ritual

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.

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.