The Mother Starter

I guess this vision began in Sedona, during the weekend of my birthday, but it has taken several drafts to land on the true message. I decided to go on a yoga retreat with women I had never met before to reconnect with myself, as the previous year had been quite rough. I had left my 29-year career at the hospital after experiencing a full-blown burnout and had gone to work with my husband, a situation we had discussed for decades but always found reasons to avoid. 

The word I chose for this retreat was "trust," which remains engraved on a bracelet I made while I was there. I rested, I connected, we moved, we journaled, we released, we laughed, we cried, and on the last night, I received a call from my sister informing me that my mother was being airlifted to a hospital for emergency surgery due to a bowel obstruction. In that moment, I realized I might never talk to my mother again. Decades of nursing told me this situation was dire, and I tried to support my sister's hope with a healthy dose of preparation for what could happen, ensuring she told our mother how much she loved her and how we all cherished her. My mom's last words were, “Tell everyone I love them.”

Being back in the ICU at her bedside confirmed my fears about the seriousness of her condition, with the number and concentration of life support infusions and machines surrounding her. Her nurses were magical, providing not only the highest level of physical care but also seeing her as our mother, effortlessly honoring her spirit.

We said our goodbyes, surrounded by her favorite music and each other, three sisters and one mother. 

I stayed back with my oldest sister, making phone calls and arrangements in the little town in Maine that had become our mother's favorite place. After lunch one day, we went into a small kitchen shop next to her beloved quilt store, where I bought two butterfly kitchen towels and a packet of sourdough starter. My soul seemed to know what was coming long before I did, and the starter sat in a drawer for over two years until I recently decided to scan the QR code on the back and bring it to life.

I had already started a platform called "A Well-Built Life" to share our stories, primarily for our kids as part of our family legacy. But my mom kept showing up in our narratives, in her never-ending quest for health, her quilts, her love for us, and the way we still talk about her as if she’s here, especially during football season or when we pass a Dunkin' Donuts. The starter came alive alongside five others I made from scratch, all bubbling over my kitchen counter. Anyone who knows me understands that I get excited when I have an idea, and naturally, I envisioned opening a bakery with all the sourdough. This brings us back to trust. I didn’t think all of them would work, so I thought I should start a bunch.

Overwhelmed with all the bubbling starters and a full-time job, I decided to focus solely on the Mother Starter, as it was progressing consistently. The more I researched, the more I realized I could actually bake as much as I wanted with just one thriving starter. So, I tossed all the others and returned our glass containers to the cabinet. Mother flourished, allowing me to divide it into three other containers for my sisters and my oldest niece.

Those starters are now tucked into the fridge, properly fed until I can hand them off to their new homes, and my starter is teaching me about myself and life with every feeding and loaf.

My first loaf was an act of trust in myself and the process. I kept hesitating, fearing that I would kill the starter or that my loaf wouldn’t turn out well. I worried I wouldn’t have enough time, but then I realized: it’s simply flour and water. I have three others in the fridge that I can divide if I use it all, so it was time to simply start. 

I actually called my first loaf "Simba" because I felt like I was holding it up for all to see at 4:30 a.m. in my kitchen before heading to work.

"Starters and Seedlings" became the platform where I could share my thoughts, lessons, and legacy. I learned how my tendency to rush to the finish line exemplifies my lack of trust in the process and external factors, while my procrastination reflects my deficit of self-trust.

My Mother Starter, my relationship with her and my sisters, and my husband’s letter are all starters, things that require nurturing and trust. My children, my tiny lilac bush that I planted and am watering, and this platform are my seedlings. They continuously teach me about the five threads of "A Well-Built Life" through lessons in health, connection, purpose, freedom, and legacy, all woven together by trust.

Of course Mother Starter thrives on the porch under the tv. Football season is coming!