I am 29.5 weeks pregnant with my fourth child, and I increasingly wonder if I am making a mistake.

Not because I don’t desperately want this child. I do. With every fiber of my being. Not a day has gone by over the last seven months in which I haven’t felt grateful to be carrying this child, despite the pain and agony of a pregnancy that forces me into a wheelchair because of pain walking and standing, a pregnancy which has me made me sick non stop; a pregnancy which keeps me up throughout the night. I know I can handle all of that.

What makes me doubt whether I am doing the right thing in bringing another Jewish life into the world right now is the fact that two beautiful young Jews, Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim, can get shot by a cold blooded murderer in the name of “social justice” as they left a panel discussion aimed at finding solutions to get more humanitarian aid into Gaza. And the world says almost nothing.

Where is the outrage? Where are our non-Jewish friends and allies? The same questions we’ve asked every single day since Oct. 7, 2023.

The free world has either buried its head in the sand and turned a blind eye to the rising tides of radicalization and antisemitism — or worse, justified it because of the same pernicious lies touted by “reputable” organizations and institutions like the United Nations, and the International Criminal Court, not to mention the mainstream media, the British Parliament, and members of our own Congress. The false accusations of genocide and apartheid take their toll, eroding the world’s ability to care about the murder of innocent, Zionist Jews.

In 2025, after all, Zionist or even Israeli, has become a radioactive label — something people want to stay far away from. One only need to walk through a college campus today to see the workings of that hate machine, which pedals “social justice” and “free speech” as the justification for vile slogans just the same as the ones uttered by the murderer of Yaron and Sarah, like “Free Free Palestine” and “From the River to the Sea, Palestine Will be Free,” and “resistance by any means necessary.”

It would be better if the world was shocked and outraged when those violent and threatening slogans actually lead to violence — and yet, more than anything, the resounding response is… silence.

I desperately find myself scrolling through my social media, looking for some affirmation, some validation, that my Jewish children’s lives matter outside of my Jewish world. But the outside world seems to be mostly ignorant to the news out of D.C., and despite many Jewish friends’ pleas — “check in on your Jewish friends” today” — a total of zero of my non-Jewish friends actually do reach out.

It’s not that I think my non-Jewish friends don’t care. I know they do. But whether because the news of these beautiful souls’ death hasn’t registered across their feeds, or because they don’t want to get “political” — after all, these young bright souls, on the verge of engagement, worked at the Israeli embassy, so there is that “radioactive” bit again — it’s easier for them to stay silent.

What they fail to realize, what we have been screaming out time and again for the last 18 months, is the age old truism that what starts with the Jews, never ends with the Jews. We are but the canary in the coal-mine, the weathervane for the ailments of our failing, faltering society.

If nothing else, at least the gloomy weather feels in sync with the mood, I thought to myself, as I numbly went through my day. Some small measure of external validation.

“I don’t think I can wear a kippah anymore,” my husband says, for the first time, as he walks in through the door last night. This is my husband, the grandson of Holocaust survivors, who refused to take off his kippah, the physical representation of his Jewish identity, even after his father was beaten to a pulp on the streets of New York City just because he was wearing a kippah. My husband, who refused to take off his kippah after October 7, when he had to walk through hateful masked hooligans blocking foot-traffic outside of John Jay College of Criminal Justice, ah the irony.

But in some ways, last week feels like a turning point. A sickening dawning realization, that nowhere feels safe for Jews anymore. That my husband and I — who years ago was on ACCESS, the same young leadership board of the AJC that Sarah was involved with, the organization that hosted the event at the museum — could easily have been attending that very event or one like it … that Yaron and Sarah could have been us.

And that is why a part of me cannot help but wonder if I am making a mistake. The lonely echo chamber of justifying our existence has gotten lonelier with every passing day. And yet … the greater part of my being, the inexplicable “link in the chain” part of my soul, knows that the only answer as Jews that we have ever or will ever know in the face of the ongoing cycle of attempted genocides towards our people, is to bring more Jewish life into this dark and morally upside down world.

Because even in the darkest times of our history, we have chosen to imagine the light we cannot see, to find the crevices of hope in the greatest depths of despair, to provide for ourselves the answers and the validation that we aren’t getting from the outside world — that if you prick us, we do in fact bleed.

Daniella Kahane is a Peabody Award winning producer, writer, and the Co-Founder and CEO of WIN (Women in Negotiation), as well as the Co-Founder of Atoof, an original luxury artisanal Judaica collection.

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