Heather, do you have any questions? Is all I vaguely remember hearing. The question the highly recommended neuro surgeon asked me after he delivered Gavins cranial synostosis diagnosis to me. Sitting in a small room with two chairs, my head was back against the wall, and all I could utter was my first and only question. Have you ever lost anyone on the table during this type of surgery. His words. Yes, one. A little boy. I lost my body and I collapsed. All I remember from that day forward was having papers handed to me which acknowledged that I was ready to go forward, that I was aware of the potential that my son, 5 months old, may not make it off the table. Knowing I didnt have a choice, I signed. At the same time, I began to spiral out of reality. I went home and had only a few weeks to prepare. With my 4 year old, my 2 year old and my 5 month old on my hip and work now accelerating faster than I could imagine it was hard not to ask why this was happening to my family. To my sweet little boy. The demand to design the next season was pressing on my to do list. I could hardly see straight. Every day felt like I was on a slippery slope closer to the October 13th surgery date. Would I lose him? Why did this happen? I could not place my fear. 5 years ago, as I was trying so hard to keep it all together...work, family, design and while preparing for this eminent surgery, I decided to tuck my babies in for the night and hop in my car. I drove (on what felt like a numb autopilot) to my warehouse and at midnight let the energy take over. As soon as I stepped inside, I surrounded myself with my tools, with metal, with stone and I began to process all my fears in a way that I had not allowed myself to do in a long while. The conversations with the surgeons drilled through my mind. The endless questions ran rampant. The ones I had been too scared to ask myself. I cried. I prayed. I sat still. I stared at the wall. Then, I picked up the hammer.... I remember unwinding the coil of metal, and setting the mandrel on my desk as time seemed to stop. A peace rushed over me and I slammed that hammer hard into the metal. I twisted the coil, manipulated the metal as I watched the designs come alive. I released every ounce of love, of fear, of passion...all the questions which had no answers with every swing of my arm. As the peace took its hold, beauty was manifesting itself back at me. The design delivered by heartfelt fear and heartache. Together, the energy that unfolded that night, my hands and the materials I used produced an incredible cuff collection that still takes my breathe away when I look at it because it vividly brings me back to that healing night when I was able to stand still in time and make sense of the journey I was embarking on with my son. The world allowed me to become at peace and to understand that whatever was to happen, it would be ok. His surgery was a big success, my Gavin is a thriving silly little boy, and I am a beyond grateful Momma.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 19:30:57 +0000
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