Jewish

On Rosh Hashannah 5781…

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 1 Comment
L’shana Tova from The Hutchings Family

It’s been a year.

A year of so many ups and plenty of downs for the world around us.

This time last year, I was preparing my soul and my voice to be present for our CNT congregation while feeling the kicks of a soon to be born baby. It was my favorite High Holy Days in so many ways.

Fast forward a few months… While we were experiencing the joy of a newborn, the world became sick with a virus like none other. My role changed overnight… To stay at home Ima… working 60-80 hours a week behind a screen. We lived in fear for our family and our community.

Fast forward a few more months, a pandemic had changed us. My son would know that meeting new people meant not seeing their smile, but instead, to know them by their eyes. New normal was Emmett’s only known normal. We stopped living in fear, and started living cautiously and to the fullest. We cherished the time spent at home and with our inner circle. Plans for limited screen time were squashed by zoom calls in my lap and watching me lead services on TV instead of together in the sanctuary. It was a year of lessons… working harder than ever before, and still learning to settle for less.

Fast forward a few more months… I had dreams of snail mailed postcards for Emmett’s first Rosh Hashannah… but it turns out cantor/principal/mom (during a pandemic) the balancing act is trial and error, and it’s okay to say… dayeinu, next year. (Wrong holiday, same sentiment) We got as far as the photo shoot in the cute outfit, with our pomegranate tree and precious 500 year old baby Torah. It’s been a year. A great year. A hard year. A year like none other. And also… the best year… because Emmett arrived and changed us.

Wishing you and yours the sweetest new year. May it be filled with happiness, health, and love. We know these are trying times, so please know, we are here for you. Services begin tonight at 7PM. Go to lvnertamid.org to join us, light the candles with Emmett and our family, and ring in the new year with prayer and prose. L’shana Tova tikateivu v’techateimu. ❤️✡️🎵🍎

Hopeful

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 2 Comments

Before laying my very tired head on the pillow tonight, I feel the need to write something to say, I’m here for you, and I’m hopeful.

This blog has always been a place to be real about infertility, loss, and HOPE.

When Emmett arrived in our world, prayers were answered, and all the hopes and prayers came true.

If we would have thrown in the towel on hope, Emmett most certainly wouldn’t have been here smiling ear to ear.

The world seemingly turned upside down this week. Perhaps it’s been coming a bit longer, but it became real this week. As if we were living in a movie, everyday life just hit pause. As a woman who is constantly on the go, constantly working for her community, and constantly in four places at once… I suddenly became frozen in time, and I know you did too.

It wasn’t a time to sit still, though. I had to fight the urge to turn on reality tv and ignore actual reality… and I had to he the best version of myself so that I could be there for you. When our congregation began making plans to close our doors to the public, it was unprecedented. The place where we constantly invite you to join us, the place we go for spiritual growth and comfort, was suddenly closed.

I realized our community needed to stay connected… immediately. Thanks to my cantor BFFL, our community partnered with our sister synagogues in LA and we launched jewitathome.com. Not even a week later, it’s running 12 hours a day with constant programming for the public, for free. Our services, Torah study, lessons, song sessions and more have all gone digital. It wasn’t because of me, but instead, it was because of hope. We hope the world will resume so we can reach out and hug our friends, we hope we can go back to the gym, the stores, the restaurants. We hope we can be social once again. Above that, we hope that we can continue to live our lives while inside our home, social distancing, removed from the world… and that includes doing Jewish.

Life did not stop, it changed. We are scared, but we are hopeful. We are praying for those who contracted the virus, and we are hopeful they will heal, that the bereaved find comfort, that our family and friends stay safe, and that we are safe.

We are resilient, and hopeful. May the curve flatten, may our businesses recover, and may we be able to travel, socialize, receive education, pray, etc, in person. May I have the opportunity to say to Emmett, “Back when you were a very little baby, we dealt with something called coronavirus, and it was awful, but look how wonderful the world is now.”

May you wake up tomorrow filled with hope. Please know, I’m here for you as your cantor and your friend. While I’m trying to check in with each of you, feel free to reach out if you need anything at all.

Chazak, chazak v’nitchazek… be strong, be strong, and we will be strengthened.

