Hooray! My piece for the Washington Post ran last week. Last year, I mentioned what a traumatic time I had a week after giving birth to baby L., and it felt good to write out the details. I never realized how difficult it was write about medical issues — it’s so nuanced I was a bit stressed about getting the details right. But after pestering the Stanford doctor and the CDC press officer and my friend Natasha who’s an infectious disease doctor, I felt confident when the story ran.
I also have so much more to tell, like how lonely it felt to be that sick even though my husband didn’t leave my side or how I wished I had those early days with my last newborn at home instead of in the hospital or how I sometimes look at the horizon and talk to the woman who saved my life even though I don’t believe in heaven. Lots to unpack there, I know. Maybe I can work on another piece — I just have to find the right angle.
A few weeks ago, A. finished my pottery shop and I’m throwing during my spare time. I’m a bit rusty and I need a full weekend to throw and throw to get in the groove, but I think I’ll find that in the new year and will be able to re-open my Etsy shop.
Exciting things are on the horizon! I don’t think I’ll pull off Christmas cards this year (sadly), but we’ll see. It’s hard to get a picture of the five of us. Have a happy and relaxing holiday!
When A.’s parents visited in late February, I had one full, glorious free day to myself. Nonni and grandpa boarded the Rail Runner train to Santa Fe with my two boys at 9:30 a.m. and I had till close to 6 p.m. to do whatever I liked (with CM’s school conference smack dab in the middle of it, but no matter). I decided I would write a bit at a coffee shop, throw some pots and get exercise in no particular order.
While at the coffee shop, I researched things to do in Albuquerque and surroundings. And that’s when I stumbled on the Women and Creativity conference. I missed most of the events, but it looked like I could still be involved in the poet’s post trading cards project. It involved me beautifying 10 cards and sending them back to the organizer, and then I would get 10 back in the mail from 10 different artists.
I donated $10 to the cause and signed up. When the blank cards arrived several weeks later, I felt like a fraud. Real visual artists were filling these cards out — my arts are clay and writing. But I pulled out some water colors and painted, and man did it feel good to let go of any self doubts (I had no stake in this) and ego and take a paintbrush to these tiny cards.
Last week, I received the 10 in the mail, and I opened them up like a joyful little kid. (I also had my joyful little 4 year old next to me, who was excited as I was.) The cards are spectacular. And every one is completely different. They’re mostly from New Mexico, but one is from New Jersey, one from California and one from Pennsylvania.
I haven’t decided what to do with them — I might take my favorite few and frame them if I can find something suitable at Michael’s. But the point isn’t (and wasn’t) the end product. It was the process — it was more fun than I expected. It gave me a bit of perspective to calm down and change gears and relax creatively. And that’s what I need often when I’m throwing pots or writing a story. Perspective.