Roma

I met a magical mother on the banks of the Willamette River this week. As we spoke, I found myself reflecting on motherhood and how by choosing to create life, we also accept the inevitability of loss.

It has taken me years to heal from my own loss as a mother.

I named my first and second children after the town where I chose to become a mother and after my grandmother, Roma. My grandmother Roma died when my mother was eight, taken by cancer in her neck—a disease that had nearly claimed my mother’s life at age five. Thanks to my grandmother’s love, persistence, and intuition as both a mother and a nurse, she sought an experimental surgery that saved my mother’s life. Because of her, my mother and I are here today.

When I was pregnant with my first child, Roma, I felt an instinct to keep it private. I’m now grateful I trusted that intuition. At the time, I was a vendor at Seattle’s neighborhood farmers’ markets, a familiar face in the public eye. Yet, few noticed my growing belly, hidden beneath layers of puffy coats during those long, chilly market days. Roma was born just days before my birthday, in the heart of winter.

On the morning of December 20, 2016, I awoke to the devastating reality that my daughter, born perfectly healthy and vibrant just a day earlier, had passed.

Returning to the farmers’ market only a week later—after the joy of birthing and the tragedy of losing my beautiful baby girl—may have been too soon. Or perhaps it reflects my passion for delicious, nourishing food and my deep belief in sharing it with those I love. Perhaps it shows how that work is my lifeblood.

I chose to mother because of the beauty I found in my early days at Sea Breeze Farm, growing and crafting traditional food. I wanted to share that world with my children, to raise them in an environment that leaves an indelible imprint —one that can’t be replicated in adulthood.

In the past eight years, it’s been rare to see me without a little one in tow. Today, you’ll often find me carrying my children through the restaurant, tending to them while weaving them into my work. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Sharing my deepest passions with my children is a profound joy. Sharing those same passions with our beloved customers is equally delightful.

To me, nothing unites and brings joy to humanity quite like food—the one thing we all love and need.

No magic compares to the miracle of birth and motherhood. The overwhelming beauty of this journey is something I cherish deeply. So, I’m thrilled to share that George and I will welcome a new future farmer and food lover to our gaggle of feral farm children in August.

To all you mothers, I honor the love and loss you’ve experienced. Thank you for raising more beauty in this world.

If you’re so inclined, I’d be delighted to exchange Motherhood stories with you this week. We’re open for lunch from 12–3pm, Thursday - Sunday, with reservations also available for dinner, 6-9pm daily. Book below.

With all my love,

Happy Mother’s Day.

Love,