Making It is a project by me, Hayley, in an attempt to share and nurture creativity in a slower, more intentional (more annoying?) way.
✨Note: If you are reading this newsletter as an email, the illustrations make it too long so it will be clipped! For the best experience, read the piece on my substack:
෴ Holding breath ෴
In 2020 my son was born in an emergency C section after they lost his heartbeat multiple times during labor. I was rushed down the hall and into the OR on a gurney thinking, you will be ok. You will be ok. You will be ok.
You will.
I will.
We will.
Today my youngest turns 3 months old.
On March 6, 2023 she came into this world silently. A nurse put her on my chest. She was limp with purple hands and I said to her, you will breathe. You will breathe. You will breathe. Soon after, she breathed with some help. And soon after that she breathed on her own. Then I took a breath too. Was I willing her to breathe or willing myself to believe she would? Is there a difference?
The difference that I felt, this time, was one of resolve. When I said “you will,” I accepted it more readily. I felt still and steady. My will was made of stronger stuff after two years of being a parent. Two years of keeping a tiny human alive. Two years of the daily mantra;
You will.
I will.
We will.
෴ Belief system ෴
Will isn't anything more than hope and circumstance.
A cloudy crystal ball of wishes and expectation.
Magic words we whisper.
You will sleep.
You will wake .
Incantations we scream silently.
We will leave the house.
We will not forget anything.
Spells without any real power.
You will pee in the potty.
You will not throw your food.
Words we know but don’t want to say out loud.
You will get bigger.
You will grow up.
But parenting isn’t wizardry. Children grow without much intervention or tending. They hurdle forward, learning through action, through disaster, through success. Our wills as parents serve at most as guardrails. A net woven with good intentions.
Prayers on the wind.
An illusion.
A mirage.
෴ Page turn ෴
You will breathe.
You will feed me.
You will sleep.
You will hold me.
You will wake.
You will keep me safe.
After three months I’ve stopped staring at her while she sleeps to see if she’s breathing.
She smiles now. She coos and laughs. The spells we cast are more fun.
You will reach.
You will grasp.
You will roll.
Three months of S.
Thirty two months of J.
Four hundred and forty two months of me.
We will play
We will learn
We will love
We will survive.
We will.
I’ll write you again in a month, perhaps sooner, possibly later.
Willingly,
Hayley
Recently:
The Baltimore Banner: ‘Mom’: The complicated title that can obe our other identities
I’m exploring identity and parenting through visual narrative over at the Baltimore Banner. This will be a recurring column, which is very exciting for me. Engage with it on instagram | Read the whole piece here
Freebies:
* For Valentine’s day I illustrated some coloring pages for my son’s classroom party. I made them available for free download here!
* Juneteenth is also coming up. In 2020 I made a one-page primer zine about the significance of the day and it is always available for download here. Easy to print, fold, and distribute!
Lucky Mud:
We’ve re-opened our online shop, Lucky Mud Design! We have prints and greeting cards available, and will be expanding our inventory as time goes on.
*Free shipping for the entire month of June ;) *
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A Vibe:
Oh man, this was lovely and struck my heart. As a mum of two I've often whispered these same spells over my sleeping children.