At home with …Alexa Wilding & sons

“In our house it’s all about the nighttime rituals. For me: a glass of rose; Palo Santo sticks; meditation beads from Mama Malas; soft moleskin journals and multi-colored Le Pen’s bath salts and beeswax candles; and Good Fight Herb Company’s Sleep Tight Tincture. For the boys: Angel Dear lovies; Weleda baby oil for massages; lavender sachets for under their pillows (knocks them out cold!); and a pink pyramid salt lamp, the best purifying night light.”

“I had always planned on becoming a mother, I just didn’t know when. In the spring of 2012, my world felt like it was falling apart. My music career was going nowhere, and my husband, Ian and I were having serious problems. So I decided to get pregnant. Such a cliché to think a baby would make everything better, but that’s what I did. I told everyone right away; I felt like I was finally winning! But then, at 12 weeks, I started bleeding. I was at Citi Bakery, and I remember feeling like someone had thrown a pie in my face. I ran to my OB. We listened for a heart beat but there was silence. I will never forget that sound. It reminded me of holding a seashell to my ear as a child. I listened as my ego dissipated into the void. I learned humility and surrender in that silence, and for that I am forever grateful to my first baby, who I called Poppy. She made me a mother and paved the way for the wild adventure to come.”

On Alexa: Ace & Jig dress

“Luckily, I was pregnant again two months after losing Poppy. Ian and I bonded so fiercely after that loss; so in a sense, the baby did solve our problems as a couple. That said, I was a mess. I was convinced something would go wrong again. I also didn’t want to go back to my OB; I never wanted to see that room again! So we started working with a midwife and planning a home-birth. But she was super hands-off and kept telling me to ‘just be pregnant,’ which I couldn’t do….”

On Alexa: Ace & Jig dress

“I called a new OB practice at eight weeks, begging for an ultrasound. I needed to see the baby and hear its heart beat. The only available OB was a man, and I had never seen a male gynecologist before, which only added to my nerves! I remember he smeared the jelly over my stomach, started poking around with the wand, and then there was silence. ‘What!’ I screamed. ‘There’s a baby,’ he said, ‘and…’ ‘And what?’ More silence. ‘Do I have a cyst?’ He laughed. ‘No, you have another baby!’ I ended up adoring my OB. He was very old-fashioned and I think he got a kick out of me: the neurotic, ever-growing twin mama running up and down Fifth Avenue in her muumuus.”

“My OB kept saying the boys would come early, but my cervix was still clamped shut at 36 weeks (almost term for twins). I was so uncomfortable (the boys were 7 pounds each) we scheduled an induction. While I didn’t have a detailed birth plan, my OB was supportive and optimistic of my having a natural, vaginal birth. But when we got to the hospital (at midnight, for insurance reasons) we were met with an exhausted resident who stuck what felt like his entire arm inside me. It hurt so much that he insisted I get an epidural. I spent the next sixteen hours refusing one as he kept upping the Petocin…”

“My doula, Odile helped me laugh through contractions like I was a teenager and we sang Lilith Fair hits (much to Ian’s chagrin) into the early morning. By then I was so exhausted that when my OB showed up to break my water I panicked. If one more person stuck their entire arm inside me I was going to scream! So I asked for an epidural, and when it kicked in, I wondered why I hadn’t gotten it sooner! But I still wasn’t dilating; it turns out West was wrapped around the cord. ‘Failure to progress’ they kept saying, and they wheeled me in for surgery. I kept hearing the word ‘failure’ as they cut me open. I saw myself singing to no one; I remembered losing Poppy. But then I looked up at Ian, and we heard West’s cries, and then Lou’s. I’m still trying to describe that feeling.”

“As they wheeled me in for an emergency c-section, I remember thinking: okay, so now I’m having the birth the Ricky Lake movie said I shouldn’t be having. But you know what? My boys were born! We all recovered. Go easy on yourself. After all that planning, when things start rolling you’re probably going to forget that you wanted geranium essential oil diffused in the room. We all forgot that I wanted to keep the placenta! Be flexible and get that baby (or babies!) out safely.”

“Nothing could have prepared me for the loss of my own time. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I thought I’d work around the babies. As a creative person, and a highly sensitive person, I depend on a certain amount of input-output in order to function at my best. Writing and making music is how I process the world. Suddenly not having that time meant I was seriously backed up in how I was experiencing reality; in other words, I wasn’t coping well! Looking back, I didn’t line up enough support at home after Ian went back to work. It was only during Lou’s illness that I truly learned to take care of myself (and gather our village) so I could best care for the boys.”

“Lou was mysteriously ill for months leading up to his and West’s first birthday. He stopped nursing, he couldn’t hold food down. He woke every fifteen minutes in the night. Our pediatricians were at a loss; he was misdiagnosed multiple times in the emergency room. I was beside myself as I knew something was wrong, although it never occurred to me that it was a brain tumor. Finally, I saw a new pediatrician, who thought to measure his head – she knew. She sent us for scans and told me to meet her in the ER after. I revisit the walk to the ER constantly. Maybe it’s PTSD. I knew we had to go, but I knew what awaited us was going to change everything….”

“When I got to the hospital, she introduced me to the neurosurgeon who explained what was wrong. Truly, a part of me died when I handed Lou over to him. Miraculously, Lou didn’t, though they almost lost him twice on the operating table. After the surgery, I slept with Lou at the hospital for almost two weeks, thinking the worst was behind us. But then the pathology report came back. Lou’s tumor, benign 99% of the time, was malignant. While the surgeon removed all of it, and Lou was technically cancer-free, to be safe he had to undergo six months of in-patient high-dose chemo and stem cell replacement therapy. I’m not going to lie, it was a nightmare. Ian and I switched out nights at the hospital so a parent was always with West. We were in isolation, wearing masks, gowns and gloves. But like all epic journeys, there were magical characters and moments along the way. We just had to make it home. Cancer forces a parent to acknowledge that they alone can’t protect their child. This is a heartbreaking surrender; it feels unnatural. But in the end, it freed us from the painful illusion that we can control our children’s fates. We can’t. We can, however, love them fearlessly, and be of selfless service to them.”

