The Evacuation of Sid the Cyst

Surgery is over!!! The new women's hospital is absolutely beautiful. It's where I want to deliver our child (when I was fixed on having a home birth and Nicole was terrified at the concept, I had told her this hospital would be a way to compromise) so it gave me great comfort when I was told my surgery would be there. They have an entire floor for gynecological surgery and it's a new building with beautiful amenities. Beautiful cozy waiting areas, plants, modern tiling, a cushy chair with a footrest for me to wait in, and just a handful of beds per area so you have a lot of privacy and nurse attention. As soon as I passed by the beautiful tree that looks like a synagogue's tree of life, the only decoration in a long hallway, I knew I would be okay. It also didn't hurt that the first nurse to attend to me, a scrappy, cheerful middle-aged woman with a big personality, had the same uncommon name as my mother. I was comforted and reassured without anyone needing to do so for me.

I tried to focus on each step one at a time rather than the larger picture so I wouldn't begin to get anxious, but when I was led into the OR and it looked just like on TV, I started to freak out. There were about five or six people in scrubs prepping in different areas, machines going, and all kinds of sterile-looking equipment. The idea that all these people were in here to knock me out, open me up, and operate on me was suddenly pretty terrifying. I lied down as instructed and both my doctor and the young resident who'd introduced himself earlier were right by me. The resident must have seen the fear in my eyes as everyone else just flew about (I imagine still being new to it all makes you more sensitive to that), and he squeezed my thigh with a smile and said, "Don't worry, we're going to take really good care of you." Well that's all it took for the tears to start rolling, and he tried to distract and comfort me by having me talk about other things. And meanwhile, my Finnish surgeon, whom I'd only known so far to be pretty stern and matter-of-fact, smiled warmly as she used gauze to wipe the tears out of the corners of my eyes. Then the mask went on with the blessed gas and that was all she wrote.

I had no idea that my cyst ended up being a rare, disgusting type (dermoid - don't look it up while eating) that is soft and falls apart so it took two extra hours for the surgeon to take it out piece by piece. I had no idea that my asthma complicated things during recovery and that I had all kinds of machinery monitoring my oxygen levels while Nicole wondered why I had still not woken up. I didn't know that the surgeon came out beaming to Nicole to tell her that the cyst was the only issue and that I have a beautiful, healthy reproductive system. I just remember hearing someone calling my name, telling me to wake up, and me rasping (from the tube down my throat), "Nicole" a few times til they understood what I was asking for and brought her to me for just a few seconds before rushing her back out.

They almost admitted me because I couldn't keep my oxygen levels up. They had me on some very strong drug that they almost never give out, but had because I seemed to be in such pain after surgery despite whatever else they had given me. This drug kept me knocked out, and every time I started to fade back out, I would make crazy moaning sounds as I struggled to breathe and the machine would beep, warning that my oxygen levels had dipped below 90 again. I would whimper, "Oh no, I failed again, they're never going to let me go home!" and then try valiantly to stay awake and breathe in deeply for long enough that they'd release me, before inevitably fading back out again.

Those kind nurses stayed for an hour and a half after the unit was supposed to close in order to try to stabilize me and get me home, where I made the mistake of taking the prescribed extra-strength Motrin and spending all night struggling to breathe again. Apparently I DO have a medication allergy.

I tried to eat at home, since I had been on a liquid diet all day Thursday and then had had nothing to eat or drink on Friday, but even homemade chicken soup made me feel nauseous. I tried to eat a biscuit, thinking something bland would be better, but my mouth was so dry that it was like chewing paste so I had to stop. I gave up and went to sleep.

As much pain as I was in and as hard as it was to breathe, move, do anything, I have such a sweet memory of that first night. I stayed on the couch downstairs, and Nicole made a bed out of blankets on the floor next to me so she could watch my breathing and help me if I needed to get up to use the bathroom. We had Shabbat candles burning on the mantel. Our cat Lily curled up on top of her cat tree, and Jack curled up on one of Nicole's blankets. It was like a little family slumber party.

Nicole has been an amazing nurse to me. She has gotten me everything I needed, sponge bathed me at the kitchen sink, held me when I cried from pain after standing up, has taken on all of the household chores without complaint, and has just been so sweet and affectionate.

She has also been taken into the grip of baby fever. The idea of me going into surgery had been scary enough to her for her to not be able to think of the long-term goal very much. Babies were inextricably linked to the idea of her wife going under the knife. Now that it's behind us, she keeps reminding me that we need to ask at my post-op how soon we can start trying. She is so excited and that has ME so excited and now there is no one to rein us in!!

Surgery Week and the Urge to Fast Forward

I'm exhausted and anxious, so I intend to make this a quick and to-the-point post just to keep documenting my journey.

I went Friday for presurgical testing, which was basically just a physical to ensure it's safe for me to undergo surgery. Apparently this is something PCP's can do, and since I ended up having to go there anyway for follow-up on my continued slightly elevated blood pressure, I wish someone had told me that and offered me the option of making my own appointment at my PCP. Instead, after my surgery was scheduled, I was just informed when and where to go for my presurgical appointment.

So they took tons of blood, took down a family history, checked my vitals. They did an EKG since my blood pressure was elevated. A half hour or more later, they told me to make an appointment with my PCP to get clearance to undergo surgery with the high blood pressure. Um...it's the Friday before Christmas, my surgery is next Friday, and you want me to go when exactly?? In a practice with five or six doctors, there was only one appointment available Christmas week, and that was Monday, December 23, at 7:00 PM. I already had a 3:15 appointment in Long Island for follow-up X-rays on my foot, and then had to hobble into Manhattan on my broken foot for a 7PM appointment with my PCP. I was dreading Monday!!

My PCP was not worried about my blood pressure for surgery and said getting clearance from a PCP with a full medical history on me is just protocol. She said it's a low-risk surgery, and I'm in a relatively low-risk demographic even with my "obesity, prediabetes, and high blood pressure." Gar. She said she is more worried about pregnancy with my health than she is about surgery. She said, "Surgery will be fine. Don't worry about Friday. But you need to worry about pregnancy. Drop some weight." I know she's right. My sister had similar blood pressure issues before pregnancy and I'm watching her deal with the complications. I'm not going to be able to fix everything in a few months, but if I make some changes and lose some of this extra weight I've put on in the past few years, I know there will be a change in some of those numbers. I can only be in better shape for being healthier, even if I'm still somewhat at risk.

So she gave me the clearance and I hobbled back home. Now I anxiously await tomorrow's bowel cleanse in preparation for surgery. This includes two enemas, drinking a bottle of magnesium citrate, and being on a liquid diet. Then I can't eat or drink anything past 11:00 PM for surgery the next day. So I will pretty much be STARVING by the time I'm recovering Friday evening.

I'm trying to do what I did in graduate school when I started to panic and feel overwhelmed with deadlines for major research papers. I'd focus on the task at hand and try to get through it, but part of me also had to be dissociating a bit and looking forward, thinking, "No matter what happens, in ___ days this will all be over." I'm keeping my eye on Friday night, which is not that far away, because even if I'm in pain, it will all be over! Then I will have the longer road ahead of getting my body into better health in order for us to stay on target with trying to conceive in a few months.

Keeping My Eyes on the Prize

As I waited patiently for my next period to come so I could call and schedule surgery, after being denied it when I called during the last one, life decided to throw me a small curveball in the form of tripping down my basement steps and breaking my foot. I actually only tripped down one step. I was carrying several shopping bags and couldn't see in front of me and thought I was at the floor level when really I had one more step to go. So I stepped forward and just fell, my poor lateral left foot taking the brunt of the accident.

Nicole said I never cry, so that's how she knew something was really wrong. Well, to be more accurate, I cry at the drop of a hat when it comes to emotional triggers, but am pretty stoic with physical pain and discomfort. Not that I don't feel it, I'm just used to handling it internally and am not so expressive about it. So when Nicole saw me crying and unmoving on the floor of the basement after she heard the thud, she told me I really should stay home and ice and elevate my foot. I protested, much as I did in 5th grade when I got hit in the head with a baseball bat and was devastated when my father showed up to take me home. Stoic, I tell you. Or maybe stubborn. But when I touched my foot in preparation to put on my rain boots, it was so tender that I winced, and I agreed to stay home. When it didn't get any better in the next hour or so, Nicole offered to come home from work and take me to urgent care, where x-rays revealed a clean and complete fracture of my fifth metatarsal. An orthopedist visit followed, where I was put in a boot and instructed not to go to work and to stay off my feet for at least two weeks, when I will come in for more x-rays and a re-evaluation.

My devastation was twofold. First, I worried that this might interfere with my ability to get surgery for yet another month, and I am just so done with dragging this out. However, many people have since told me that it should not be a barrier, as it would be mostly healed by then and I am not on any pain medication.

Second and more upsetting is that I have been working for years to accrue the maximum amount of paid leave I can have for maternity leave. We don't get any paid maternity leave, but can take up to six months off with our position guaranteed upon our return, so I want to take as much paid time as I can. This means having my annual vacation of five weeks, two vacation weeks I can roll over, my "sick bank" which is maxed out at five weeks, my regular accrued sick time which is maxed out at five weeks, and one week of emergency time. This comes to a grand total of 18 weeks paid. I have worked very hard to get to this. I have been a miser with how much vacation time I will take for any given event,  making sure for the past two years that I keep two weeks to roll over, never knowing for sure which year will be "the year." I have been using my sick time very sparingly so that it has time to renew. And now I'm dipping into it for a stupid, preventable foot injury.

I know that I need to follow doctor's orders so that I heal properly and am not followed by this for the rest of my life. I know this. But if I have anything less than 18 paid weeks to take off with my new baby, I am going to be heartbroken. That's not much time as it is. If I could afford to, I would be taking off the first two or three years!

