The Significance of a Flower in the Desert
How an act of creativity became a motherhood milestone.
When my husband Michael and I were dating, I used to joke with him that if we broke up, I would forever be haunted by his flowers. At that time, he used the streets as his canvas, pasting paper flowers and later painting freehand blooms wherever we went. Years have passed since those carefree days when I was his sidekick, videographer, and getaway driver. However, we still occasionally stumble upon one of his flowers—reminders of our journey together.
I'm writing from Joshua Tree, where we're vacationing with our daughters. Our last visit here in 2017 was markedly different—a time of profound loss and uncertainty. We had lost our son Christopher, who was stillborn due to my uterine rupture a couple of years before. Our daughter Avellina, died in a Kentucky hospital in January 2017, after a long journey of IVF and surrogacy. It was Mother's Day weekend, and despite my role as a daughter and as a stepmother, I struggled to find joy in the holiday.
We were in limbo then. Our final round of IVF was complete, with embryos out for genetic testing. Our surrogacy agency had generously offered to waive their fees for a second attempt, and we were waiting to be matched with a gestational carrier. The beauty of Joshua Tree, with its stark landscape and resilient flora, seemed to mirror our tentative hope.
During that trip, we discovered an abandoned gas station—the perfect canvas for one of Michael's flowers. With paint from a local hardware store, he adorned an empty billboard with a bloom that matched the desert sky. If you asked us to tell you how to get to the billboard, we wouldn’t know what to say except that it was at a four-way stop.
Fast forward to February 2021. Our first surrogate, who had carried Avellina, texted us a photo of the flower. It was a beautiful and magical moment for her and her family, and it was very cool for us to see the flower still standing yet missing some petals at the top.
Yesterday, we drove past that same billboard. This time, our car held the fulfillment of our dreams: our daughter Carolina, now six. We pulled over, and Carolina stood before the faded flower for a photo. She thought it was cool to see a flower that Daddy painted in the desert at an old abandoned gas station. But the significance didn’t register for her. When the flower was painted, we could only dream of one day revisiting it with the child we longed for. Yet here we were.
Saying I am grateful does not do justice to the full-circle feeling of being back at this spot with Carolina. In parenting, there’s a saying: The days are long, but the years are short. It applies to infertility, too. Each day, I worried about how I’d get to the fertility clinic before my first meeting, how we’d fund our next round of IVF and surrogacy, what our genetic results would be, when we would be matched with a carrier, and if our fertilized egg would become a healthy baby. Yet it was only 14 months after our trip to the desert that we’d welcome Carolina.
If you're facing your own struggles, remember this: Each day may feel like an uphill battle, but one day, you might look back from the other side, marveling at how far you've come. Hold onto hope—it has the power to bloom even in the harshest deserts.
Words of the Week:
“A flower is relatively small... Still in a way—nobody sees a flower—so I said to myself—I'll paint it big.” - Georgia O’Keeffe
Photo of the Week:
The closest Michael’s paintings get to the street these days are when they’re transported from his studio to a show or collector’s home. I love the above painting, entitled, “Make myself a bed by the waterside.” This photo was taken in March 2023 when he had a show just a few blocks from his studio and my stepdaughter, Marianna, was his art handler. To follow Michael’s work and see the art world through his eyes, follow him on Instagram.
A Dreamy Writer’s Retreat:
Earlier this year, I met author Carol Weston during her Prompt! writing session at The New York Society Library. We’ve developed a lovely connection and she’s become a mentor and cheerleader for me and my work. I wanted to share an opportunity to write with Carol in an incredible setting in Bordeaux, France next May. If you’re interested, details are in this PDF or on the Forward Retreats website.
Infertility Coaching
Several of you reached out after I shared that I’ve rekindled my coaching business. Often, when you or someone you know experiences infertility or a loss, it’s hard to know what to do next. As a dedicated fertility, loss, and parenthood coach, I offer not just support, but a partnership in personal growth. With genuine empathy and unwavering commitment, I help navigate the complex emotions and decisions surrounding fertility, loss, and parenthood to transform obstacles into opportunities.
“I can't say it enough, but thank you SO much for all the introductions, emails, and your time. We have felt very alone throughout this process but meeting you has been the absolute best. thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
- Mother-to-be who found new hope through surrogacy after loss
To learn more, check out the coaching section of my website.
Beautiful written! What a journey but at the end of the journey pure joy!
Hi Lia! Your writing continues to be a beacon of hope. I'm truly grateful for your lovely words of encouragement, as I navigate this journey with my daughter. Thank you, and God bless you and Michael for sharing your precious gifts.