The Difference a Year Makes

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / Leave a comment

A year ago today, I went to preschool to sing with my favorite kiddos in the Kantor ECEC, and then headed to the Fertility Center of Las Vegas, for an embryo transfer with genius Dr. Bruce Shapiro for our 2nd of 3 healthy embryos (after the prior summers first embryo transfer ended in miscarriage).

We arrived at the doctor a ball of nerves and excitement. The incredible Dr. Sharon Roth met us there to give me pre and post transfer acupuncture. After the pre acupuncture, I waited (with a full bladder) in the waiting room to be called in for the procedure. After 45 minutes, I approached the front desk and reminded them that they asked me to have a full bladder, but I could not wait much longer. They told me to wait five minutes and Dr. Shapiro came out and asked us to come back to the meeting room. I knew something was wrong. He explained that after defrosting our second embryo, he did not like how it looked and was nervous it would not end in a successful pregnancy. He gave us a choice, wait until morning and see if the embryo looks better, or move on and defrost our third and final embryo.

Many tears and much uncertainty followed, but we chose to try our chance with our last but not least embryo. (That second embryo was still saved until morning, but did not survive 😢). The Chazzband and I walked down the street to grab a smoothie while the embryo was prepared. (I had to refill my bladder, after all!) We spoke at length about “What’s next if this does not work?” What if this embryo does not look right, does not lead to pregnancy, or ends in miscarriage again? Would either of us be able to start from scratch with IVF, and bear the financial and emotional weight of the last year? In his wisdom, the Chazzband said, “Let’s just stay positive that this works.”

The office called to tell us the embryo looked great and we were ready for transfer. Fast forward to February 27th, 2020, and Emmett Robert Hutchings, named for his great grandparents Sidney and Roseann Entin and Robert Hutchings, is almost 4 months old, loves music, smiling, grabbing objects (especially Ima’s long red hair), reading books, and his family. He is a miracle, a rainbow baby, and so darn cute. The shayna-ist punim I’ve ever seen!

I find numbers to be a bit b’sheret (meant to be). The egg was retrieved on my mom’s birthday (5/19/18) and the embryo transferred on my dad’s (2/27/19)… I did not choose this, but I do not think it was coincidence either. Emmett says, “Happy birthday, Grandpa Jeff!”

Never stop believing in miracles, always have hope, and never doubt what is possible. Emmett is proof of that.

Be Happy, It’s Adar! Have a Happy Purim, all!

(Picture of the birthday party my friends had for me last year, when he had to break at 7PM to shoot me with IVF hormones in the bathroom. It takes a village! Compared to now, our little bundle we received after quite a journey.)

Torah

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 1 Comment

Today, my son reached out his arm (could have been his knee, I’m not quite sure) and touched the Torah.

While standing by the ark, the Rabbi and I posed for pictures with the 5th grade class at their naming ceremony.

We smiled with the students as their parents proudly captured the moment. I dreamed of one day, soon, being one of those parents and giving my child a name that connects him to generations of peoplehood…

Suddenly, while clutching the nearly 500 year old Czech Holocaust surviving scroll, I felt Baby Hutchings reach out and touch it.

He is just about ready to greet the world and be part of the chain. Now, all that stands between him and the crown of Torah… is me.

Keyn y’hi ratzon.

When the Balloon Pops

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 3 Comments

You know that moment when everything is sincerely going great, and for a moment, you’re actually not thinking about the things in life that are difficult?

It’s an awesome moment when life is a rainbow, and you’re so happy to be right where you are….

Then… the balloon pops.

Someone says something that deflates and shrinks you to a point of weakness.

This infertility journey is one where that balloon pops often.

I’ve discovered these last few months that people don’t know what to say. It’s our human nature to want to comfort others. With that goal in mind, many people think saying something they think might be helpful… and it’s often the opposite of comforting.

How can we be more sensitive and mindful when speaking to our loved ones experiencing infertility?

Let’s look at three real examples from this past week:

1. Via text: “Look at these adorable pictures of my new niece!” ~Balloon pop 🎈

I realize others may not agree on this one, but in this moment, I have a tinge of sadness every time I see a very little baby. It won’t always be this way, but it’s still raw.