I started my period while in South Carolina this weekend visiting my family. I called the clinic Friday and attempted to schedule my surgery, which should happen between the eight and tenth day of my cycle. The eight day would be this Thursday, and the ninth would be Friday. The tenth would be unavailable because it's a weekend. So apparently my doctor felt that it was too risky to schedule for Thursday, that I might still be on my period since it lasts seven to eight days. So she scheduled me for the following Friday, December 27, and stated I would need to get on the birth control pill to prevent me from ovulating before then. (Why didn't she just do this last month when she couldn't schedule me within that ideal time frame, instead of making me wait another month just to end up in the same predicament??) I was told that I needed to start the pill no later than Monday night for it to work this cycle, and that I would need to get a pregnancy test and a blood pressure reading before they would prescribe it. So Monday, with just a couple hours before we needed to be on the road to the airport, I was at a CVS Minute Clinic peeing in a cup for a pregnancy test that was pointless in a same-sex relationship and then picking up a prescription for birth control.

Birth control. I haven't been on it since I was 22. I spent that New Year's of 2005/2006 in a hospital bed after having surgery for second degree burns on both my hands. I begged for a new round of birth control pills rather than starting the placebos so that I wouldn't have to get my period while my mother was tending to my every physical need. The hospital either wouldn't do this or didn't do it in time, or maybe I was too groggy to remember to follow up. I didn't bother taking the placebos while I was recovering and drugged up on pain medications, and I just never started back up with the pill.

I told my boyfriend of six years that I had been ambivalent about it for the past year, knowing that the risks get higher the longer you're on it (at 22 I'd been on it five years already, and the risks increase at ten). I'd also become much more natural-minded in general the past couple of years and didn't like the idea of messing with my body's natural rhythms. It hadn't sat right with me for many months, and I felt so good about coming off of it and restoring my body's natural processes. My boyfriend was a little upset, as he had never wanted to use condoms, and I told him he'd have to figure that out, that I was not putting my body through all this for the very rare sex we had while I was going to school in New York and he was still in South Carolina. I was tired of the burden and the effects all landing on me. It was an empowering decision, and for a long time I loved getting my period every month knowing it was a REAL period, knowing that I was likely ovulating as I should be.

And now at 30, in a same-sex relationship and wanting to conceive a child, I am going back on it. Oh the irony.

I shuddered as I took that first pill and just reminded myself of the end goal - not just a baby, but a family. Then today I remembered suddenly around 11:00 that I had to go take another. I panicked for a bit at the thought that I'd almost forgotten. And immediately hated that I was eager to suppress ovulation. It just feels so against what I want to be doing right now!

Then this afternoon I started feeling nauseous. I was thinking about how terrible it would be if I'm sick for this surgery, or even for the presurgical testing I have to go in for this Friday. Then as Nicole dished out dinner, the smell of the roasted potatoes made me feel nauseous even as my stomach rumbled with hunger. I was bewildered; how could I be well enough to be hungry but feel so turned off at the thought of food? That's when it hit me. I remembered that this is a side effect of the pill, and it kind of made me angry. I'm not feeling sick because a bug got me, and certainly not because something beautiful is happening inside my body. I'm feeling sick because I'm giving myself hormones and messing with my system. Ughhhhh.

To keep my spirits up, I just have to look forward. I have to picture that in a month I will be off this thing again, and that my body will be cleaned up and ready to grow life. I won't be discouraged. You're worth it.

Patiently Waiting

Last month I went to an appointment with my fertility doctor to discuss my surgery. This was how it was presented to me, that I should come in to discuss and plan the surgery now that my sonogram results were in. I expected it to just be a conversation. However, as soon as the doctor called me back, she told me to go ahead and empty my bladder so they could do one more transvaginal sonogram. I deflated. AGAIN? This would be my fourth time being invaded in stirrups in five or six weeks, and was it really necessary or were they just wanting a little something extra to bill my insurance company for? I asked what the reason was, and she said that she wanted to confirm the cyst was still there because it would be pointless to discuss and schedule surgery if not. I vividly recalled her saying on the phone that my cyst was 7cm and that anything over 5cm is not likely to just go away on its own. So I said, "Is that really a possibility? That it would have just disappeared in two weeks?" She said, "It's very unlikely, but stranger things have happened and we should just make sure before planning surgery." Okay...

She took several pictures and then we met in her office where she showed me the cyst in the photos. She said that because of its positioning, all you can see is black where the cyst is and you can't tell whether it's on the ovary or on the tube. I get that, but when she did the initial sonogram on October 11, she referred me to a radiologist for more extensive sonography precisely because she wanted to be able to determine this. So I'm not sure why that 20-minute tense exercise was necessary if it seemingly didn't give her any more clarity than she had from the initial one! I'd now had THREE transvaginal sonograms over the course of a month only to hear the same thing: "Yep, that's a big cyst, but it's hard to say what exactly it's on." I'm trying really hard to be patient and to remember that I'm not the expert here, that I'm not a medical professional, but I was already becoming a little disillusioned with the medical industry and it hadn't even been a month into our journey!

She then talked to me about the different possibilities of what could be going on in my body and what they would do in each scenario. She used a little model uterus that showed all kinds of fertility issues and pointed at it to help me understand. If the cyst is on my ovary, they will just remove it. If it's on my tube, they will remove it but will need to check out the tube. If my tube is engorged, they will remove it completely, or if there is scarring, they will just sever it. Basically if it is engorged, it is drawing fluid off the uterus (I assume this is all due to the cyst) and that would make a pregnancy difficult to "take." So the egg may be fertilized, but the embryo may not be able to attach or stay attached. She asked if I was okay with all of these scenarios and the plan, and I said yes. Honestly what it came down to is us starting a family. That's the bigger picture. Bigger even than pregnancy or a baby. I want family and this is the most direct and affordable route (within the fidelity of our marriage, anyway!) so I want optimal conditions for making that happen. I don't want to set myself up for disappointment and failure because the idea of having something REMOVED FROM MY BODY is freaking me out a little.

The surgery will be laparascopic, and they will do everything they can while they're in there to set me up for success. She will check me out for endometriosis and clean me out if that's an issue. She will put something in my uterus transvaginally (breaching the cervix?? *hyperventilates*) to check for polyps and remove those if they're in there. Basically she will do/check for anything that can only be done this way while she's in there to make maximum use of an invasive procedure. The recovery is about a week. I will probably feel fine before that, but my post-op exam will be in a week and I shouldn't go to work before that.

Now to schedule it. Scheduling has been a nightmare! Everything depends on where I am in my cycle which means a lot of patient waiting. It would be ideal to remove the cyst while I'm on my period (not sure why), but because they will be going into my uterus to look around too, they want me to be off my period. So she instructed me to call as soon as I got my next period and they would schedule it for eight to ten days after that. If she was booked up at that time and had to wait, say, three weeks, she would put me on the birth control pill to halt my cycle until she can get to me. I wasn't thrilled about that, but if that's the only way you can do something that requires such precise planning, I am keeping my eye on the prize and sucking up a lot.

So I waited for my period, which was due around November 20. I was hoping it would not come late because I am going to visit my family in South Carolina on December 12 and wanted the surgery and recovery to be behind me by then. If it cut it too close, I'd have to put it off for another cycle, and I'm just so eager to get this moving. I was thrilled to start my period on Saturday, November 16, and I waited anxiously until Monday morning to call and schedule. I was told the scheduler was out that day (no one can schedule surgery in her absence??) so I had to wait another day and called her on Tuesday. I was now on Day 4 already. She told me that the OR was booked next week because of Thanksgiving (I'm assuming she means it's understaffed that week so they can do fewer surgeries) so we should just wait until my next cycle.

My heart absolutely sank. I said, "What about the plan to put me on the pill til the doctor can get to me?" She said with great sympathy, "I know it's frustrating, but she doesn't want to do that if she can avoid it, so we should really just wait." I said, "Okay, but my next one would be due with a Day 8 or 10 landing Christmas week, so wouldn't the same problem arise?" She said, "No, I promise you we will book you." How can she promise that? If the doctor's schedule is full or the OR is full, what can she do about it? I really, really don't want to wait yet another month!!

I should be getting my next period right before I leave for SC, which would make Days 8 to 10 land right around when we get back. This is not ideal work-wise since I will just be coming back from vacation and it would mean my recovery would run into Christmas, which is a tough time for coverage at the office. But I am making it happen. We are actually seriously planning on aiming for February for our first attempt at conception, and we can't even plan that until this is taken care of. No, it won't be the end of the world if we have to push it off a month or two. But I have been aching for our child for two years now, and Nicole is really on board now which makes me want to leap!

One thing at a time, though. I waited every day to get my period in order to go for the first sonogram, then waited every day to get my next one to try to schedule the surgery, and now am waiting every day to try again! This is excruciating. I generally enjoy the torturous anticipation of a gift or vacation or special event - but we don't know what is on the other side of this yet, which makes the waiting less enjoyable! I just want to know what we're up against and get started.

Our hearts are ready to welcome you into our lives, little baby, but I have to make sure your nesting place is healthy and safe and ready to go. Soon!!!

My First Hanukkah - Creating Our Own Traditions

Last year at Hanukkah, we were in the middle of our Intro to Judaism course to study for my conversion and had just moved into our house, so our Hanukkah celebration was a little slapdash. We gave each other a few presents all on the first night, and we lit the electric menorah that my parents had given us, placing it in our sunporch window at the front of the house. That was pretty much it.

This year we made sure to get each other eight gifts and are only opening one per night. We have more decorations around the house that we bought on clearance for 90% off last year after the holiday - a little sign, two sets of dreidels, a crystal dreidel for our dining room table, dish towels, and two menorahs. We used the book our rabbi gave us that has blessings for home rituals to say the blessings for lighting the menorah.

