07 May 2016

Facing Sadness

Ok, I think it's time to talk about the bomb I dropped in my last post, and specifically how I've been dealing with it. 

Lately, I've had a major case of the sads. It's hard not to let that fear and doubt seep into those tiny fissures in your heart-- especially if you current state means you do nothing in your quest to get pregnant for at least the three moremonths. Infertility really sucks sometimes (really, ALL the time). 



I've gone through an emotional dip like this before-- the LAST time we were told that needed to extend our Australia stay. Back then, I had myself a good, long ugly-cry about it.  And (after a date with a box of ferro-rochers), my bro-in-law, Andrew, called with some of the best advice I'd ever received. He said:

"Jess, maybe you should consider what it is that you *really* want. Yes, you want a baby, but what PART about having a baby are you actually wanting? What is it that you want to FEEL?"

That struck me as a pretty profound question, so I gave it some serious thought. What I really have wanted is something small and cuddly-- something whose little mind I could mold, someone that I could name, and whose story I could be apart of. Those were the things I wanted to feel. 

Earlier that year, my sister-in-law Mary had shown me how to make waldorf dolls. They were these beautiful natural fibre dolls, but I never thought I would have enough time to learn how to make them. The more I thought about it though, the more I realised these little dolls would satisfy most of those things on my list.

No, a doll is not the same as a baby, but it was something. And in that moment I needed something real to put my heart into. 

After researching, and buying, and stitching, I began to see just how healing the creative process could be. I really believe there is something divine about our ability to create and transform simple materials into art. The more a felted, and sewed, and knitted, the more regulated I felt, and the more I felt those little fissures in my heart starting to close.

So now, I'd like to introduce you to my first doll, Molly. I designed her after a cloth doll my mom made for me one Christmas when I was about four. My first Molly was beautiful and simple, with hair made out of strips of white muslin cut with pinking sheers. Mom had made us matching black and white dresses with red ribbons and watermelon buttons. My Molly doll was perfect.

This is the only photo I have of my original Molly. We're wearing our matching dresses, hair ribbons and bloomers.


My new Molly took me many, many, many hours, especially since I decided to do all the patterning for the doll and her clothes by myself (seriously would have saved so many hours if I'd just bought one). I also opted to weft my own wig from loose fibre, which, in hindsight was painfully naive. Still, I'm rather happy with how she turned out. She's made out of tightly felted English wool and organic Swiss tricot. 



Anyway, this little cutie is headed to my mama... My mom has always loved and collected dolls and it only makes sense that she should have her. 

One of the many things I've learned (or really RE-learned) in the process of making these dolls is that when you are faced with sadness, create. 

Create, create, CREATE!

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