Respect the need to mourn a stillborn child

Thirty-six years ago in South Africa, Karen* gave birth to premature quadruplets, one of whom was stillborn. The baby’s body was buried by the Chevrah Kadisha, but Karen and her husband were never told where his grave was.

There was no official mourning, no funeral, and no consecration for this baby boy, because in Judaism, there’s no obligation to do so for a child who does not live until 30 days old.

For Karen and her husband, the fact that they never mourned their stillborn child meant they never had closure. Twenty-seven years later, they finally found out where he was buried, had a gravestone made and consecrated, and a local rabbi conducted a ceremony.

Looking back, Karen recalls how just after her baby died, she was obsessed. “It was the only conversation I wanted to have.” Yet she had to put her grief aside. “I was told that this was traditional Jewish law. That was how things were. But my soul always said, ‘Surely this cannot be law?’” When she finally looked into where her child was buried, “I was filled with guilty thoughts. What kind of mother doesn’t acknowledge the loss of her child?”

This lack of obligation means that many Jewish families, like Karen’s, don’t mourn stillborn babies, with possibly serious personal ramifications.

In Israel before 2014, Jewish parents weren’t allowed to take part in a burial or know where their babies were buried. After complaints from Israeli families, the health ministry changed the law. Now, parents are entitled to choose whether they wish to participate in a farewell procedure at the hospital or through a funeral and burial. The law insists that the Chevrah Kadisha allow the parents to be present at the funeral and mark the burial plot, and families requesting a civil burial ceremony are permitted to hold one.

In South Africa, there is no law preventing a Jewish family from mourning a stillborn baby in any way, says Rabbi Gidon Fox of the Pretoria Hebrew Congregation and an expert in halacha and fertility.

“The halachic legalities of mourning are precisely that, legal, with significant constraints placed upon mourners. A lack of obligation to mourn isn’t synonymous with a prohibition against mourning. It merely states that we can’t impose those duties and responsibilities in such a situation. It shouldn’t be misconstrued as Judaism’s disregard for the stillbirth and the trauma it causes. The halacha is therefore not saying one isn’t allowed to, it’s saying one isn’t obligated to. There’s a big difference.”

He says that perhaps the custom of not sitting shiva (the week-long mourning period) for a stillborn evolved so as not to confuse the laws around a Levirite marriage. This is when a woman whose husband dies without bearing children would marry his brother. But if a family sat shiva for a stillborn, it would make it unclear if that man had borne a child or not, and whether she was obliged to perform this mitzvah. These days, this isn’t relevant as Levirite marriages are no longer allowed.

Fox says that as far as he knows in South Africa , there is no formal funeral, but usually there is a coffin, a stone marking the grave, parents are told where the baby is buried, and can visit anytime.

Referring to Karen’s case, he says, “This is an iconic case showing why all parents of stillborn babies need pastoral care as this couple was still mourning this baby decades later. Jewish law isn’t heartless, and can’t be applied in a heartless manner.

“The community needs to provide the family with support and rally behind them,” says Fox. “They need everything that we do for a mourner. It’s the loss of a life that carried the dreams and aspirations of those parents. Often the tragedy is exacerbated by the mother going through labour to give birth to the opposite of life. It’s unimaginable, and the community needs to be supportive.

“In days gone by, it wasn’t a given that a pregnancy would result in a healthy baby or even a healthy mother, reducing expectations regarding the outcome,” he adds. “Today, we live in a world where, thankfully, that’s not the case, so it’s a tremendous loss when that expectation doesn’t come to fruition. There’s no question that the communal attitude has to be to treat it like a loss, and provide emotional and material support.”

Fox says that, according to the information provided to him, there are records of all Jewish burials in South Africa certainly since 1940, and anyone should be able to find out where a person is buried.

He says that if a stillborn baby is a boy, he is often given a brit milah. “This is because we are only complete as Jewish men once we have a bris. It wouldn’t be fair to allow a baby boy to go to the next world without one.

“There is an interesting law in mourning that for the first three days, you don’t start a conversation with the mourner,” Fox says. “This is because sometimes there are no words to give solace, and your presence says everything. This is even more so in a situation such as this. We must be wary of platitudes, and the family must be comfortable to ask questions. There are no treif (unkosher) questions. Just because we don’t have the answer, doesn’t mean we can’t ask the question.”

Rabbi Greg Alexander of the Cape Town Progressive Jewish Congregation affirms that the halacha says parents aren’t required to mourn a stillborn, possibly because of higher infant death rates in the past. However, today, it’s “crucial that rabbis work sensitively with the family, to guide and be guided by their wishes. The Chevrah Kadisha is open and willing to help. It just needs to be asked,” he says.

Alexander hasn’t conducted a full funeral for a stillborn, but has performed ceremonies guided by family wishes, which may include saying kaddish or throwing sand in the grave. “Traditional mourning rituals aren’t required, but neither are they forbidden,” he says. “What’s definitely required is sensitivity and support.”

*Not her real name