My family is infamous for the quirky things we make into traditions. Everyone has traditions, of course, but we can be very ritualistic about the most arbitrary of things. Like the recent development in the past decade of a tradition of having a Krispy Kreme donut on Halloween morning - where did that come from and how did it become a thing?? It's one of the things I love about us, and Nicole is very patient and flexible (and sometimes amused). Since Hanukkah is new for me, the creation of traditions were just sort of tumbling out as we went along with whatever seemed "right" to me. So here is what we have already set into motion after just one season - and actually, just two days so far of one season!

We light the menorah and say the blessings. Then we put the next bulb into the electric menorah. Then we sit at the table and have "family time" until the candles have burned out, approximately an hour or less. This family time can include exchanging a gift, eating dinner, reading together, talking, anything. But we stay around the table. A gift cannot be exchanged until the menorah is lit, signifying that the next night of Hanukkah has begun. You can pick which gift you'd like to open from your pile, unless the giver has a reason to ask you to open a specific one that evening.

I am loving Hannukah rituals. I love that it lasts for EIGHT DAYS. It helps it not to be so anticlimactic. For eight days we get to light our beautiful menorah and exchange a gift and celebrate. It's not over too soon. I also love exchanging one gift at a time. I feel like it gives us a whole day to really enjoy that item and revel in it rather than having something get lost in the pile. Tonight Nicole gave me a lush bathrobe, and I will cherish it all day tomorrow while I eagerly anticipate the next gift. Oh glorious torment! I looove dragging it out like this.

Nicole does not love the torment quite as much as I do! She misses waking up to a pile of presents. She misses getting everything at once, and dragging it out day by day is less enjoyable to her than it is to me. We have always been different in that sense - I love the anticipation of a happy thing or event and it kills Nicole to wait! But even as she misses this, her eyes light up as we kindle the menorah and she joins me in the blessings without me having to ask her or give up trying. It warms my heart to watch her love of Jewish traditions grow as we go through the year. I just have to meet her halfway on this to help ease the tension for her. Like tonight we had Thanksgiving dinner at her parents' house, and as soon as it got dark (which was like 4:30!) she was antsy to get home and open another present. We lit our menorah there and I told her that as soon as it had burned out, we could go home. Once she knew what to expect, she was fine and relaxed and enjoyed the family time until it was time to go. I just had to keep my promise.

Nicole's mom said she hadn't realized Hanukkah was coming so soon and said that she had to get better about that and have a gift for us. I told her that we are happy to celebrate Hanukkah within our little household, and that we are fine with having our families exchange gifts on Christmas which is their holiday. I said that our kids will grow up knowing their extended families on both sides celebrate Christmas, and we are okay with them being included in that. We are secure enough in how we are creating a Jewish home that we can allow them to celebrate our families' holidays with them. Similarly, Nicole's brother and his fiancee, neither of whom identify as Jewish, come to our house for Rosh Hashanah dinner - they don't observe the holiday as a New Year for themselves and won't with their kids, but they come to celebrate OUR holiday with US, because it's about coming together as family with what's important to us. If my parents lived here, they'd be coming over for dinner too! It's the family togetherness that matters, and I'm about building connection and inclusion, not barriers.

Speaking of "Thanksgivukkah," I made latkes for the first time this year (and yes, said a "Shehechiyanu" at the stovetop!). Nicole has made latkes all her life, so it was very meaningful for me to be able to join in that tradition. It also helped me in a subtle way to bring Hanukkah into our Thanksgiving dinner since I knew it would otherwise by overshadowed. I used a recipe I found online for sweet potato latkes with homemade cranberry applesauce, and they were delicious! Nicole doesn't eat sweet potatoes and ate at least four of these. They were praised and quickly devoured by Jew and non-Jew alike, and I was so, so happy.

Yes, I am nostalgic for some of what I left behind. Of course I am. But I am so happy and fulfilled by what we are creating together!

Making a Jewish Home

Early in the year during one of my meetings with the rabbi to study for my conversion, I asked her if there is any Jewish tradition around blessing the home. I told her that my multi-cultured coworkers told me that their traditions and cultures all have something like that, and that it is the first thing you do when you move in, so I was curious, and also we had a mezuzah we'd gotten as a wedding gift that we still hadn't put up because we didn't really know how. She hesitated and then said, "We could do something like that if you wanted. Kind of a Jewish housewarming, you could have some friends and family over and make an event of it." I said I'd love that, but inside I worried that her response meant there WASN'T really anything like that and she just didn't want to embarrass me so she was kind of trying to create something. Which in turn embarrassed me. So I didn't plan to bring it up again.

At my conversion in April, I received several more mezuzahs as gifts. Then I went by Rabbi's office in August to say goodbye after Nicole arrived to pick me up from some event, and I was talking to her about our garden and she said, "Did you ever get those mezuzahs up?" I said, "No, we still haven't!" And she said, "Do you still want me to come over and help?" And I said, "Yes, I would LOVE that!" I was so excited that she had brought it up several months later. It made me feel like she hadn't just been pacifying me in the moment earlier in the year, or trying to keep from hurting my feelings, but actually thought it'd be something nice to do. So we said we would aim for October or November after the High Holy Days were over. I also told her to bring her husband and daughter and we would have a nice, intimate gathering with some snacks, nothing fancy or elaborate.

So it happened today, and it was just the perfect day. We had my in-laws over, so my carpenter father-in-law did the actual hammering. We also had my friend Allyson and her husband Josh over. We had also invited A&A (our fellow queer couple from temple) and their two little boys, but they canceled the night before because one of the parents had pinkeye.

Nicole and I have spent over a week scrubbing and cleaning and re-organizing the house and even finalizing some much-procrastinated decorating, like putting up our wedding photo canvas. I took such pleasure in preparing for this little event. We went shopping for a TON of healthy and wholesome snack foods Thursday night, and today after Torah study we zipped home to get everything together before Rabbi came over at 2:00. So while she was busy doing Tot Shabbat and a Hanukkah workshop for preschoolers, we were cutting up cheese and fruit, baking brownies, changing out our placemats, chopping up veggies and making dip, and wrapping the little Hanukkah gift we had bought Rabbi's 7-year-old daughter.

I'm pretty sure I was already getting misty-eyed as soon as we opened the door for our rabbi and she gave me a hug. There was something so beautiful and emotional to me about welcoming her family into our home and hosting them. There was also a little bit of the feeling of a second-grader whose teacher comes over - "and look, this is my room and these are my toys and this is my cat!" It was such an unusual way to interact with her, to have her in OUR space instead of at temple, and I just loved it. Everyone stood around the kitchen and then around the living room chatting cozily as if we were all family. My heart was so happy and full.

After almost two hours of talking, I started to worry that we were keeping Rabbi and that she was just too polite to rush us to the mezuzah-hanging. I didn't want to assume that she planned to spend her entire afternoon here when she just offered to come over and help! So when she took her daughter to the bathroom, I got out the mezuzahs and started arranging them on the dining room table. I figured when they came back out, she could take my cue and approach me about them and get things started. But she walked right past me with her daughter who wanted to go spin the dreidels on our coffee table. That was my first major indicator that Rabbi was having a good time too. That we weren't imposing ourselves on her, or putting her out of her way, or squeezing ourselves into her schedule. She truly enjoyed spending time with us in our home.

I actually had to bring it up when Allyson and Josh said they had to get going. I asked if we could put up the one on our front door all together before they left, and that got us started. Rabbi explained to everyone what the mezuzah is and said some nice words about our new home and the people in it and taught us the blessing for affixing the mezuzah. We recited it together and then my father-in-law affixed it. Rabbi said, "Is this a moment for a Shehechiyanu?" That's the blessing for new things and special moments that basically thanks God for bringing you to this place. It's a wonderful way to freeze a moment, fully immerse yourself in it, and appreciate what is happening. I said, "Since I'm already crying, I'm pretty sure it's appropriate to say it!" and we all sang it together.

We moved to the next one, which is shaped like a Torah scroll and was given to us by Nicole's grandmother. We chose that doorway because the sunporch is used as our "study" and has all our Jewish books and our Torah. Rabbi asked us to read the words on it, and I said out of insecure panic, "We can't read Hebrew! We're working on it, though." Then after I paused for a second, I recognized the first few letters and said excitedly, "Wait, SH'MA, that says Sh'ma!" I was so proud of myself reading those three Hebrew letters. So then we said the "Sh'ma" prayer all together.

The next mezuzah is shaped like a tree of life, and we put that in our living room because that will be the center of our family life at home. So then Rabbi sang a song about the tree of life that none of the rest of us could sing but was really fun!

The next one was made out of copper and had been given to us as a wedding gift by Allyson over two years ago. After that we hung up two more outdoor ones, the rainbow one given to us by A&A for my conversion which we affixed in the doorway to a storage room in our basement, the one our friend Jen gave us as a housewarming gift a year ago which we affixed in the doorway from the kitchen to the basement, and then finally the one with the pretty pink flowers which we put in the doorway of our bedroom. Because it was the last one, Rabbi gave everyone a chance to say out loud good wishes for us and our home.

Rabbi also gave us a housewarming gift of the book On the Doorposts of Your House which has guides to different family and home rituals, and her husband included bread, salt, and a broom which he said is a tradition of many European cultures.

The whole day was so awesome. I loved having Rabbi and her family in our home, and I loved the specialness and meaning she helped infuse in the ritual of affixing our mezuzahs. It would not have been nearly so special if we had just gone around nailing them up on our own!

Edited 11/17/13 to add that I just realized yesterday was the one year anniversary of our closing on our house. On 11/16/12, a Friday last year, we giddily grabbed the keys to OUR new house, which burned a hole in our pockets during that evening's Shabbat service. How incredibly touching to realize that, without planning it or even realizing it, exactly one year later we gathered with people we love and sanctified our home by affixing mezuzahs and saying blessings together and celebrating.

