Resurfacing: notes from the deep

On giving birth, starting over, and finding creativity in the midst of change.

I'm writing this from my new home in Georgia, a place where I never expected to live. Both of my babes are napping and I’m sitting with that particular exhaustion that follows massive life change – when the rushing begins to subside and you can hear your own thoughts again, even if they're not yet fully formed.

It's been almost a year since I last wrote to you. A year that began with me living in California and getting laid off when I was 8.5 months pregnant – a moment that would set off a cascade of transformation I couldn't have predicted.

What followed was a season of profound surrender. I gave birth to our second child at home, and had a postpartum period that felt like a cosmic reset. Where my first journey into motherhood was clouded by postpartum anxiety, this time opened into something different – a deeper bonding, a gentler unfolding, as if my soul knew to trust the process even when my mind was uncertain. Don’t get me wrong, I was still bone tired and depleted, but I felt a sense of comfort in knowing how fleeting the newborn stage was.  

Then came the cross-country move with my husband Daniel and our 2-year-old and 6-month-old in tow. But "move" feels too linear a word for what actually happened. We left California without knowing exactly where we'd permanently land, entering a period of semi-nomadic chaos as we stayed with family and traveled, our lives distilled into a few boxes of clothes and toys. Even now, most of our possessions remain in a storage pod in California while we settle into a temporary rental house in Georgia. It may sound like we’re enlightened minimalists, but the truth is I really miss the familiar comfort of my dutch oven and favorite books. Through the move, each day brought its own puzzle as we orchestrated uprooting our entire family's life: researching new daycares, determining what would come with us and what would stay in the pod, finding pediatricians, the list goes on. Most days, I felt like I was hardly able to lay the tracks in front of me fast enough to keep the train of our lives moving forward.

And then about a month ago, I started a new job at Adobe focused on fostering creative community – work that feels aligned with what I've always believed: that transformation happens when we gather together to support each other's creative dreams. But I'll be honest: most days still feel like constant improvisation, requiring energy I'm not always sure I have. Every part of my life feels like it’s in startup mode, as if the new baby, new state, and new job are all planes trying to take off from the runway at the same time.

Yet here's what I keep coming back to: creativity isn't just about making art or launching projects – sometimes it's about the raw, messy work of recreating our very lives. What if the most creative act is simply staying open to transformation, even when it arrives in packages we didn't order?

I've missed this space, this circle of creative, soulful souls. While almost everything else in my life has shifted (thank you, Daniel, for being the exception and such a constant rock <3), I still believe deeply in what brings us together: that we're here on earth to be connected, that we are all innately creative beings, and that our souls need stillness to hear the quiet voice within.

As I resurface, I'm curious about where you are in your own journey of creation. Maybe you too are navigating seismic changes, or perhaps you're in a moment of stillness, sensing movement beneath the surface. Wherever you are, I invite you to take a moment to reflect:

* What are you being asked to surrender to in this season of your life?

* What do you feel the pull to recreate or reimagine?

* What wisdom is emerging in the spaces between what was and what will be?

I can't promise weekly letters yet – I'm still learning to mother two littles and how my new job works and where the heck to shop for groceries in our new city. But I can promise to show up here authentically, to share the unvarnished truth of balancing creative dreams with real life, and to continue holding space for the magic that happens when women gather to support each other's visions.

With lots of light,

Alanna

P.S. If you're in the midst of your own reinvention, I'd love to hear your story – just reply to this email.