My Perfect Practice

I do not look like a Yogini.  No one will ever describe me as lithe, feather-light, willowy, dancer-esque (Fergie would describe me as having lovely-lady-lumps) or exclaim out of nowhere "haven't I seen you modeling for Lululemon?" or even "you must do yoga!" but nonetheless, I am a yogini.  I live yoga every day, both on and off the mat.  Sometimes, thoughts are of asana or movement, or how I really want to stand on my head, or balance on my arms, or just rest in a blissed-out downdog.  At school, I will close my office door and stretch, bend, move, and breathe.  Sometimes my 'yogic thoughts' and actions are about living my life more honestly, or being better to this earth, or being a better version of me. 

My daughter, Bellabean, is sleeping right now in the perfect savasana.  A little smile flickers across her face intermittently, but everything else is limp.  During my pregnancy, I practiced yoga, including throughout my labor.  I attended the same classes as always and added prenatal yoga.  I went to class the morning after I found out I was pregnant and started telling my teachers that I would love suggestions for modifications as the pregnancy progressed and that I would make changes myself when needed - they really let me on my own as I just did what felt right. I tried to think about the purpose of the poses and find a way to honor that purpose and honor my body at the same time.  I had a bad fall from a headstand last year, so I swore those off for pregnancy.  At ten weeks, a simple twist would make me so nauseous I thought there was no way I would make it through a class so I skipped the twists until they felt better, and then still avoided deep twists.  By week twelve, it already felt wrong to do poses on my tummy, so I did them on my knees or back.  By week 30, lying flat on my back, even for a minute, was not the right thing, so I moved to my side or lifted my hips in legs up the wall.  By week 37, I was exhausted and focused on resting and preparing, so we stopped attending "regular" classes and stuck with prenatal and practice at home. By week 39, I was ready, listening, and open to labor.

I always heard my teachers say "listen to your body", but I never actually heard it speak to me (or was unwilling to listen) until I was pregnant.  I have strained my neck or hamstrings a number of times in my practice over the past few years (at least once a year.)  This time, however, my body was her body and you better believe I was going to listen to her.  It felt amazing to truly respect my edges and never push too far, but find out what my perfect practice and edge was each and every day.  The nine months of listening intently to my body in yoga prepared me for the days of labor (in its various stages) and the signals that my body provided.  Bellabean's birth was a life-alteringly powerful and empowering experience and it was a continuation of my practice, but it wasn't practice.  It was the real deal. I am so happy that I learned to listen to this body.