it to be a happy time – it’s supposed to be – but everyone is dealing with so much.”
In the early hours of Wednesday morning, Natalie Seeff, 47, headed to Tel Aviv’s Ichilov Hospital to deliver her third child. Seeff is a single mother, by choice, of three, and was forced into labor under extraordinary circumstances.
She was already overdue at 41 weeks, and her biggest fear was being caught in the sirens while en route to the hospital.
“I called an ambulance because I was afraid of having to get out midway due to a missile-warning siren,” she said. “At least in an ambulance, I’d be with people who could help.”
She was surprised to find the ER quiet. What she found did not match her previous births, though she was giving birth under very different circumstances. The labor ward, relocated to a bomb shelter room, was less chaotic than expected.
“It was surreal. The rooms were just curtained-off spaces, so you could hear everyone else giving birth. But the staff were calm and professional. I was getting an epidural just as sirens and booms were going off, but the anesthetist didn’t even flinch.”
Her recovery took place in a ward adjacent to a secure baby unit.
“If there was a siren, we were told to go next door. Thankfully, it didn’t happen during my stay.”
Her children, aged four and two, slept on the floor in the family’s apartment safe room at home, as her parents watched over them.
“I debated whether it would be better to be running for cover pregnant or with a newborn. Either way, it’s madness.”
As a single mother, she emphasized the importance of flexibility and calm.
“It’s all luck. You can come in when it’s crazy busy or totally quiet. Ichilov was well organized. I would advise other women to call around, check where labor wards have been moved, and plan accordingly.”
Her final thoughts were both practical and hopeful.
“No visitors are allowed. My older kids couldn’t meet their new sibling at the hospital, which is a shame. But the upside is that it’s calm, quiet, and less stressful.”
Less than 24 hours after birth, her newborn was in a shelter as sirens wailed across the city and country.
For Leah Stroller Ginat, a 33-year-old medical intern living in Tel Aviv, the reality of giving birth during wartime struck hard. At 35 weeks pregnant and working in a hospital ER, Leah faces risks on both professional and personal fronts.
“When I heard hospitals were moving delivery rooms to protected areas, I realized this wasn’t a temporary situation,” Leah explained to The Jerusalem Post. “I had to reconsider my birth plan entirely.”
Originally from the Washington, DC, area, she intended to give birth at Rabin Medical Center-Beilinson Campus, Petah Tikva. But with no bomb-proof facilities there, she began looking elsewhere.
“Giving birth isn’t a five-minute ordeal. You could be in labor for hours, and it’s painful. You don’t want to be unprotected.”
The changes affect more than just location. Hospital policies have shifted dramatically.
“Some hospitals are either forcing or preventing zero separation with newborns, depending on staff availability. And many are discharging new moms far earlier than normal.”
Her biggest heartbreak, however, lies in isolation. Her main request for her birthing experience was to have her parents in Israel with her for her delivery.
“My parents can’t get into the country. This is their first grandchild. I’m an only child, and it’s honestly devastating to go through this without them.”
As an ER intern, Leah’s work continues amid the chaos, even at nine months pregnant.
“I can’t run quickly if there’s a siren when I’m in the car. My husband has been driving me to work. Yesterday, we had a siren while I was in the hospital, and I had to sit on a narrow staircase for 40 minutes. I’m nearly nine months pregnant. It’s physically and emotionally exhausting.”
Extra care and diligence at Israel's medical centers
MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS responsible for caring for patients and their special circumstances have been scrambling to ensure that patients and their safety are treated with extra care and diligence.
Hospital staff are adapting to wartime circumstances, but have acknowledged the additional risks presented by the stress of giving birth under fire. N., a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) nurse at a hospital in central Israel, told the Post that the stress presented by the situation raises cortisol levels not only in mothers but in premature babies and newborns.
During stressful situations, like mothers giving birth amid the threat of missile attacks, cortisol levels rise as part of the body’s natural stress response. This hormone can increase heart rate, boost energy, and heighten alertness, but prolonged stress can weaken the immune system, disrupt sleep, and impact emotional well-being. For mothers, this stress can affect their mental state and the development of their babies, especially in such high-pressure environments like those described in the NICU during attacks.
“I feel the stress they are feeling – from the parents, from the babies – they’re all very stressed by the situation. Even if they are [birthing] in a secured location, it’s still incredibly stressful for them,” N. said.
Medical staff has been forced to adapt, working longer-than-normal shifts given the circumstances to provide round-the-clock care to patients. According to N., the unit they worked in was expected to be renovated, with the old intensive care space acting as a partial bomb shelter. Now, to adapt to the situation at hand, the ward has been divided, operating with a few rooms in cardiac intensive care, and other rooms acting as a typical nursery in a designated bomb shelter.From forced immediate contact between mothers and babies following delivery to accommodate the needs of the hospital under special circumstances, to a lack of privacy during the birthing experience itself, both mothers and medical professionals involved have found themselves facing extreme challenges.
Complications can still arise in delivery, including scheduled or emergency cesarean surgeries, commonly known as C-sections. Hospitals have moved these birth-related surgeries to other general surgery units.
Rebekah Pearlman, who began working as a doula in Tel Aviv a year ago after years in tech sales and nonprofit work, told the Post that professionals involved in delivery are adapting on a moment’s notice, with things changing every couple of minutes.
A doula is a support person during birth who uses different support methods and tools to make women giving birth feel comfortable. They are there before birth, and frequently work with midwives to provide support as an additional partner during delivery.
“I was at births the other night; women are being very respectful. It’s not an ideal situation for anyone; hospitals are not doing inductions until they see an urgency for it,” Pearlman told the Post.
She added that delivery staff has everything needed despite the circumstances – epidurals, laughing gas, anything that will make an expecting mother more comfortable.
New mothers presented with the current challenges and changes to their birth plans have something in common: the fierce, unwavering determination to bring new life into the world, even as sirens wail in the background. Their resilience, clarity, and courage highlight not just the struggle of childbirth under fire, but also the power of maternal instinct and human endurance in times of crisis.
“Giving birth behind a curtain is nobody’s ideal birth and nobody’s dream,” said Pearlman. “But to be there hearing Jewish babies being born while sirens are going off is really a beautiful sign of resilience.”