Mazel Tov, We Got a Pulse and a Ring

It was the happiest of nights for me and my family.
e gathered in a beautifully lit event hall. Shimmering lights, delicious food and joyful music filled the air. Our family and friends had come together to celebrate my son’s wedding, a moment every mother dreams of. For a little while, I allowed myself to be fully present.

As head of the United Hatzalah Midwives Unit and an EMT, I have grown used to family events being interrupted. But tonight was different. Tonight, I was not a volunteer medic. I was simply the mother of the groom.

And then in a heartbeat, everything changed.

A young man, in his early twenties, collapsed on the floor.

There is a moment in every emergency when time seems to stand still. I am sure the music continued and conversations carried on, but for me, instinct took over. Before I could fully process what was happening, I was already moving toward him. After all, I am a United Hatzalah medic. That never leaves you.

Together with a fellow EMT, Eli Rosenthal, we reached him within seconds. He had no pulse. He was unresponsive. We both understood that every second mattered.

We began CPR immediately.

There is something surreal about performing resuscitation at a wedding, let alone your own son’s wedding. Around the celebration continued. But Eli and I were focused on the task at hand. Compressions. Breaths. Calling for additional support. Again and again.

We worked together, methodically and urgently.

And then, miraculously, a pulse. Faint at first, and then, with each passing beat, growing stronger. The young man’s heart had begun to beat again.

It is impossible to fully describe that feeling. Relief, disbelief, gratitude, all at once. Once we stabilized him, I handed him over to additional responders who had arrived at the scene. He was transferred to the hospital in stable condition.

As the simcha resumed, United Hatzalah’s Psychotrauma & Crisis Response teams stepped in, caring not only for the patient but for the emotional shock that had rippled through the guests. Because we know that not every injury is physical.

But that was someone else’s concern. For me, it was back to the wedding. Back to my family. Back to my son and his bride.

There is a strange, almost dual personality to being a United Hatzalah volunteer. One moment you are standing beneath the chuppah of your child’s wedding, and the next you are performing life-saving compressions on a guest.

People often ask how we balance it all. The truth is, we do not separate the two. They are one and the same.

For me, I am a mother. A midwife. A volunteer United Hatzalah medic. And proud of it!