Life Updates

1. Last Friday night, Deborah Feldman, author of Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of my Hasidic Roots, came to speak at our Shabbat service. First of all, just HOW FREAKIN' AWESOME to have a bestselling author come to our humble synagogue and spend time with us. She is a natural storyteller, so her speech was riveting, and then she wrapped it up in a decent amount of time so she could take questions and engage with the congregation's curiosity. She signed books at the oneg (shockingly few of us had actually brought the book to be signed) and we got to have a little chat there too. I told her that coming from the South, Judaism itself had been quite a mystery to me, and even now after my conversion, the ultra-Orthodox world she came from was completely foreign and shocking. (Ultra-Orthodox sects, contrary to what one might assume, did not actually exist until fairly recently...it came about as a response to the Holocaust, for Jews who believed that was a punishment for assimilation and felt they needed to make themselves stand out isolated from the world far more than they were.) Deborah said, "You left the land of barbecue to come here?? Please tell me you can still have pork ribs!"

Rabbi on the left, Deborah Feldman on the right

2. Last Sunday was the New York City Marathon, and my brother-in-law's fiancee ran in it. She was never an athlete and just took up running about two years ago after she got out of law school and before she found a job. Talk about inspiring. Nicole and I grumbled privately to each other for a while about having to go into Manhattan on such a crazy day, but we ended up having a great time. It's such a different feel from, say, a parade. Participants are working so hard and the spectators are there to support and cheer on, not to be entertained. We gathered at two different spots to see her pass by, and then we were meeting up with her friends and family at a bar afterward where my brother-in-law had rented out a little loft area for the group.

Watching the race was unexpectedly emotional for me. Seeing two different blind runners who held a rope circle with another runner to keep in line, people running on blades (the prosthetic limbs designed for athletics), people from all over the globe, a woman bursting into tears of exhaustion as soon as her partner stepped out to hug her at Mile 23 so then he ran alongside her for the last three miles.

Between our second spotting and the time we would all be meeting at the bar, there was over an hour to kill. And as we turned to walk with everyone, we realized we had been standing right in front of the Jewish Museum the whole time. I have been wanting to see the Chagall exhibit that leaves in February and figured, like always, we would never end up making it in to see it. We're both such homebodies and it takes a lot for us to commit to spending a day in the city, and the museum is not in a location convenient at all to Penn Station even, which makes it require extra motivation. So we looked at each other and lit up and both said alternately, "Really? Do you really want to? Can we? Is it okay?" Meanwhile my brother-in-law was encouraging us to go. He was so grateful that we had all come out to support his fiancee and wanted us to get out of the cold and do something we'd enjoy while we were there. We didn't have to be told twice.

The Chagall exhibit was awesome. He was a Soviet artist who moved to France and then to the US right before the war, so he had a lot of guilt and distress around what was happening to his fellow Jews back in Europe during the Shoah. I'm not even close to what one would call "cultured" or "a sophisticate," and I could appreciate the very obvious change in his works from before the war to during the war. They got much darker, lots of black and red and sad images. It was fascinating. Then on top of this, we got to see the rest of the museum where we'd never been. An intimate and quiet spontaneous date in the middle of a packed, crowded, and loud day.

3.  I'm super excited about "Thanksgivukah," the very rare, less-than-once-in-a-lifetime coinciding of Thanksgiving and Chanukah. I've already found a pumpkin latke recipe for the combined Thanksgiving/Chanukah dinner. The Jewish world is lit up with excitement and creative ideas over this holiday combination, and it's such a fun energy. But I have one minor issue - I don't know how to decorate!! It already feels strange sending holiday cards before Thanksgiving, but when to change out the orange and brown leaf-themed kitchen towels for the blue and white Chanukah towels is causing me more than a minimal amount of distress. We have a little box that looks like a miniature crate and says "Apples, 50 cents" on it that we use for our napkins and salt and pepper shakers on the dining room table. It's perfect for fall and Thanksgiving. But then we have a nice blue basket with white snowflakes and silver tinsel that would be perfect for the same purpose for Chanukah. When do I trade them out??

This is the fatal conflict: I hate decorating for one holiday before the preceding one is over, and I love decorating far in advance for each holiday so I have time to enjoy the decor. So what to do you do when they happen at the same time??

Our rabbi offered to come over and help us put up our mezuzahs, BLOWING MY MIND as to the role Jewish clergy can play in your life....this is beyond incredible of her and I'm excited out of my mind. This is next Saturday and because I'm ridiculously psyched for it, and because she won't exactly be a frequent visitor to our home, I want everything to be perfect. We've been toying with a date for a couple of months, and I had been very excited about cutesying my house up with fall decor...til we finally confirmed a date that is only two weeks before Chanukah, and now I want her to see our Chanukah decor! But while Chanukah colors fitting a winter theme is normally perfect, it's definitely not while we're not even at Thanksgiving yet.

Yes, I could put both baskets out, both sets of kitchen towels. But boy do they clash, and it goes against the perfectionist in my brain (who only makes rare appearances but this is most definitely one of them).

Chanukat

20 Minutes of Discomfort (she could have at least bought me dinner first)

Disclaimer: I have no qualms about sharing very personal details. The purpose of this blog, aside from my own need for it, is to be a support to other same-sex couples going through the process. If an anxious woman can get some sense of what to expect, or just find comfort in someone else's sharing of their real experience, both the good and the ugly, then I will be happy. There's no point to me in having this blog if I just offer pretty summaries. So if you are not a fan of TMI, here's your warning.


My fertility doctor told me to go for the ultrasound to assess my cyst as soon as I started my next period. My last period was two weeks late, which has never happened before, so it threw me off in my counting. I tracked from that period, which would put me at my next one around Halloween. However, I guess because that one was late, my body was off, and it came a full week earlier than I'd expected.

I woke up Wednesday thinking, "Oh no. Not today. I have too much going on today to call out sick and go into a radiologist. It was supposed to happen next week! I kept those days clear of anything necessary! Today I have a meeting that MUST happen by the end of the month, and I know one of the participants has no other flexibility before then. And I'm scheduled as the closing supervisor, so I'd have to call around for someone to cover for me. Maybe Nicole can drop me off at the radiologist first thing in the morning and then I can take a cab to the train and maybe, just maybe, still make it for my 11:00 meeting. Oh why today!!"

Oh little baby, you are but a twinkle in your mama's eye and you are already giving me a lesson on sacrificing for you and on accepting what little control I have when it comes to you. There is no such thing as perfect planning - life has a mind of its own, and is not concerned with my schedule!

It ends up that there were no available appointments before Friday morning, so all of that went out the window and I had no choice but to wait until two days into my period. I was signed up for the Third Annual Transgender Conference in Manhattan for Friday and was bummed about not being able to go, but knew it would be far from ideal to wait until Monday - plus, Monday was another crazy day that I didn't know how I'd get out of. The world wouldn't end if I couldn't go to the conference.

I followed the instructions on my referral to a tee: empty my bladder an hour and a half before the appointment, and then drink 48 oz. of water. (I have a small bladder capacity, plus I'd had caffeine that morning, so I drank 24 to keep from bursting.) My appointment was at 1:30 and was less than five minutes from Nicole's office, so I swung by her a little after 12:00 for a lunch date. What a treat!!

When I signed in, the receptionist asked if I'd drunk water, and I said I had. Then I gave her my referral, and she looked at it and said, "Oh, you didn't need to do that for this. Go use the bathroom if you want!" I happily obliged. Then the radiology tech came to get me as I was leaving the bathroom and said, "Oh, you emptied your bladder? It'd be ideal to have it full, but that's okay." Gar!!!

After already having had a Pap smear and an "initial consultation" transvaginal sonogram, I was more comfortable getting into position in the stirrups. Still a little awkward, of course, but it was my third time in less than a month!

The tech started with an external pelvic exam. It was strange to have ultrasound gel rubbed over my empty abdomen - not an experience I associate with non-pregnancy. She pressed around for quite a while, and then proceeded to do the transvaginal sonogram. The fertility doctor had had the wand in me in a second like a boss, but the tech slid it slowly down the outside and told me to tell her when it was in position so she could push it in. AWKWARD. I said, "I think you're there. I'm married to a woman, so I'm not used to these instructions." She blinked.

The internal exam seemed to last FOREVER. It had to be at least 20 minutes, possibly longer, and felt like an hour. I felt it only mildly for a good 80% of it, and my mind would actually drift to mundane things. Then there would be a lot of pressure and discomfort and I'd watch my breathing the way I've been learning to do in our five-part meditation series at temple, in an effort to stay calm and kind of dissociate. We tie the weekly Torah portions into the meditation, so I focused on that imagery. "Ow ow ow Abraham sitting in the opening of his tent. Ow ugh ow Noah floating at sea with no control just letting the waves move him." I wonder what my rabbi would think about this first experience of using the practice outside of the classes!

When the tech made conversation with me, she was sweet and encouraging about the fact that I was doing this as a precursor to fertility treatment. She said, "so you want to have a baby, how exciting!" Then after the exam, after she'd given the pictures to a doctor for approval that she'd gotten everything she needed, I swear she gave me a super sympathetic look as she said goodbye. Like a sad "Good luck with everything." It really made me apprehensive. Clearly she would have a pretty good idea of what she was seeing, but there had been a large sign on the wall that said, "Technicians are not at liberty to discuss results with patients," and I had respected that. So now I have to wait up to a week for my fertility doctor to get the results and call me. I don't anticipate much more than, "Yep, big fat cyst, that bad boy's gotta go. When do you want to schedule the surgery?" But the tech's mannerisms with me at the end really threw me for a loop and made me a bit anxious.

Luckly, I'm a pretty go-with-the-flow personality. Nothing I can do til I hear from my doctor, and fearing the worst or hypothesizing what unlikely things could be happening is not my style. It certainly won't help or change anything.

So now we wait.