“I have to check myself on a daily basis, as I start obsessing. If this milk is organic but not non-GMO, will a bottle of it give Lou cancer again? Even though the tumor wasn’t genetic, is West going to get sick, too? I’ll be perfectly honest, it’s a rabbit hole that I fight going down. And it’s a choice. I still come up against control issues. It’s much easier to fret than to be present and brave. So I work with that choice, I’m trying to make friends with it. I’m a better mother when I just relax, take them out for a greasy pizza and enjoy every single second of their company – even when they’re throwing pepperoni at me. But it has alienated me a bit from other mothers. It’s hard to relate when they’re fretting over two days of Tylenol and your child got nuked for six months. I’ve come to accept my role as the one who gently and humorously gives perspective. But sometimes I let myself just complain so I can feel like everyone else. I need that, too.”

“I’m super low-maintenance thankfully! But since becoming a mother I like products that do double-duty. My RMS concealer works as a foundation; my Jane Iredale powder has SPF, and I use Lipstick Queen Saint in Rust as a blush, too. An eyelash curler has saved my life and makes me look awake even when I feel like I’m tripping. I’m a Dr. Hauschka devotee, although now I’m also using these facial oils my friend Jessa Blades (Blades Natural Beauty) carries from India. They smell so good they double as perfume! Lastly, I have a wash and go haircut that requires zero styling (although I love John Masters Sea Salt spray for waves). And that’s it! I like to think I’ve got a French girl thing going but I probably just look like an exhausted hippy.”

On Alexa: dress by Ace & Jig, Scosha jewelry

On the twins: cowboy shirts from Five and Diamond Vintage

“I try to make the in-between times count. I’ll give myself an extra half hour before picking the boys up so I can get a coffee and wander (I’m a big daydreamer so I schedule time for it!). On the nights I had graduate school, I would have the sitter or my parents come an hour early so I could pop into a shop or grab an early dinner before class. Also, I’ve become a master of the impromptu plan. The stars often have to align at the last minute (no fevers, a babysitter) for me to make an opening or meet up for a drink. My friends (especially friends without children) have learned to be flexible!”

On Alexa: dress by Ace & Jig, Scosha jewelry

On the twins: cowboy shirts from Five and Diamond Vintage

“Schedule date nights. I know everyone says this, but it’s the only way we get to experience each other outside of being Mommy and Daddy. I need to spend time in my sexy shoes and not just my Mommy slippers (even if they sparkle). Also, don’t let your home become a romper room! Keep some areas toy-free so your space doesn’t turn into what Ian and I call ‘The Death of Sex.'”

“I care way too much about what other people think. Learning to let go and embrace the fact that we are a loud, at times emotional, traveling circus has been really hard for me. Before becoming a mother, I was a really controlled person. As a performer, I was always aware of my audience. Motherhood has beaten the crap out of me in so many beautiful ways. I feel like I walk around black and blue with my heart bleeding outside my body. People may gasp and judge. I’m a (hopefully hot) mess.”

“Being a (hopefully hot) mess! Witnessing the daily death of my ego (and sometimes my dignity!) in the service of little humans. Sometimes changing their bedding can feel like an act of religious devotion! (Other times, not so much). I realize that while motherhood has not been the easiest ride for me thus far, I was in much more pain before I had the boys. You couldn’t pay me to be her again – even though she had really cute perky boobs.”

“I really engage with them. Boys are a riot! I get down on the floor, up in their train sets. I become the monster, I play endless rounds of hide and seek. Having a child who is a cancer survivor, who has a prognosis, albeit a good one, means I can’t think too far ahead. When I do, I panic. So I meet them right where they are, under the sofa fort, in the jungle gym, and I stay there until we tuck them in at night and do it all over again in the morning.”

“At night, after the boys go down, I sit by their beds in the glow of the pink salt lamp, which we had in the hospital with us. I admire how gorgeous they are. I thank whoever is up there for giving us another day. I laugh at all the mistakes I made. And I’m getting better at thanking myself for doing the best I could.”

On Alexa: dress by Ace & Jig, Scosha jewelry

“I’m proud of my sense of humor. I can take a step back and look at how bonkers and hilariously humiliating everything is. Like when one of them has pooped on my foot or smeared a Popsicle across a dress I couldn’t really afford. That said, I wish I was easier on myself. When they both need me at the same time at different ends of the house sometimes I have to lock myself in the bathroom just to catch my breath.”

“I spent my twenties recording and performing as a singer-songwriter. I wanted to be the next Stevie Nicks! But the last tour I went on before becoming at pregnant thirty-one was brutal; we sang to like three people every night. It was really disheartening. I realized that music, and everything it required of me, was no longer feeding my spirit; rather, it was depleting me. During Lou’s treatment, my friend Molly encouraged me to write. I sent her pages, unabashedly longing for the road, for my old body, my old life, even though I was in the hospital with my child. Was I the worst person in the world? Maybe, so might as well get it on paper! Reconnecting with my artistic practice (I also wrote and recorded my third album during that time) was empowering. I was starting again, with Lou cancer-free, and I felt stronger and more capable as a mama. I also finished an MFA program in writing, where I officially started turning the ‘hospital writing’ into a memoir that deals with all of the above. Stay tuned!”