We (the women struggling with loss and infertility) are happy for your new addition. Really! We are genuinely so excited for your family, wholeheartedly, even as we struggle to build our own. We are not saying we don’t want to see pictures of infants, we do live in the world and see them everyday, but we don’t need to be blasted with intentional reminders from loved ones. Please just ask first if we want to see photos of new babies in your life. Somedays, it’s going to be great and somedays hard to see.

2. Cornered at a work event: “I’ve been wanting to tell you my own struggle, you never returned my messages about this.” Then they go on to tell you how they were 40 when they gave birth and they had this struggle and that. Then promise you will also be successful. ~Balloon Pop 🎈

There’s a lot here, let’s break it down.

A. It’s incredibly distracting to corner someone while they are working and focused.

B. While I am an exception because in my work, it is my great honor to accompany, lend an ear, and be a source of spiritual strength for my community, I’m not most people. If this person was sharing their story with me as a healing moment for them, all good. I’m here for you. Let’s talk about YOUR fertility. Anytime. Sincerely. Most people, however, will not find strength in your struggle. At least not in their moment of loss. Therefore, it’s better that you don’t share unless they express interest.

C. I never returned your message because it was days following my miscarriage, and I wasn’t ready. I haven’t brought it up because I wasn’t sure it would be helpful to hear it. I didn’t know how to tell you that.

D. Thank you for your encouragement and certainty in my future, but none of us know the future. I choose to live in the today, full of hope, not looking back or ahead. It’s how I’m coping, and actually, it’s going very well!

3. At the oneg following services: “Cantor, there is a rumor going around.. and I heard you’re pregnant, Mazal Tov!” ~Balloon pop 🎈

Oy va VOY!! No! This happened two weeks ago in religious school. One of the students thought it would be funny to start this rumor in his class. He’s been curious about babies, and he’s a little boy who did not know better. He’s a child. I expect this from children. From a grown adult… just… facepalm. Punch me in the stomach, why don’t you?

Maybe it’s the hormones I’m being pumped with, but like a deer in headlights, I gave this person a dead stare and said, “It is NEVER okay to ask a woman that.”

I think I embarrassed this person, and I am truly sorry because it wasn’t my intention.

But… seriously? Did you just say that? If I was, it would be my business to share. If I look like it, but am not, why draw attention to it? (Did I mention being pumped with hormones?!) You KNOW I just had a miscarriage so why on earth would you even go there? Just… oy. That’s all. Don’t ask. Ever. Never. Not even to a person nine months pregnant. Never.

Look, I love each of these people. They are dear to me. They did nothing wrong. I’m the broken one (although I’ve healed so much!), and all that we, the aspiring mothers, are asking for is a little sensitivity. If you love a person who is in this position, just think before you speak.

Just be there for us, and help us inflate the balloon of joy, fulfillment, and hope for the future.

Your presence is all the support we need.

Shavua tov!

Emerging

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 3 Comments

I am not the person I was a month ago.

In the past, I’ve felt myself bend… sometimes really far… but it wasn’t until September 12th, 2018 at 8am, that I broke in two.

Today is the shloshim of finding out that my unborn child had no heartbeat. Yeah… yeah… I’m aware that I cannot mourn because s/he never drew breath. This fact doesn’t negate that we still experienced a tremendous loss, that I’ve been holding onto it quite tight.

Each passing day brings an ounce of healing. Jumping back into cantorial duties… getting back into the world… keeping up my exercise routine… enjoying the company of friends… it’s all helped.

Knowing I needed a ritual to help me move forward, my clergy partner suggested that I do something both physical and spiritual to officially cleanse myself of this experience.

Mikveh.

For the past several years, I have been the mikveh angel for others… shepherding amazing women as they choose Judaism and complete that part of their journey with mikveh.

Today, I went to the mikveh for myself. I did it to regain wholeness, and find solace in the loss.

My hope was to immerse broken and emerge whole, I prayed to God.

(Thanks to my colleagues at Temple Beth Shalom, the mikveh was available just for me this morning. I’m so appreciative for their kindness.)

After walking in, the door closed behind me and I physically prepared myself by taking out my contacts, off my jewelry, my nails and toes were bare of polish… all the boxes checked so that I could submerge “Just Jess”.