First Consultation

FINALLY the day had arrived!!! I was giddy-excited every day for about a week before our appointment at a reputable fertility clinic nearby. I had all my paperwork filled out for well over a month, and I had it all in a folder to bring with me Friday morning. Nicole had begun to get quite anxious and couldn't talk about it at all. For instance, I just mentioned to her one day that I had looked up the doctor and she was Finnish, and she said, "Can we not talk about this right now, please?" She took the day off work and was a rock for me throughout the appointment, but she could not handle the anticipation of it and had to try to keep it off her mind til the last possible second. We are learning a lot about how to respond to each other's needs throughout this process!

We met with the doctor first so she could go through my medical background. She asked many questions that I had already painstakingly answered on the huge stack of paperwork that she was clearly not reading. She asked me to tell her more about my concerns regarding possible hormonal imbalances, which I had mentioned where it asked if I had any additional comments or concerns. (I guess she read the "comments" section, at least.) I told her that many of the women in my family have hormonal issues and that I just wanted them to know that since I have never been tested for anything like that and it could affect my fertility. She said my thyroid levels are normal and that my menstrual symptoms (such as breast tenderness) and regular cycles lead her to suspect that I ovulate regularly and don't have any hormonal issues. Great news! This had actually been my primary concern, so once she said that, I relaxed a lot. Not so fast there, Rach.

She did a basic transvaginal sonogram to get a sense of whether there were any major fertility issues to start with, and saw a huuuuge cyst on my left ovary. There are several there, but one of them was pretty massive and of concern to her. She also said my left fallopian tube looks dilated, but that it was hard to tell because of the cyst and it could just be related to that. She gave me a referral for a radiologist to get more information and said we will go from there. She said the cyst will likely need to be surgically removed, and that it has to be taken care of before we can do anything else.

As I struggled to keep my tears under control, I let the assistant usher me to the person who would counsel me on cost and insurance coverage. I was told that my insurance will not cover any treatment unless there are diagnosed fertility barriers - not necessarily total infertility, but anything that could make it more difficult, such as PCOS. If there are no diagnosed barriers from the start, then I would have to have 12 failed inseminations before my insurance would cover treatment, and by that point we would already be moving on to other alternatives anyway because it shouldn't take anywhere near 12 in a healthy, fertile woman of my age. This is consistent with the information I'd gotten in advance directly from my insurance company, but I had hoped that the clinic would know some way to get around it.

If the next ultrasound shows that my left tube is in fact blocked, they can probably get it covered by my insurance as "pathology" even though my perfectly healthy and functioning right ovary should make it pretty easy for me to get pregnant. However, if my tube is NOT blocked, then once the cyst is removed, I will be considered fertile and healthy and will need to pay $1900 per insemination, on top of the $500-$1000 for each vial of sperm.

My heart sank. At that price, we would only be able to try maybe three times in a year! It's ironic for us that, after our initial relief that the fertile one of us would be the one trying to get pregnant, Nicole would automatically be covered by insurance if she were the one trying. It's also ironic that I am hoping and praying for a dilated, blocked fallopian tube. (I think it's unlikely, though, considering that I tested positive for ovulation every month back when I was checking. Shouldn't it only be about every other month if one side was out of commission?)

This certainly wasn't what I expected going into this appointment. Aside from the pregnancy issue, it shook me up to know there is this huge cyst on my ovary that might have to be surgically removed. I didn't expect to leave there possibly needing surgery before I even try to get pregnant. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around that. But it is what it is, and I'm glad to know now and to move forward. I have to get the ultrasound as soon as my next period starts, and then I should be contacted within a week of that by the doctor to discuss next steps.

Let the journey begin...

Holiday After Holiday!

One of the greatest joys I am realizing and embracing about Judaism is the number of holidays. This past month has just been so lively and engaging, contemplative and joyous. Today I will just speak to Yom Kippur, and I will try to keep it brief!

Rosh Hashanah was my first joy, of course, but my (cranky, hungry) Yom Kippur had an unexpectedly beautiful ending. I was thinking throughout the day how frustrating it was that the physical effects of the fast were doing the opposite of what is probably intended - I was unfocused and irritable. It wasn't even so much about hunger, because I got used to that. It was about my body just not feeling right. My head was hurting and I was exhausted and snippy and could barely keep my eyes open during services. How is that supposed to help me atone? I asked myself crankily.

Initially I struggled with this because I felt like the fast is pointless if I'm feeling this way about it rather than being super pious and penitent and graciously self-denying. But as the sun set and the community slipped into a state of relief and triumph ("we did it!! we survived! now let's go eat!"), I realized how much holiness there is in devotion even when you don't want to do something. I don't have to be HAPPY about fasting. What's important is that I did it anyway. I spent the day in prayer even when it was hard to stay focused because I felt physically unwell. Sometimes you do things for people you love even if it makes you grouchy, and you try to do it without complaint, but what matters is that you're doing it.

Yom Kippur was on Shabbat this year, and I was disappointed that I would miss our normal Shabbat joy and Torah Study. However, the upside of this is that the end of Yom Kippur coincided with the end of Shabbat so Rabbi slipped right into a Havdalah service. Havdalah services mark the transition from Shabbat back into the normal week. More traditional Jews have these services every week, but Reforms generally don't. However, our synagogue offers them two or three times a year so that people can still get the experience and so that we don't forget what it's about. I have only been to one, because the other one this summer was while I was in Chicago.

The one I went to was with the Cantor, as our Rabbi was out of town. It was in the auditorium where summer services are held, not in our sanctuary, and he did it sort of with commentary. A "learner's Havdalah" if you will. This was great for learning, since I had never been to a Havdalah service before, but the service didn't just "happen" since it was all being explained so I didn't get the feel of it. As Yom Kippur ended, taking Shabbat with it, Rabbi just started doing the Havdalah service and I got to feel it. She just went through the motions so naturally, with no explanation, as everyone was singing joyously with relief and a sense of accomplishment. And it was a FULL room because of Yom Kippur. It was so unexpected and so emotionally overwhelming that I was sobbing as I watched Rabbi and listened to the unfamiliar songs that I couldn't sing along with. Beautiful, beautiful few moments.

Opening Our Home

After much deliberation, we decided to take in international students through a program at the college where my mother-in-law works (Nicole's own alma mater). My mother-in-law took in international students through this program for about two years, and has been on hiatus for about the last year. We held off on this conversation for the few months that we were renting out a room to Nicole's friend's girlfriend, and we started talking about it again soon after she moved out in June.

We have two spare bedrooms. One is set up with a twin cot, desk, and chest of drawers, and the other is a guest room with a full bed and a dresser. We figured we could have a student in the room with the desk, and still have a guest room for ourselves. However, after the homestudy when the reviewer saw our setup and the space we have, she gently pushed us to consider taking a second student because they don't have enough homes for male students. She promised it would just be for a month (on average, they stay anywhere from one to three months) because he hoped to find a longer-term living situation and stay in the area for school after he passes the English proficiency exam. We reluctantly agreed, figuring what was feeding four mouths instead of three, for twice the pay? So we gave up our guest room "just for a month" and set up a little folding chair and table for his laptop.

The students arrived yesterday, both from China, and it was at once completely awkwardly uncomfortable and so much FUN. The student who is only slated to stay a month is more comfortable with English than the other student, and it ends up they speak the same language so he helps the other. Having two students was the best thing we could do - they have each other to do things with and talk to outside of family dinner time. And Nicole and I are enjoying the challenge of forced parenthood  to young 20-somethings: setting explicit rules, putting up a shower schedule on the bathroom door, planning meals in advance and making sure they're taken care of if we're ever out. It's kind of fun! (It's also fun watching them get used to new and unfamiliar American things, like zucchini! And to hear the one less comfortable in English coo "Hi, Jackieeee" to our cat as he goes upstairs, like he always hears us do. Adorable.)

At the same time, we happen to have two Australian friends of Nicole's staying with us for about five weeks (three more to go). They were only supposed to stay with us for a week or less while they adventure in the Northeast before going to an October wedding in Ohio. However, they had an enormous financial setback right before their trip but already had their airfare and didn't want to cancel the entire trip. So they asked if they could stay with us the entire time since they wouldn't have money to stay in hotels in other cities.

I admit that we did not have a warm, gracious, open welcome in our hearts immediately. We made sure to in our actions, but we struggled with adapting to having two other people in the home all the time, especially since their styles of living are not the same as ours. We let ourselves feel frustrated and impatient and irritable, though we kept smiles on, and we felt guilty about it. But it's a classic concept in psychology that, contrary to common belief in the opposite, changing behavior changes attitude. "Fake it til you make it" is very real and backed by science. And soon we were enjoying having them around and it was suddenly very fulfilling that we were helping them out.

So our quiet little family of two is, for the moment, a house of six. As we watch the boys scarf down our home cooking with great expressions of gratitude, as the Australians offer to cook chili con carne one night and one of the boys asks if he can cook us a Chinese meal another night, as we ask them about their day and speak clearly and slowly using simple words to help them practice their English, I feel a fullness and happiness in my heart. Right now, today, this is our family, and the fullness of our house brings me such joy.

This hospitality, our open door and open arms and open hearts and full table, makes me feel more Jewish even than any of my beloved Shabbat services ever could.

Rosh Hashana

I feel like I've been a Jew for years rather than four and a half months, so it's strange to realize that this time last year, I had not even begun my Intro to Judaism course. I was meeting monthly with my rabbi, and we had taken a break for the High Holy Days since she would be so busy preparing for them. So Rosh Hashana did not have quite the same meaning to me then that it does this year. I knew it was the New Year, and I knew it was followed closely by Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) which was connected, but I didn't fully understand it all. I enjoyed my first Rosh Hashana service, but almost more as a curious outsider since I was experiencing it for the first time and without much context.

This year was obviously quite different, and experiencing this "first" - another first holiday as a Jew - reminded me that I AM a new Jew. It shook me out of the comfortable routine that I so quickly settled into the past several months. It made me feel new all over again.

