When CP was three weeks old, I started the next pottery class. I knew I was exhausted, but my dear pottery teacher gave me a slight nudge. “How about you pay for half of a class?” she offered. “Just come when you can.”
That first evening, I left CP and CM with A. and my in-laws. I was a half hour late. It was the witching hour, so I was nervous about leaving a crying baby.
And here’s what happened: I forgot how to throw. I couldn’t center the clay and I felt cloudy and woozy. My body and mind were way more exhausted than I realized. I was putting everything into my little one and I was still recovering from giving birth.
“I lost my mojo!” I told Lois, panicked.
I usually make 15-20 pieces during a class. This time I made seven. My goal was to throw mugs, and I couldn’t form it into the right shape.
When it comes to creating art, I knew I had to be flexible and forgiving. So instead I learned how to throw a lid and I practiced throwing a plate.
And I gave myself the gift of pursuing a passion during a time when I’m giving so much to others.