For ten years I was a film journalist in New York. I wrote about all things movies and occasionally about girl stuff and social trends for such publications as Variety, Glamour, Interview and Time Out New York. I took one article I wrote for the New York Post—for which I pretended to look for a roommate as a ploy to meet guys—and turned it into a novel, Room for Love, which St. Martin’s Press published in September, 2007, around the time that my husband, Harlan, and I picked up and left New York for Los Angeles.
Pretty much the minute we moved to Venice, I got a job writing a horror screenplay for MGM, and it seemed that I’d entered a new chapter of my writing life. Then on February 29, 2008, the most mindblowing, beautiful day of my life, I had a baby: Aidan Wolf Bosmajian. And writing became a thing of the past, a hazy fantasy I couldn’t quite seem to wrap my hands around, a frustrated desire that kept slipping through my fingers like water.
I did complete that screenplay, for a remake of the awesome 70s flick Audrey Rose, and I started this blog to keep my fingers in shape, but my gorgeous little boy became my day, my night, my raison d’être, my raison de breathe. He also became a serious distraction from my computer, my words, the life of the mind. I went a little soft in the mind, actually, and sitting down at the computer generally made me feel an immediate urge to take a nap.
To make matters worse, the economy tanked and my husband and I found ourselves struggling to find work. On a whim, Harlan, a talented Director of Photography, applied for a tenure-track teaching position in Boston…and got it. So, we were on the road back East again, leaving my parents-slash-on-call babysitters, our vast, amazing group of friends and our beloved home five minutes from the beach to haul our crib and cats and kid and kaboodle to Cambridge, a town of chilly climes and chillier people—where we knew not a soul.
And then, probably literally the day I arrived in Cambridge and totally unexpectedly, I got pregnant.
And then, at 34 weeks, I lost the baby.
To say my world turned upside down is an understatement. The loss of our baby girl, Nina, made me question everything. I lost my faith, my happiness and my generally light and optimistic disposition.
However, there is Aidan, and Aidan was my reason to get out of bed in the days following Nina’s death and he is my reason for still believing, even after this tragedy, that life is beautiful and worth living. He also has an incredibly kind, generous and handsome father, who loves me even when I am at my neediest, angriest and ugliest. So, I do count myself among the lucky.
My gorgeous son is almost three now, and our relationship gets more complicated everyday. We are passionately in love and spend a lot of our time giggling and cuddling and playing with Hot Wheels Tracks. But our battles are epic, and he loves testing me, hitting me, and throwing toys out of the bath tub just to piss me off almost as much as he loves curling up next to me in bed and putting his hand down my shirt.
Aidan is in preschool three days a week, which gives me a break. During that time, I go to the gym—I’m still working off my last 15 post-partem pounds that don’t want to budge. And I deal with whatever errands and phone calls Aidan won’t let me attend to when he’s around. And I write, or I try to anyway, because I really need to get my life back.
This blog is about that process.