Wednesday, July 30, 2014

The Business At Hand

This past week has been difficult, at best, reluctantly walking an altered path divergent of the planned road. Long nights passed with family comforting loss. Trying to find reason in the unreasonable. Redefining purpose in every day. Normal life and routines halting; the overdone theme of my 2014. I have become familiar with carrying on in chaos and so studio business must go on as well.
While prepping for Baby I learned that I loved creating functional toys.  I have the privilege of working at Hendley Market in Galveston where we receive a daily crowd of tourists with children in tow. We pride ourselves on being a child-friendly destination where parents can browse while nostalgic toys keep the kiddos busy  The cashmere kitties (aka the Purrrrrrrrrrrfect Pet) have been a huge hit this summer.
Watching wee ones delight in the silly cats and carry armfuls around the store, tending to each one with loving coos, just melts my heart!  The studio mice crave the same attention and in honor of our lost wee one, Hand of Bela Peck will continue with a full line of affordable simple sweet toys.
 As for my daughter, she is taking life day by day and doing well.  She helps out in the studio from time to time and in those small stitches and patterns we will mourn what we have lost and celebrate what lies ahead.  In the hours we pass together I can keep my watchful eye on her, hugs and tissues at the ready.
 I was touched by the number of friends who shared their stories and shocked by the number of women I know who have suffered in silence with miscarriage. It is a deeply personal form of loss kept between the closest of confidences.  As I continue to create, to help my daughter heal, I will carry all of their stories with me. 


Wednesday, July 23, 2014

And Then There Is Silence

Silence.  That defeating distance between what should be and the reality of what is unfolding.  I've experienced this silent mystery too often this year- the slow motion dizziness of life as it turns upside down like a laundry basket emptying its contents tip-toppling to the end of a long staircase tumble.  There is no real remarkable noise.  It happens in hyper-speed and  leaves only blurry utterances of  actors adlibbing their way through the fall.
Two days ago family gathered for the excitement of my daughter's 12 week sonogram.  Even though there were only four of us waiting to hear the heartbeat, we were too much of a crowd for the tiny room and had to wait turns.  I went in first with my daughter and her boyfriend, all of us making our humorous cases for the boy or girl debate.

 The grainy image cleared into full view of the expected wee one. As the tiny picture flashed on the screen I saw my daughter's face.  Where I expected joy, I saw confusion.  There were a few questions, grasps for a different understanding, but like I said- the actors were stumbling;  their voices nearing inaudible as the room filled with the white noise of fear, desperate sadness, and loss. She knew in that instant that life had slipped away
There are no words to comfort a mother losing a child. The doctor's droll,  "I see this all the time" and "don't blame yourself" evaporate in thoughts of a sweet cuddled bundle already filled with a mother's, a father's, a grandmother's, dreams and hopes. And as my daughter pulled a brave face out of her pocket, I felt my knees buckle as I pleaded with the doctor to give me hope where no hope could be offered.
In my last post I wrote how some had thought my daughter too young to have a child.  She is 19. She has been to college. She has been across the US and Canada on a motorcycle with her Dad. She has played with tigers in a Thailand jungle. She spent her high school junior year summer recovering from open heart surgery.  Usually shy and quiet, she initiated a media campaign earlier this year to try finding the hit and run driver who nearly killed her father.  She has mourned the loss of more than a few key people in her life. She has the kindest, most gentle humanitarian spirit and her soul is an old one that will rise from this loss as well.

 As I wrote in my last post; we do not choose when life is to come and go.  Life opened the door in May, 2014.  On July 21, 2014, life left, closing the door as it went. 

~Rest in peace precious wee one.  You are loved. Always ~


Friday, July 18, 2014

And Then There Is Life

2014 has been full of the unexpected, the unforeseen, the unpredictable, the slow healing of time, the redefinition of priorities, and a necessary slowing of life lived in full speed. Studio doors have been closed, production reduced to bare minimum leaving nothing but the dull hum of stunted creativity.  And then, without warning.... suddenly, there is life.
I am going to be a grandmother!

 A new wee soul to brighten this uncertain world.  A tiny face to smile, a brand new person to hug and hold tight. All the possibilities of hope and love just 7 months away! 

The studio doors have flung open with a softer feel; up-cycled cashmere and tiny whimsical cotton prints drape the work table. There is laughter and excitement among the studio mice and the necessary rethinking of traditional patterns is taking place.

The studio mice will become larger for easier grasp in wee hands. 

Small parts will give way to embroidered features to avoid choking hazards. And time will be spent in the whimsical fabric stacks of childhood themes. Nearly 2 decades have passed since I needed baby themed prints and WOW!! There are so many brilliant designers out there! I'm not certain I can buy enough! 
I'd forgotten the love of small stitches in simple lines to create the necessities of welcoming new life into this world; soft blankies, diaper covers, rattles and bibs.  The splendid repetition of snipping corners, turning and pressing, all the while dreaming how this baby will impact our world.
Some have said we are too young to be grandparents, that our daughter is not yet ready to be a mother.  All I can say after the year we have had is that we do not tell life when we wish it to come and go.  That door opens and closes often without our consent.  Ready or not, life is coming. We are simply blessed to be here to embrace it together.

As for those with inquiring minds: we are sooooo ready!