If I wrote about everything I wanted to, this would be absurdly long - the evening Erev Rosh Hashana service, the full-on morning service, the more casual but equally involved second-day service outside in a park with gorgeous weather and surroundings, feeling the Shofar down to my bones, rushing home after the first-day morning service to prepare a dinner for eleven people, getting to hear FOUR beautiful sermons in three days...there is so much that happened that involved a LOT of thoughts and emotions that I wish I could get into. But I'm going to focus on one so that I don't meander and overwhelm myself. Okay, maybe two.

1. Rabbi's First Sermon

Have I mentioned before how I adore and revere my rabbi? Not only is she absolutely brilliant, but she balances that with a sweet and gentle compassion, and is accessible and "one of us" in a way that I am not used to with clergy. I feel soooo lucky to have her.

Her Rosh Hashana sermons were yet another reminder of this. I read an article recently on Tablet that suggested clergy respond to modern American Jews' needs by thinking outside of the box and not being afraid to challenge us in the High Holy Days services. The article suggested that these services may be the only chance to reach and engage many agnostic or minimally observant Jews who disappear the rest of the year. It said that instead of providing a generic experience which can easily blend into one another year after year, clergy should not be afraid to throw a curve ball, make people think, mix it up a bit, make people uncomfortable in a way that gets them thinking. Jews love wrestling with their religion, so give them that opportunity. Even as I read this, I felt proud thinking back to my rabbi's sermon last year on abortion and euthanasia, which apparently was quite controversial as I learned later.

And this year, she did it again. She talked about Torah, and how it is the one thing that all Jews have in common. Orthodox Jews may not recognize her ability to officiate a wedding or serve on a beit din for a conversion, but when she opens her mouth to talk about Torah, they listen. Liberal Jews may have services that look dramatically different from Orthodox services and more closely mimic Protestant Christian services, but in every synagogue all around the world, Jews are reading the same Torah portion. She then talked about why Torah is so important to us, no matter what each individual person believes about it, and admitted herself that she does not believe it literally word for word and that it does not stand up against science as historical fact. She was able to look at Torah in a pragmatic way while not loving or honoring it any less. She talked about why there is still so much value to Torah, that the stories teach values that we live by and that engaging with Torah and studying it and wrestling with it together is how we work toward being better people and knowing God better, no matter what we believe about it factually or about who wrote it. She said that it's easy for people to enjoy and pass down the cultural traditions of Judaism, but that without also passing down the importance and relevance of Torah, we are only passing down an empty shell which will only last for so long. The shell is important and gives us shape, but there needs to be substance as well in order for it to stay relevant and strong for future generations, and Torah is the way to do that.

I'm sure this sermon will be considered controversial as well - and I think that's amazing. Rabbi kept Torah relevant to every single person sitting in that room, no matter what their personal beliefs, in a way that would make them feel validated. If I was a skeptical Jew, a Jew who identified strongly with my cultural traditions enough to want to go to High Holy Day services but unsure of my belief in God and/or feeling disconnected because of how I doubted the validity of much of what is in the Torah, I think hearing that would make me feel relieved, accepted, and curious in a new way about Judaism. It could suddenly be "mine" again, instead of something I WANT to be mine but feel disingenuine about claiming because of my conflicting feelings.

I tried to tell Rabbi this in just a few sentences when she greeted us after the service, but as always, stumbled pitifully over my words and couldn't quite convey it in the moment. But I'm sure she knows, as I'm sure it was her intention in writing this sermon, to have this impact on people.

2. My New Year's Resolution

In the words of Rabbi Nachum Braverman, "On Rosh Hashana we make an accounting of our year and we pray repeatedly for life. How do we justify another year of life? What did we do with the last year? Has it been a time of growth, of insight and caring for others? Did we make use of our time? Has it truly been a year of life, or merely one of mindless activity? This is the time for evaluation and re-dedication. The Jewish process is called 'teshuva,' coming home -- recognizing our mistakes between ourselves and God as well as between ourselves and our fellow man and then correcting them."

I love making New Year's a religious and spiritual holiday that is about refining our souls, assessing our past actions (or inaction), and working toward self-improvement. Instead of a "the past is the past, you can only move forward" approach which is quite in vogue, Judaism challenges us to be painfully honest with ourselves about where we have erred so that we can make an active plan of how to do better.

At the service in the park, Rabbi introduced the private moment for prayer and meditation by suggesting we think/pray about what we want to do differently in the coming year. I hadn't thought about it yet (er, I was supposed to be doing that during the month of Elul but didn't do a great job at that) but it immediately came into my mind. And it came with such force that I feel like intentional thought would not have led to it. As soon as I closed my eyes, it popped into my head - "I want to let God in more."

Maybe that isn't so conventional in that it isn't about working on my character flaws, but I feel like it is indirectly related, and equally important regardless. Isn't feeling God a huge part of what drives us to work on ourselves? To be more considerate, more patient, more outspoken against injustice?

After the high of my conversion, which I rode for almost a month (til about mid-May), settling into Jewish life ironically led to me connecting less with God. I connected with a more abstract version of the Divine through my intense love and appreciation for Shabbat services, our rabbi and her always-inspiring sermons, our cantor and his always-emotionally-moving music, our warm and loving community, weekly Torah study, Jewish news and current events, and any and every opportunity for intellectual stimulation in this sphere. All of that for sure has connected me to the Divine and to Judaism.

But somehow, in a way I'm finding extremely difficult to put into words, I was losing my grip on my personal relationship with God. It was always very external, through the things happening around me and my engagement with others. Don't get me wrong - all that is also a hugely powerful way to connect with God. But, for me at least, it's not sufficient on its own. I can talk to God, but I want to FEEL God, and that means shutting up once in a while, or stopping my eager and racing thoughts long enough to just allow myself emotion. In the ten years between Catholicism and Judaism, I was actually quite expert at this because it was all I had. I had no organized religion, I had no structure and ritual, I had no community. All I had was feeling God. I could just lay in the woods and soak God up without a word. I could pour out my heart in a moment of intense emotion about anything going on in life - anguish, elation, gratitude - and feel that emotion go straight to God. I prayed through feelings more than through words, and in fact, that's how I answered the question at my beit din when Rabbi E asked me to talk about my relationship with God.

But in the past few months, I've actually allowed myself to be distracted by my religion instead of allowing it to enhance that connection. This happened for a while during my class because I was doing so much reading and discussing and studying, but then as I began meeting with my rabbi more frequently, her questions and conversations provoked my emotions again, took me back outside my head where I'm far too comfortable staying. At the mikvah and then again at Shavuot a couple weeks later, I was as emotionally engaged as someone could be. But then I drifted for a bit, and didn't even realize it because I was so happy and fulfilled overall.

As soon as I closed my eyes during the private prayer in the park, after being encouraged to meditate on our resolutions, this came to me with shocking clarity. I didn't know how I would let God in more, what that would entail, but I somehow didn't worry about that too much. I just felt content that I was so secure in the major change I wanted to bring about. (Next year I hope to spend more time in Elul truly assessing my past behavior and where I can change it, but I think I was exactly where I needed to be this year - in fact, it was exactly what I needed in that I based a resolution on pure in-the-moment emotion rather than on something I've been overthinking, a key part of what I was hoping to regain.)

At sundown, Rosh Hashana slipped right into Shabbat, and I went to that service feeling relaxed and fulfilled after two refreshing days off work, beautiful and moving services, and a loving family meal. I don't know if it was this, or the fact that the tunes chosen for the songs that evening all happened to be my favorite and most emotional tunes, or if it was just a natural effect of Rosh Hashana that maybe everyone feels. I suspect it was a combination of the above, but I feel also that it was a direct result of my having put out there to God what I wanted - to let God in more. I didn't even have to TRY. I didn't have to work at it. (Yet.) I just had to voice it, feel that desire unexpectedly in my heart. I just had to want it, spontaneously and deeply and sincerely, and that was enough to make it happen. I spoke (felt?) it into being.

I closed my eyes during most of the Shabbat music and just let it wash over me without any visual distractions, and this literally brought tears to my eyes a minimum of four different times, once full-on streaming down my face. I could just feel it all in a different way, felt God in it all - and it was just a matter of taking it in differently, with my eyes shut.

I wrote in my conversion statement, as one of the reasons I was choosing Judaism, that the Sh'ma moves me every single time. Well, it didn't start moving me so much until I understood what it was and that it was to be said with your eyes closed and with a loud voice so that you can truly HEAR it as you say the words "O hear Israel..." That made all the difference and it immediately became my favorite part of every service, what I look forward to all week. And now not only did I feel that to the point of tears, I felt similarly at several different points (including one prayer that is chanted, not sung, so it wasn't just about the power of the music).

I am realistic in that I know that feeling strongly about any resolution does not just guarantee that you will be able to uphold it for life. I know that this will likely be an ongoing challenge, to let myself just be in the moment and FEEL, which is all it takes for me to feel connected to God. I also know that the last few days have been emotionally intense and that I am at another "spiritual high" which will naturally not be maintained at this level forever. But I do feel that something has irrevocably changed in me for the better.

What more could I ask for in my first Rosh Hashana as a Jew?

And Here We Go!

Our first appointment is scheduled at the fertility clinic. It's a large, reputable, LGBT-friendly clinic with several sites, one of which is less than ten minutes from our house and right by Nicole's job, which will make ongoing appointments very convenient for her. I'm less concerned about convenience, it's a bit easier for me to take sick days or go in late when needed, and I want Nicole to be able to come to all the appointments with me. It's definitely not feasible for her to go into Manhattan and back on a weekday!

I made the appointment in July, within a week of coming home and seeing Nicole looking at donor profiles online. I wasn't sure how to present myself to the receptionist, and I thought saying I wanted to schedule a free consultation would be enough. That's what it said on the website, after all. I thought it would be straightforward enough that the next question would be, "okay, when would you like to come in?" But instead, she asked me what the purpose of my visit was. I paused and then stammered, "What do you mean? I want the initial consultation. When I clicked for 'more information' on the website, it said I could have a free consultation. I guess I just want to start the process." Smooth. She said, "Yes, but what is your issue? Have you been having difficulty getting pregnant?"

