So, why the name Emerald Bird?

Hi! I’m Allison. I’m about to get real honest here.

Nearly four years ago, I gave birth to the firecracker we named Evelyn…otherwise known as Birdie. Her hair stuck up like the fuzzy feathers on fledgling bird’s head, and the name stuck. Evelyn also means “little bird,” so, I guess you could call it destiny. Also, her birthstone is emerald.

Birdie swept into my life like a flash of colors so vibrant, it felt like I’d never seen the world until I knew her. After we tried for over four years to have her, there she was… fuzzy-headed and perfect, and my life transformed.

For a while, that transformation felt overwhelming and the woman I was before her all but disappeared. Before Birdie, I spent my days writing novels, taking photos, and doing yoga. It had taken me 29 years to settle into that woman. I was on the cusp of peace… not fully okay, but I was well on my way there… and then all of a sudden, I was a mother, and my baby was colicky, and every waking moment was consumed with anxiety, and slowly, day by day, I lost myself. Every cry caused a sharp stab of anxiety in my chest. I constantly worried I would accidentally hurt her. While my friends had babies who liked to sleep, ate without issues, and happily cooed all the time, I was barely able to soothe her for five minutes. There was no more space for the things I was passionate about. You feel me, moms? Our lactation consultant (who bore a striking resemblance to Joan Cusack) called her “spiiiicy,” and she couldn’t have been more correct. And, I continued losing myself for the next three years, because even as she grew, I couldn’t seem to find that spark anymore. I kept telling myself it would return when she was a little older. “When the newborn stage is over… when she’s sleeping better at night… when she can entertain herself… when… when… when…”

I couldn’t understand how mothers around me were back to their workouts six weeks postpartum, jogging in their Lululemon leggings while pushing a stroller down the lane. I compared myself to my author friends who were finishing novels with a newborn strapped to them. Why couldn’t I snap out of it? On one hand, I was filled with so much joy and so completely obsessed with my baby. But, on the other, I felt no joy in life anymore. Who knew that postpartum depression and anxiety could last so long?

One night, three years later, with yesterday’s clothes on and a tear-soaked face, I told my husband I couldn’t live like this anymore. So, I started going to therapy. I dove deep into my childhood with my therapist and learned that so much of what I was carrying as a mother was a result of my own wounds. I saw doctors and learned I have a type of autonomic nervous system dysfunction that causes weakness, exhaustion, and anxiety. With proper treatment for my physical and mental state, I started seeing daylight again. I started… creating again.

But this time, it was different. I found myself creating art with new eyes, eyes that could absorb the richness of life and hands that could create something from it. And it was so, so liberating. Though I have far to go, I cannot wait to see where this journey takes me, and I hope Birdie watches this healing version of her mommy and finds inspiration to pursue what nourishes her soul.

Birdie has taught me more about myself in six years than I ever knew before. Without being challenged to my limit, I never would have sought the treatment I needed to find my way to a full, rich life. She is the reason my spark is back. She is the reason I can’t stop creating. She turned my life upside down and then gave me a reason to live. So, it was only fitting to name my business after her.