“You two can go, but the baby has to stay.”
It was March of 2020.
We were at the Houston airport, about to board the last plane that would fly from Texas to Australia for two years.
The time was 10:47pm, our toddler had an ear infection, I was in the first trimester of my second pregnancy, and the craziness of the past three days had cemented our brains in thick fog.
With a deadpan expression to rival Alan Rickman, the flight attendant held up her hand to stop us from passing.
“Your son doesn’t hold Australian citizenship. You two can go, but the baby has to stay.”
Fast forward to an hour of heated, gesticulated conversations with Australian immigration, our son having eaten 14 hours of snacks from the top of the orange roller suitcase, and there we stood, watching the plane fly off.
So began my “after.”
But let’s take a step back…
I last wrote many of you in January 2020 with the article “Hasten Slowly: why we mustn’t rush with blind ambition into the new year.”
Shortly after that post went out, the world as we knew it shifted.
(A surprisingly prophetic call to action, perhaps?!)
Each of us had a moment during the pandemic that became the dividing line between two parts of our lives: The Before, where we had stability, predictability, familiar purpose; and The After, where none of that existed.
My moment happened three days prior to being stranded-in-the-international-airport-eating-rock-cakes-from-a-suitcase.
Covid was just becoming real when out of the blue my husband was offered a job in Sydney. We received the call at midnight and had less than 72 hours to be on a plane before Australian borders closed.
There really wasn’t much time to think. Who knew what to even think about? “Hasten Slowly” no longer felt terribly applicable.
So after almost 10 years in America, we grabbed a bag and our kid, locked our house, and headed out the door.
Such began some of the toughest times for our family, our marriage, and for my own identity.
It was a period of unravelling, of rethreading, of introspection and volcanic eruption, of holding grief and joy in slippery fingers, of trying to be a functioning human and a present mum.
And so I stopped writing to you.
Not because I wanted to. But, you know, capacity over capability, and all that.
And then life just kept happening.
No longer in any major way but just in the constantness that is being at home with two young kids: cooking (always), laundry (always), negotiating dessert, playing, making friends, cuddling (always), sleeping (rarely).
We moved again during this time…to a different state in Australia…after buying a house on the internet…because more stress is the answer to life’s big existential questions.
It was an adjustment. It took time to settle. It reminded us of the importance of community.
Along the way we mourned the loss of people we love and were reminded how fleeting and precious our time on earth really is.
I came to realise that whilst the battle scars of early motherhood are here to stay (darker bags, deeper lines, greying temples), so too are the gifts of loving harder, living more freely, and breathing in the smallest moments as if they’re air itself.
Life fluctuated: mundane, monumental, miserable, magical.
And four years went by, as if in a moment.
Which brings me to a long overdue –
“Hello!
How are you?
I’ve missed you!
Can we do this again?”
And to mention that I’ve found a new writing home on the internet with this newsletter, whereby we use curiosity, creativity and community to boost our wellness, manage unhealthy patterns, and generally give more of a shit about the way we live our lives and interact with the world around us.
Because if the last few years have taught us anything, we don’t have time to waste.
From moloch to Granny Hobbies, community building to pragmatic self-appreciation, we will explore every avenue to encourage the shift away from aesthetic wellness and productivity, and toward living a life of authenticity.
It’s an expansive time to re-enter, I think.
And I’m excited to reconnect with you, on the other side of that dividing line of 2020.
My hope here is to hold a space where we become comfortable risking routine for moments that matter. Where we set a better example for young girls around body image, purpose and value. And where we feel well, simply.
Because it’s four years on and I still believe that health is the vehicle, not the destination.
If you’re happy to continue receiving newsletters from me, you don’t have to do anything. I hope to write something new every week for now.
If you’ve read this far and you think that my writing no longer resonates with you. That’s absolutely fine. Click here to unsubscribe.
Either way, I would love to hear from you, it’s been too long. Please leave a comment or send me an email and tell me how you are, where you are, and what’s been going on since we last spoke.
Yours,
Jenn xx
P.S. Yes, with a frantic shift in itinerary and a race across the country, we were able to catch the final plane leaving SFO the following night. I’ll never look at jet lag the same way again.
P.P.S. What’s bothering you about the wellness industry lately? The filters and fakery? The perfect meal planning? The lack of human fallibility in those that choose to sit at the front? Let me know in the comments!
Wow. What stress. Oh my gosh. I guess you went back home and then found a different way to leave? Welcome back to writing!!! I look forward to reading more in the future, from you.