Recently, while putting my class together for my Ma Pregnancy submission, I was contemplating Sthira Sukha Asanam, from the Yoga Sutras 2.46. This sutra from Patanjali has always resonated with me in times of disturbance or challenge.
I sometimes dream I give birth to goats. When I wake up, I’m sad my baby is not there. I’m a little disappointed it was not real. Sometimes it’s a goat, sometimes two babies, sometimes a thing, but the birth itself is always pleasant, as if it were something I’m supposed to be doing. There’s no fear, I can’t recall pain. It’s not beautiful either. It’s just what it is. The dream builds up to the moment of the birth, there’s chaos. I must find a safe place and be surrounded by the right people. There are no rules, it’s just a feeling of safety that I’m after. And when I’m there I’ll be ready to let myself go and I know I’ll know what to do.
Having experienced more than my fair share of trauma in my life, I was often times in need of tools without awareness that I needed tools – or that tools for such things even existed.
Having experienced more than my fair share of trauma in my life, I was often times in need of tools without awareness that I needed tools – or that tools for such things even existed.
When I first connected with Ma Yoga, I had been looking for a way to fulfill my desire to reconnect deeply with yoga. Both my own practice and my role as a teacher had become dropped threads in my life, and I was called to repair the tapestry. However, this time it was different . I was a new mom myself, and had a second baby on the way.
One thing no one ever tells you about becoming a mother is that you’ll never be the same person again. Nothing in your life will ever be the same again.
Baby girl (*Evie: life; breath; woman who enjoys life. Do I call her by name? Or leave it more general?*)
There are two things I have wanted more than anything else in this life: to share my forever with my truest love and to be called “mama”. Life’s twists and turns had plopped me on a path that looked nothing like the one I had always dreamed of.
When I started my prenatal yoga training, I expected to learn anatomy, breathwork, movement,
and maybe a few new ways to support pregnant bodies through labor and birth. I did learn all of
those things. But what surprised me most was how much the training asked me to examine my
relationship with the feminine itself.
Motherhood deserves specialized care and attention. This viewpoint developed early in my nursing career as my passion for nursing evolved into a passion for obstetric nursing. I was “floated” from my Med/Surg unit to the maternity ward, to cover for a nurse who called out sick.
I never imagined that my journey to becoming a prenatal yoga instructor would begin with something I had to let go of. Before becoming a prenatal yoga instructor, I was a hot yoga instructor. I loved the heat, the intensity, the challenge, and the way yoga made me feel strong in my body. Teaching hot yoga was something I was passionate about. Then I experienced a miscarriage.
Recently, while putting my class together for my Ma Pregnancy submission, I was contemplating Sthira Sukha Asanam, from the Yoga Sutras 2.46. This sutra from Patanjali has always resonated with me in times of disturbance or challenge.
I sometimes dream I give birth to goats. When I wake up, I’m sad my baby is not there. I’m a little disappointed it was not real. Sometimes it’s a goat, sometimes two babies, sometimes a thing, but the birth itself is always pleasant, as if it were something I’m supposed to be doing. There’s no fear, I can’t recall pain. It’s not beautiful either. It’s just what it is. The dream builds up to the moment of the birth, there’s chaos. I must find a safe place and be surrounded by the right people. There are no rules, it’s just a feeling of safety that I’m after. And when I’m there I’ll be ready to let myself go and I know I’ll know what to do.
Having experienced more than my fair share of trauma in my life, I was often times in need of tools without awareness that I needed tools – or that tools for such things even existed.
Having experienced more than my fair share of trauma in my life, I was often times in need of tools without awareness that I needed tools – or that tools for such things even existed.
When I first connected with Ma Yoga, I had been looking for a way to fulfill my desire to reconnect deeply with yoga. Both my own practice and my role as a teacher had become dropped threads in my life, and I was called to repair the tapestry. However, this time it was different . I was a new mom myself, and had a second baby on the way.
One thing no one ever tells you about becoming a mother is that you’ll never be the same person again. Nothing in your life will ever be the same again.
Baby girl (*Evie: life; breath; woman who enjoys life. Do I call her by name? Or leave it more general?*)
There are two things I have wanted more than anything else in this life: to share my forever with my truest love and to be called “mama”. Life’s twists and turns had plopped me on a path that looked nothing like the one I had always dreamed of.
When I started my prenatal yoga training, I expected to learn anatomy, breathwork, movement,
and maybe a few new ways to support pregnant bodies through labor and birth. I did learn all of
those things. But what surprised me most was how much the training asked me to examine my
relationship with the feminine itself.
Motherhood deserves specialized care and attention. This viewpoint developed early in my nursing career as my passion for nursing evolved into a passion for obstetric nursing. I was “floated” from my Med/Surg unit to the maternity ward, to cover for a nurse who called out sick.
I never imagined that my journey to becoming a prenatal yoga instructor would begin with something I had to let go of. Before becoming a prenatal yoga instructor, I was a hot yoga instructor. I loved the heat, the intensity, the challenge, and the way yoga made me feel strong in my body. Teaching hot yoga was something I was passionate about. Then I experienced a miscarriage.