I placed a ceremony I had written for myself at the edge of the bath.

Slowly, I stepped into the water.

I stood there and dipped once. As I went under the water, my heart raced and tears fills my eyes. The water burned in my throat as I chased back the tears.

I spoke the words of blessing for mikveh, and dipped again.

This time, I spoke words straight from my heart… Honestly, I told God that I was angry, and I wasn’t giving up.

My voice was heard. I know it.

I dipped a third time and wanted to say shehecheyanu for my life and getting through surgery after the loss… but it was difficult to praise The Holy One for bringing me to this moment when I was supposed to be in this moment 12 weeks pregnant. Here I am alive, and this moment is real. This moment will lead to the next moment… one with hope and healing. So… shehecheyanu.

Feeling myself one with the water was special, meditative, emotional, and most importantly… cleansing.

As I walked out of the pool of water, I felt a sense of soul healing… a force nudging me to move forward.

Today, I emerge changed, filled with hope, and ready to begin again.

You will always be the life that lived in me. We will always remember you.

The Healing

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 5 Comments

After a long Friday…

Waiting, being poked, staring at symbolic crosses (side effect of a St. Rose hospital), shedding some tears and being asked my name, birthday and drug allergies a minimum of six times…

I’m on the other side… a place where the closure and healing can finally take place.

First, a thank you to my OB, anesthesiologist, and nurses for getting me through a quick D&C procedure, easy waking, and the lemon italian ice.

I’m feeling punched in the gut, quite literally. It’s a scary thought when the urge to pee comes… just think millions of 🔥 knives poking you down there. I’m being brave, and not taking the narcotics because frankly I don’t like the way they make me feel.

But all in all, I’m counting my blessings, because I’m okay. We’re okay.

Propped up on the couch, next to my better half and our ridiculous rainbow eared dog, watching Netflix, and eating cinnamon sugar skinny pop puffs.

My emotions have surprisingly leveled out. I cried upon waking because I knew it was permanently gone.

Now, however, I’m looking towards the future and trying again. The chazzband is too.

SIDE-NOTE: A huge shoutout of love to my sister who took me to pre-op, and made sure I had painkillers and antibiotics when I arrived home, and is just always my person, to the moon and back. My parents for giving me the space I needed and always being great support. Mom, I know I pushed you away… I won’t do that again.

My sis-in-laws for understanding when I had to miss the bachelorette but still making sure I was distracted and shown the love of my nieces and nephew, at the exact right time.

My amazing orthodontist and wonderful congregants/friends who sent over gorgeous flowers that did put a huge smile on my face and brought scents of happiness back into our home.

My congregants, assistant, and clergy partner.. thanks for checking in and showing us your love.

The most sincere thanks to Lori, Sheryl, Karin and Glori for giving me the time to heal by filling in for services. It is literally the most beautiful gift, we are blessed at CNT for you and all of our lay leaders who fill in during our absence from the pulpit.

To my amazing tribe of friends who have carefully checked in and provided frozen yogurt, sushi, babka, honey cakes, challot, and anything else tasty that we’ve consumed in the last couple weeks or are yet to consume today… you know me well…I’m a super typical Jew when it comes to food=comfort.

Last, and most importantly, my chazzband, for holding my hand the whole way through… and making sure I knew we were going through this pain together…. I sure wish you could take the pain of peeing right now! 😂

This blog wasn’t meant to be a giant speech of thank yous… but as I wrote them out, I saw even more-so how very lucky I am to be surrounded by a cushion of love.

We need our community. It’s that simple.

Don’t feel the need to experience this alone. It is NOTHING to be ashamed of. It happens to too many of us. There are questions, concerns, and hugs that need reception.

My voice is not simply a journal for my thoughts alone, but also a platform to echo yours.

These are life’s waves. You’re not riding them alone.

After the sun sets into Shabbat tonight, we will begin to enter in the season of harvest and giving thanks to the Holy One.

The OG Thanksgiving.

Just a few days ago, the idea of Sukkot had no meaning to me. Why would I shake the lulav when I was missing the core, my etrog, my heart?