Ah. I'd let myself forget how I have to "come out" in new arenas. Of course that would be the assumption made when someone calls a fertility clinic. (Especially since it's actually called an infertility clinic, and I just edit it for my own purposes.) I said, "Oh, well we are a same-sex couple wanting to conceive." As awkward as it was to say that when it went against her assumption, her voice immediately brightened. I guess if you are used to dealing with calls from sad, frustrated, struggling people, maybe it is welcome to get a call from someone who is excited and hopeful. They rarely see people at the beginning of their fertility journey, I imagine.

I requested an October appointment, and she said, amused, "October? That's kind of far ahead, we are only booked up through August right now." Well, how was I supposed to know how far ahead you get booked up? Give me credit for being proactive in my planning! She asked when we want to conceive, and with my heart in my throat, I said, "December." She said, "Oh okay, then October is perfect for that first meeting. Bring your most recent PAP and bloodwork, and I'll send you paperwork to fill out in advance and bring with you." So next I had to schedule a GYN appointment for September 30 so that I will be all good to go!

Of course I started filling out the paperwork the next day when she sent it to me. I was just so excited and it felt like something I could get started on before October, which felt soooo far away. It is INTENSE. I know its target audience is couples struggling with fertility, but since, despite the medical process, I feel more closely aligned with couples who are just starting to try to get pregnant, it just hit me as very odd that someone needed to know all this about me in order to try! I mean, it is pages and pages of questions, and it was just so surreal to think of how little preparation and thought need to go into an average opposite-sex couple's initial attempts to get pregnant. You could check off "yes" for all these boxes of health issues, and still be allowed to just try to get pregnant without anyone's advice or input. It just felt so odd! It felt like we were applying to have a baby.

I'm so excited for October. I can't wait to learn about what is next!

Temple Review

Temple First
Last Friday, when our rabbi was away, we went to the first synagogue that I ever set foot in, over two years ago. We had gone to this one twice, and on the third attempt as we again panicked and tried to rush through horrible commuter traffic, we had to admit defeat and look again for somewhere closer to us, which ended up being Temple Tikvah, our current home. We hadn't been back since, and I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to recreate that first experience.

Synagogue
The building is small and modest with a huge floor-to-ceiling (ground-to-roof?) glass wall at the front. It exposes everything inside, and from the outside I didn't like it. It wasn't aesthetically appealing. Also the parking lot was very small. When we went in, we were at the top and needed to take a very open and visible staircase down to the sanctuary. I remember hating this aspect when we first went here two years ago because I felt so awkwardly exposed. It's like you're presenting yourself at a ball! Everyone is milling around at the bottom (not so many people that you'd escape notice) and here you come gliding down the staircase, and with that huge glass wall. It didn't bother me so much this time just because I was more comfortable in my own skin.

The service was held outside the sanctuary, much like ours in the summer. This meant we had to go peek into the sanctuary afterward for me to fully indulge my nostalgia. It is a simple, generic sanctuary that feels cozy, and I liked the folk-art ark doors.The area the service was held in was more conducive for it than our temple's summer area, which is in a huge open auditorium. This area was smaller and cozy, with the glass wall providing a view into a mini-garden and with the top opening up to a wrap-around balcony hallway from the classrooms.

Congregants
The congregation was awesome. Entirely middle-aged and senior, but warm, relatable, chatty, playful, kind, welcoming, funny, and savvy. It was a modest, down-to-earth bunch who greeted us with sincere joy and welcome, and it was a pleasure to see their banter and the clear bond they all have. And it wasn't an exclusive bond. It felt like you could easily become a part of the group, and that you would be welcomed with open arms. This is the most comfortable I've felt in any new congregation we've encountered, including our own, which took a little more than one single Shabbat service for us to be noticed and approached and included. There were certain individuals who knew we were coming who made sure to reach out to us, introduce us to a few people, and help us feel comfortable, but I can't say that many random congregants did the same. It helps me realize the importance of that, and that I myself need to overcome my shyness to welcome new people in our midst. That feeling is what brings someone back a second time.

Rabbi
Well, I knew she would be great because I had experienced her before! She was the first rabbi I had ever met, and I remember her as being similar to my rabbi and to my Intro class rabbi in their level of warmth and in-touch spirituality. You can tell they really feel everything they're doing, during a service or anything else, and that love of God and Judaism is infectious. That's something that I really connect with in a rabbi, and I haven't found it elsewhere yet (not that I've been to all that many places yet). It's not just a given. Many clergy are a lot more restrained. I remember being impacted by this rabbi's D'Var Torah, but this night, she didn't give one! She said that she had an article that really disturbed her that she'd like to discuss at the oneg with anyone who was willing. I thought maybe it was too disturbing to read there so she was finding a way to make it optional, but it wasn't disturbing in that sense, so I'm not sure what that was about. It's very strange to go through an entire Shabbat service without a D'Var Torah, and in fact it didn't really feel like the service was being led as much as just facilitated. I was disappointed by this because I know she is smart and that I liked her and I wanted the opportunity to be moved and impacted by her. That's one of the joys of having a rabbi.

I did like the idea of an interactive conversation around an article, though. It was dynamic and interesting and the people involved really got into it. I don't think it's feasible to do that every week, because the rabbi doesn't get to circulate and socialize at the oneg if she has to lead a discussion in the corner, but it's certainly nice to have once in a while. I really enjoyed the discussion.

Music
This congregation does not have a cantor, so various congregants take turns leading the music. While the music wasn't great because of this, there is something very touching in the members' willingness to fill that role, and to support one another in it to enhance their Shabbat experience. It's a beautiful example of community and social responsibility. But in the end, I really missed having our cantor's gorgeous voice and a strong vocal leader for the music. This particular guest-cantor sang very softly while playing the guitar. He seemed much more comfortable leading the music by playing guitar, and lot less secure in his voice. The congregation has some very secure, loud singers (and some beautiful ones, too!) so they happily took charge of that, and it wasn't necessary for him to be any louder than he was comfortable with. Again, that was a beautiful experience, even if I prefer having a strong cantor. Not having a cantor DOES rush the service, though, because the music is pretty straightforward and there is no soft lingering on certain parts that I'm accustomed to. They also sang and chanted things that, to my understanding, are supposed to be standard across the board (as opposed to much of our music which has many variations), and they were doing them pretty differently. It made it hard to follow along, and also just didn't feel right.

Consensus
Not having a cantor was a pretty big strike. Even though it's not uncommon, I have just gotten used to that luxury and am not sure I would want to do without it. But if this temple were closer to home AND (a big, big and) I had never encountered Temple Tikvah, I could easily see myself making this temple my home. It has everything else I would want, at least within this Shabbat service experience. The people and the rabbi are warm, loving, welcoming, and solid, and after my other recent experiences, that is not something I take for granted.

Temple Hopping

Our rabbi was on vacation the last two weeks, and will be again next week, so Nicole and C and I have taken this opportunity to go on temple field trips. I was the one pushing for this, Nicole had pretty easily agreed, and then C got excited when we told her so we invited her along.

It's strangely difficult to me to be at a service at our synagogue without our rabbi leading. It makes me kind of sad and feels "better than nothing" but not the same. So since Temple Tikvah was only the second synagogue I had ever set foot in in my entire life, I have used these rare opportunities to make the best out of the situation by sating my curiosity over what other Shabbat experiences are like.

When sharing this with the temple president yesterday, who had asked me where we've been and showed great interest in my response, she asked me if I'd like to be on the Religious Affairs committee, because they discuss service structure etc. She said they would love to have my input on what I've noted in other synagogues and services. I was so honored that I immediately said yes, I'd love to. I can't explain how this made me feel like a real, recognized Jew for my own temple to feel I could have a valuable contribution and want to include me in the conversation.

So here I will make notes for myself to bring there. I had planned on writing about my Shabbat experiences anyway, but put it off and may never have gotten to it, so this is a good motivator. I will not use the temple names, as I may be critical of some aspects and would never want anyone to inadvertently stumble upon this blog and see that about their own congregation. My intention is to learn and compare, not to offend others. And I also have the extreme bias of being totally in love with my own temple, so that any other experience inevitably leaves me feeling homesick, and that's an unfair perspective.

Temple Seattle
Before our Alaska cruise in June, we went to a Shabbat service in Seattle, which was my first temple experience outside of NYC/Long Island.

Synagogue
The temple was on a huge city block with quite a lot of lawn for an urban area. The building was sprawling and had someone guarding one door, which was a little unsettling. The synagogue was built in the late 1800s, which was AWESOME. Unfortunately, though, we didn't get to see the old sanctuary, as they use the smaller, more casual and comfortable one for regular services. I wish we'd been bold enough to peek into the main sanctuary to see what it looked like. The one we were in was pretty modern and bare, but comfortable, and the Ark was pretty.

Congregants
I was surprised that the crowd was a bit younger. Our congregation is mostly middle-aged and older - I can count one hand the number of people under 35 who attend regularly. It ends up that there were several students visiting from the university a few blocks away. But there was also a lesbian couple and a few other young hip people who clearly come pretty regularly.

Rabbi
The rabbi was a young married man whose three- or four-year-old daughter sat in the front row. He was pretty personable and seemed to have a good rapport with the congregants. I enjoyed his D'Var Torah, as he very neatly linked the Torah portion to current events and modern life, much as our rabbi does. He was pretty cool. There are two campuses and several rabbis among them, and the "youth rabbi" was present this evening also. Someone who had helped us find the entrance outdoors later introduced us to him, even though we had said we were just visiting. He didn't know we were just visiting, and was very enthusiastic as he worked to engage us until we told him we were here on vacation. I'm not sure what a "youth rabbi" does, or where the age cut-off is for "youth," but he clearly knew a lot of the young people in attendance so it must work as an engagement strategy.

