My Last Trip To The Mikvah


I just went to the mikvah for the last time. I am 28 years old.

I took my time getting ready. As if it was in slow motion, I needed to take in every moment to make sure I remembered what it was like and the pure beauty of it. I suddenly felt aware of how much I used to dislike going sometimes. How often I’d rush the experience and how I never really stopped to appreciate what it meant. 

What it represented. 

Something special I’d never be a part of again. 

When I battled through secondary infertility I found going to the mikvah hard; top doctors told me I’d never get pregnant. 

But I never gave up hope. 

I don’t know if it’s true, but someone once told me, “As long as you have a womb there’s always a chance,” and I held onto that. We continued to fight to be parents and thanks to a miracle, we were able to have two children.  

But this time I walked into the mikvah knowing that there was a hundred percent, no miracle out there, no amount of treatments could ever help me carry another baby. 

I’d never have another period again. That’s a funny thing to mourn when periods are what destroyed my body physically due to my experience with endometriosis. 

But there I found myself, mourning the thing I’d dreaded most for 16 years. Not because of what it was but because of what it represented. 

So for the last time, I went to the most beautiful mikvah.

It was in a friend’s house, she was the mikvah attendant and made the experience so special for me. For this, I am eternally grateful. 

Immersed in the water of the mikvah I felt at my holiest. 

I connected with my family: past, present, and future. 

I davened for them. 

I took my last opportunity, I stayed in the water and cried until I felt I had no tears left to cry. 

I admitted defeat, that everything was too much for me, and had been too much for me. 

I asked Hashem for help but I also thanked him for everything he had given me: an amazing husband, my hero. Two miracle children who we still can’t believe we have today. For my family and so much more. 

I didn’t always appreciate going to the mikvah but I wish I had. 

It’s a chapter of my life that’s over. 

My heart breaks to let that chapter go. 


Michaela Abenson is 26 years old and has been suffering from chronic illness from the age of 15. She’s never had a normal life but always try’s her best. She’s a wigmaker and set up her own wig business (although she is currently off work). Always a very private person, yet over the past few months, she’s begun to blog about her experiences. She hopes she can raise awareness for endometriosis and help support others. She feels lucky to have the most supportive husband and her miracle, her amazing daughter.