BUT. Isn’t it funny that a few days ago, while working through those feelings, it wasn’t Sukkot, it was Yom Kippur. As difficult as it was, also kind of perfect to plead so acutely with our Maker.

I opened up my entire self and not only chanted, but also cleaved, Avinu Malkeinu, HEAR OUR PRAYER, hear my prayer, answer me WHY?! Tears and all.

Today, closure, tonight, the rest that is Shabbat, and the day after, the holiday that opens the door for strength, hope, shelter, and gratitude. A Chag reminding us that life is a growing and flowing, and all situations temporary. Just as the Israelites lived in their Sukkot…. wandering… for a long time… it was all still temporary.

Life’s symmetry. The universe’s way of righting wrongs. For everything there is a season and a reason.

It hurts and doesn’t make sense now, but it will.

For this I pray.

May your Shabbat be beautiful, comforting, and peaceful. Bless your children, for they are a miracle. Take time to show gratitude for all that is miraculous and wonderful in your life.

May we all be able to see our many gifts in this life.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sukkot Sameach, Z’man Simchateinu.

Broken

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 12 Comments

Disclaimer: If you’re not in for something upsetting, don’t continue to read on. If you’re ready to read a raw reality, forge ahead.

I was pregnant.

I am pregnant.

But…

The fetus is not growing.

Next week, I have to undergo a D&C (dilation and curettage) and have it removed from my body.

Until then, I have to carry around hopelessness, grief, anger, and lost potential inside my physical and emotional self for 8 days.

Why the wait?

Well, I’m busy serving God, as the klay kodesh (holy vessel) of my people during these Holy Days… Can’t think of anything more messed up than this reality. Never did I ever think this could be my reality. I knew it was possible, but I didn’t want to believe that while I’m serving the Holy One, I’m also getting punched in the gut, repeatedly.

My right mind knows that bad things happen to good people. You, the Creator, are not responsible for this. You are our strength, comfort, and surrender in these times… but I can’t help and be pissed and disappointed… and You, the Master of the Universe, while I don’t blame You, You are not exempt from my feelings.

We’ve been through enough. It took almost 3 years to conceive this baby. We did everything and more that was asked of us. We prayed. We dreamed. We hoped. We also injected thousands of dollars in drugs, underwent multiple tests and procedures, and put every emotion and aspiration into it.

I thought, I’ve been given the gift of infertility to help better comfort others who are struggling.

A miscarriage too? Really? I couldn’t have been empathetic without losing my own baby?

It’s going to take me a while.

It’s insanely unfathomable to have to serve in my role at this, the holiest, most heart opening time of the year. Somehow, I’ll stand tall and be there for my community. It’s not just my job, it’s my life.

So is life… it’s not perfect. It’s not always sunny. This is the dark side. This is where you see the human side of your clergy. We can understand where you are coming from because, as you can see, we are just like you.

Many of you have been and continue to be sensitive and understanding. You have asked what you can do. Please know how much we appreciate your love and concern.

While we cannot say Kaddish for an unborn child, what we do need is time to process, reflect, and navigate a different reality.

What I need is space.

Please don’t ask how I am, try to hug me, or call (I’m not answering). I’m terrible, and I don’t want to cry anymore. I appreciate your concern, please don’t pity me. I’m not going to ask for anything, but please know how much I appreciate the sustenance and support that my family and friends have offered and brought over.

Please understand that emails are not being answered for the next few days and your needs may need to be met by my clergy partner.

Please realize this is a loss for my family. My chazzband is also struggling and needs some space.

Please know, this is not a misdiagnosis, we’ve seen the same scans for two weeks. So, please don’t suggest it. It actually makes it worse.

This is real, not harsh. This is how we cope.

We will survive this. We will move forward. We will try again. We will be parents… soon.

As for the Days of Atonement… let this be the worst one we ever have to experience, and let it soon be in the rear view mirror.

For my transgressions, I sincerely apologize. Truly.

May we all be sealed for a wonderful year.

May our fast not be easy, but instead, meaningful.

May we all have a fruitful 5779.

Broken but not alone.

Roller Coaster

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 3 Comments

First of all, apologies for my last post. It was most certainly real and raw… but it was reflecting a headspace I’m not often in.