Music
This synagogue had no cantor, or at least not that night. The rabbi was musically accompanied by a late-adolescent boy who helped lead the music with guitar but didn't sing. The rabbi did all the singing and was not very loud about it so we were really just hearing ourselves. His voice was average so I suppose he didn't want to showcase himself too much, but I'm just used to a strong, powerful voice leading the congregation in song. I loved the way they sang "Mi Chamocha." It was less upbeat, softer and very moving. That very next week, our cantor led the song in that same way! Nicole and I immediately looked at each other and lit up.

Consensus
This was an overall positive experience, and if we lived in Seattle and had been trying out this temple, we would have come back for more.

Temple Rich

Synagogue
Last Friday C and I did a double-feature (Nicole just went to the first one). The first we went to was in an affluent neighborhood. The building was like a piece of art, just architecturally gorgeous, and on a huge lot with very beautiful and well-maintained gardens. We didn't get to see the main sanctuary because the service was being held in the courtyard that night, which was an exciting idea to us and was why I left work a few minutes early to make it out there for 6:30. (Our services are at 8:00...Shabbat doesn't even begin during a 6:30 summer service, but it's more in demand by people with young kids and those who want to go out on a Friday evening.) It was nice in theory, and the courtyard was beautiful with an incredible cool breeze and not-too-bright clear sunny sky, but it was jam-packed and the speakers weren't set up in a way that could reach everyone. We had a lot of difficulty hearing the rabbi from the back.

Congregants
The people were definitely upper-class. They were wearing fancy clothes, the women had a very "Desperate Housewives" look to them, and we passed three Lexuses in a row to get to a parking spot. Affluent people should have the same opportunity to worship together, and it shouldn't have been such a conspicuous issue to me, but it made me uncomfortable. I felt very self-conscious and missed my own congregation with many working-class and middle-class folk who are all struggling to get by in a high-cost-of-living area. That doesn't mean no one in my synagogue has money, but there is definitely a diverse range, whereas I felt very isolated and alienated in this group. I was impressed initially at how many people showed up for a regular Friday night service, but then noticed that so many of them were disengaged. The participation in song, prayer, and chanting was very scattered, and the woman next to me was playing on her phone inside her purse the whole time as if no one would notice because it wasn't out on her lap. I didn't feel at all connected to the people here, though clearly they feel some draw to one another and to the temple.

Rabbi
This congregation has two rabbis, and the non-senior rabbi led this service. He was a young man and, to us, seemed disappointingly disconnected in his leading of the service. I guess I would think a young rabbi would still be excited and passionate, but he was kind of monotone and it felt like he was going through the motions. Also his D'Var Torah felt lazy. He threw out a few verses from the week's Torah portion and then asked people to talk about what it means to them. That was it. There was nothing of himself or his own thinking in there, and it felt like he didn't have to put any work into it. It felt like he was guiding a Torah study, though even with that, our rabbi adds her own input for us to learn from, debate, wrestle with. Also, it was a difficult forum for an interactive discussion because we couldn't hear anyone and it was hard for the rabbi to navigate through the large crowd to get to people with the microphone (which didn't help much). The content itself was about not forgetting that there are needy people out there, and it was so directed at a people so privileged that they CAN forget about the needy, that it made us feel awkward and almost spotlighted. "Hi, the three of us struggle paycheck to paycheck trying to figure out how to afford life, and also collect tzedakah with what little we can." I guess this is a sermon this group needed and was relevant to them, but it was uncomfortable for us where all of this isn't so far-removed from our reality.

Music
The congregation has two cantors, a male and a female, who sang together. Their voices were absolutely beautiful together, with some very well-rehearsed and unique harmonies. I was totally moved by their performances, but also frustrated that they sang the songs so uniquely that none of us could sing WITH them. Singing is such a major part of prayer and worship in Judaism, and Shabbat felt strange without being able to engage in that. The focus was on spotlighting these two beautiful voices and not on having the congregation join together in song.

Consensus
Taken as a nice, breezy outdoor concert with fellow Jews, it was a nice experience. But as a Shabbat service, it lacked a lot - it lacked a substantive and enlightening D'Var Torah, an engaging rabbi, and friendly and relatable congregants. I would only go back if it were for some very special type of service AND my rabbi was not leading our own.

Temple Ikea
At 8:00 that same evening, we went to a nearby Reconstructionist synagogue. I have been eager to experience Reconstructionist Judaism ever since I learned about it in my conversion class, where we read about all the different movements. It had sounded like something so perfect to me that, for a moment, I second-guessed my decision to affiliate with the Reform movement. I knew I could always attend Reconstructionist services after conversion, that converting within the Reform movement didn't tie me down (unless I want to be Orthodox), but I already loved my rabbi and my temple. Part of me was curious and wanted to experience Reconstructionism, but another part of me felt threatened by exposure to other movements. I'm now secure enough in my love for Reform Judaism, and my identity as a Jew who can choose to belong to and attend services at my current temple regardless of what movement I most closely identify with. So when C suggested checking out a Reconstructionist service, I was completely on board.

Synagogue
I have been drawn to Reconstructionism (is that a word?) because it was described in one of my books as a movement that is just as socially progressive and liberal as Reform Judaism but with more traditional levels of religious observance. That sounded like a dream of a combination to me - the best of both worlds! But the stricter adherence to me read as "more traditional," and there is warmth and comfort in tradition. However, this is not how I experienced this temple. It was a very modern structure, with a stark and modern sanctuary. Like at our temple, the smaller summer services are held in a smaller room to conserve air conditioning, but we peeked into the sanctuary afterward. It had individual seats instead of pews, and a strange new-agey looking Ark that was like a carpeted circle with a spacey design. Even the Judaica around the synagogue had a modern twist to them. Kind of cool in an artsy way, but I wouldn't want that to be my environment on a regular basis. It was just too modern. When I later showed Nicole the picture I'd taken of it, she said it looked like an Ikea temple!



(That's C up there.)



(yes, that's actually an Ark...and it's carpeted.)

Congregants
The people in attendance were much more our kind of crowd than those at Temple Rich. They seemed very down-to-earth, companionable with one another, and connected to their rabbi and temple. Out of a small crowd of maybe 20 or 25 people, there was a gay-male couple with their daughter and a young college-age lesbian. The rest were older, much like our congregation. There was much conversation (sometimes at inappropriate times) and I have no doubt that we would have been warmly approached had we stayed for the oneg.

Rabbi
The rabbi was a woman probably in her late thirties or very early forties. She seemed very connected to her congregation, clearly beloved, but as C said, did not seem very holy. She seemed like just any other congregant who happened to be leading the service. I am used to our rabbi who is so clearly into every service, very much feeling God's presence and the joy of Shabbat. She is just very openly spiritual, and that's something I can relate to. This rabbi didn't give that off. She led the service in a way that any other experienced congregant could do. There wasn't that special something extra that I feel a rabbi should bring to their role. Also, she was inappropriately dressed, in my opinion, which made it hard to take her seriously because I was so appalled. She wore a short dress that was sheer so you could see the outline of her black bra, and it was unbuttoned all the way down through her cleavage so you could see the sides of her breasts. Then she had a necklace draping right out over the top button, spilling out from between her breasts, which she toyed with throughout the service, bringing your attention right to that area. The outfit was topped off with sky-high heels. I'm really not trying to be judgmental, and I know that male rabbis don't suffer this same kind of scrutiny. But God forgive me, I guess I have taken for granted the classiness of our own rabbi. I just shouldn't be seeing your bare breasts bouncing as you sing. It's a problem to me.

I also had the same issue with her as I did at Temple Rich, where the D'Var Torah felt lazy. I don't even know if you can call it a D'Var Torah, because I'm not sure it was related to God or the Torah in any way. She recited something she'd read from a poet about feeling most white when against a multi-colored background, and engaged congregants in a group discussion about what this means for each of them. She didn't say what it meant to her, didn't expound on anyone's responses very much, didn't relate it to the Torah portion. She just quoted a sentence and let people run with it. And run, and run, and run. It was well past 9:00 and people were still responding, and she didn't seem able to redirect them or cut it off. Again, this is something our rabbi is quite skilled in, as she has to be mindful of time in Torah study and even in Shabbat services.

Music
A sweet, young, pretty preschool-teacher-like woman played guitar and sang a little (though clearly was not a cantor), and sometimes the tunes were a little off but overall it was okay. I don't know if they regularly have a cantor or not, but this accompaniment would have been sufficient if the guitarist/singer had been able to keep the tunes so that we could all sing along consistently without suddenly being thrown off by going awkwardly flat. I'm aware that I'm being pretty critical here, as we do have the luxury of an intense and beautiful cantor and not every temple can afford that. If you aren't able to have a cantor, this woman's role was helpful and nice, but maybe she and the rabbi should just practice some of the tunes together a bit more so that the congregants can follow along better.

Consensus
I'm not so enthralled with Reconstructionism, as the modern feel of everything was actually the opposite of what I expected. Although since I don't know if it's just specific to this temple, I'd be willing to try one somewhere else also. If I was Reconstructionist, knowing how very few synagogues there are to explore, if this was close to me I would make it my temple home. The warm community and the lack of Reconstructionist options would assist me in making this choice. But I'm glad I'm Reform and have more options and have my own temple home, because the service was lacking in the intelligent, insightful, creative, and spiritual intensity that I am used to at home. I also don't think I'd feel as comfortable in the huge, cavernous, stark regular sanctuary that is used most of the year. Overall a bit too modern and out-of-touch for my liking.


Last night our rabbi was back, and we were so ridiculously homesick for her and our temple. But next week she will be gone again, and we will return to the first synagogue we ever attended, which we didn't end up staying at because of how far it was from our Queens apartment. There will be some nostalgia in that which will help me get through til our rabbi is back again, and then holy crap, the High Holy Days are right around the corner!