Dr. Gal Rosen lives a life sculpted by loss and defined by unwavering courage. As an Israeli paramedic, he routinely races toward danger, a heartbeat against the backdrop of sirens and the threat of incoming missiles. He doesn’t pause to consider the risk; instinct takes over. “Don’t think, just act,” he says, a mantra forged in the crucible of constant emergency.
The roots of his dedication run deep. He lost his mother to a terrorist attack as a child, a trauma that didn’t breed hatred, but a fierce commitment to life. He honed his skills as an army paramedic, but continues his work now as a civilian, choosing to remain in Israel despite the ever-present danger, serving with Magen David Adom in Tel Aviv.
He witnesses the fragility of life daily, the heartbreaking moments when even his best efforts aren’t enough. He carries the weight of those losses, often shielding his family from the grim realities of his work. But recently, a story emerged from the darkness – a beacon of hope he couldn’t keep to himself.
Last Thursday, Rosen delivered a healthy baby boy. Moments later, as sirens wailed, signaling an imminent missile attack, he found himself racing to a bomb shelter with the newborn in his arms, the father close behind. This was his fifth emergency delivery, but the first under the terrifying shadow of war.
“It was surrealistic,” he recalls, a week later, finally able to smile after a grueling shift and a stolen moment of sleep. “Something like this had never happened to me.” It was a story of light, a stark contrast to the stories he usually keeps locked away, protecting his loved ones from the horrors he faces.
Just two days prior, he had witnessed five deaths in a single shift. The weight of those losses is immense, a burden he doesn’t share with his family. This story, however, was different. He needed to tell it, and his grandmother, his father, his partner, and his friends all shared in his joy.
The call came at 6:30 a.m. A woman in labor needed immediate assistance. By the time Rosen’s team arrived, the baby was nearly born, the husband supporting his wife through the final moments. Rosen stepped in to safely deliver the boy, just as the warning sirens began to scream.
Time became critical. He quickly placed the newborn on his mother’s chest, initiating the vital skin-to-skin contact essential for bonding. He guided the father through cutting the umbilical cord and helped the mother begin breastfeeding, striving to create a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos.
Then came the scramble for safety. With the father’s help, they moved the family into the building’s shelter, where neighbors – a grandmother, an aunt, others – gathered to meet the newest member of their community, all while alarms blared overhead.
Instinct took over. Donning his helmet and vest, Rosen secured the baby and ran with the father to a nearby public shelter. Finding it locked and empty, they raced to another building, finally finding refuge with fifty strangers. He handed the baby to his father, unwilling to let the newborn be held by anyone else during such a terrifying ordeal.
Inside the shelter, the unmistakable boom of the Iron Dome intercepting a missile reverberated through the air, a physical shockwave that vibrated through the room. Despite the danger, a spontaneous eruption of applause and congratulations filled the cramped space. “Mazal tov!” they shouted, celebrating the new life amidst the threat of destruction.
The mother remained in the ambulance, still recovering from childbirth, as the Iron Dome continued its work. Rosen, guided by his training, focused on the essentials: skin-to-skin contact and breastfeeding, knowing these were the best medicine for a baby born into such extraordinary circumstances.
Nikola and Violet, the grateful parents, described the experience as frightening but praised the emergency team for their calm professionalism. “The team functioned amazingly, calmed us, and treated us in the best possible way,” they shared. “This isn’t the ideal experience, but we’re happy everything ended safely.”
Rosen’s dedication stems from a profound choice. Losing his mother to terror, he could have chosen a different path, a life free from the constant threat. Instead, he chose to stay, to build a life in Israel, and to dedicate himself to saving others. “To choose to still be here with my family… This is our home,” he says.
He sees his work as a defiant act of hope, a rejection of hate. He believes in the resilience of the human spirit and the power of compassion. Even after a 17-hour shift, followed by another immediately after, he finds strength in moments like these, moments that illuminate the darkness.
“Most of our days right now are dark,” he admits. But the birth of this baby, delivered under the shadow of war, was a powerful reminder of why he does what he does. It was a moment of pure joy, a testament to the enduring power of life, and a story he knew he had to share.