When I’m on these hormones it reminds of that old Zoloft commercial with the face that’s walking around, being followed by a dark and rainy cloud filled with doom and gloom.

Happily, once they kicked up my estrogen, my endo lining measured a 7, and I was able to start progesterone oil shots and stay somewhat on track for transfer.

After an early morning blood test, I learned this morning that my hormones are doing great and we are ready to have our microscopic embryo implanted on Tuesday!

The reality is, I’m more swollen and bloated from these drugs than I’d ever imagined. 7-days a week workouts and eating right makes me feel like a hamster running it it’s wheel… I can’t combat the gain hormones creating. Its uncomfortable, and definitely taking its toll on me, mentally. Just trying to go back to that headspace that says, “You’re beautiful regardless of what the scale says, keep taking care of yourself, you’re doing this for a much higher purpose.” If the hormones are doing this to help me create the healthiest womb… so be it. I know how to rock the curves!

Hoping the other side effect subsides soon. Insomnia that triggers panic in the middle of the night… no fun. This girl needs her beauty rest!

I may post again on transfer day, but then you won’t hear from me for 51 days… ish. That’s when it’s safe to report if it’s taken… or what my plans are if it has not.

In the meantime, I’m meditating, praying, and celebrating every moment life throws my way. Overjoyed to have spent the morning watching a young man enter his Jewish adulthood and ascend the Torah as a Bar Mitzvah, tutored by my baby sister (which also made me very proud!). These are the moments that remind me everything has a purpose, every moment counts, and I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

This journey may be a roller coaster, but I am grateful to be on the ride.

#shavuatov #infertility #pcos #ivf #journey #journeyofthesincitycantor

🥚 All the Eggs 🥚

/ Cantor Jessica Hutchings / 9 Comments

For 14 long days, we’ve been feeding my eggs chemicals called gonal-f, cetrotide, and menopur via scary needles. I say scary because I’ve hated needles since birth.

Today, is Thursday. In Jewish text, B’reishit, Genesis, the narrative teaches that God mentions other days of the week as being good, and on Yom Hashishi (the sixth day, which begins Thursday when the sun sets) it is VERY good.

וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים אֶת-כָּל-אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה, וְהִנֵּה-טוֹב מְאֹד; וַיְהִי-עֶרֶב וַיְהִי-בֹקֶר, יוֹם הַשִּׁשִּׁי

And God saw every thing that He had made, and, behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

There is a lot of rabbinic commentary on this line. Basically, mankind was created on day 6, therefore what was once a fine world transformed illuminated by new life created in God’s image…  Hmmm… sounds like my week is lining up with that one. Well, sort of.

Today, in preparation for the setting sun towards a VERY good day, Yom hashishi, my eggs are finally ready for retrieval. New life is almost created. I can feel it. It is tov m’od, verygood.

Retrieval was supposed to be Tuesday… Then Wednesday, then Friday… back-back-back it was pushed because my follicles weren’t ready. A cancelled vacation, a frustrated and emotionally charged self, and a husband who didn’t want to give his wife one more injection… I was feeling like if I wasn’t measuring up today, I never would be. But I am!

Tonight, we switch from the usual meds to one final shot… Lupron. 34 hours after I’m injected tonight, the 32 follicles in my ovaries will be pierced with a needle, and hopefully, beautiful eggs will be retrieved and mixed with the swimmers to create an embryo. (If this makes you a little queasy like it does me, don’t worry, they put me out for this!) It’s science meets God’s will. It’s sci fi and awesome.

These last 2 weeks have been a challenge. The injections left me exhausted, with a constant headache, and more bloated than I had ever been (it’s what happens when the follicles enlarge in the ovaries.)

Halfway through, my Poppy (grandpa), passed away. It became necessary that I go to Florida to support my dad and honor Poppy’s memory. I packed my meds in ice, and thankfully have the most incredible sister, who watched youtube instructionals to prepare to stab me. We got off the airplane, late for the shot, found a companion bathroom in the aiport, and setup IVF shop. Never did I ever think I would be injected with drugs in an aiport bathroom… there is a first time for everything.

Multiple ultra sounds and blood draws later, I’m finally ready.

This Shabbatis going to be a very very good one.