By Nicole Horne
The third trimester came upon me quickly, and those final months seemed to both speed by and drag on. By the 30th week, my belly had swelled significantly, and “normal” practice became all but impossible. I at first maintained the modifications established during the second trimester but eventually shortened asana practice to a sweet 30 to 45 minutes (including savasana). Most of the primary series had become uncomfortable: I was too big to really do any forward folds and felt clumsy maneuvering through most of the postures. So, I focused more on meditation and breathing, sitting for at least 15 minutes before moving slowly and mindfully through sun salutations, standing sequence, and, as often as possible, long holds of butterfly, pigeon and straddle. I then moved on to camel, did some delicious upper back stretches at the wall, and ended with a short closing sequence.
I made it a point to practice most days and incorporated longer walks into my routine, especially when I could not make it to the studio. By the final weeks, asana served not only as physical conditioning in preparation for labor but also helped to instill calm and patience. My son was born nearly two weeks late, and by the time the estimated due date had come and gone, the waiting game had become incredibly difficult. I noticed a stark difference in my ability to manage my anticipation on days I did practice and a greater increase in anxiety on days I didn’t. Some of the best advice I received during pregnancy was “enjoy where you are.” It’s very easy to want things to speed up, specially when you are so close to meeting the little one growing inside of you. Connecting with the breath and meditating on this new life helped me savor those last days and weeks. I was able to remind myself of the preciousness of that tranquil period preceding the wild transformation to come.
By the time I went into labor, I knew the practice would serve me well. The labor was extremely long, with contractions beginning slowly on Thursday evening (though my son was not born until Sunday afternoon). The experience was difficult and exhausting and magical and empowering and completely unexpected. There were moments of intense emotion and great doubt, but I remained, for the most part, sure of myself and my ability to cope, consciously riding the waves of the contractions, breathing audibly, and maintaining an awareness of all that was happening within and around. I thank the practice for this, for my capacity to remain “present,” as the midwife openly remarked throughout the entire process. There was a minor complication, and in the end, our birth plan had to change. But it was surprisingly easy to let go and see what was happening in front of me, as it was and not as I thought it should be.
I felt physically strong up until the very end and was fortunate enough to have experienced very few, if any, of those annoying symptoms that tend to creep up in the final weeks. If I had wanted to push myself to keep up a more demanding asana practice, I probably could have managed. Yet the progression to a more internal practice happened very organically, with little conscious effort. In addition to meditating more frequently, I spent a lot of time reading the sutras and listening to discussions about yoga. In retrospect, being drawn deeper into yoga practice and the self-study it entails makes perfect sense prior to a major identity-shifting event like having a baby.
My son is now three weeks old, and I have not gone back to practice yet (though mothers will tell you that motherhood is just a different embodiment of the practice, and I am starting to understand what they mean). All of my time and energy is devoted to attending to the needs of this little one, and it is a blessing to be chosen as his
caregiver, to be entrusted with his precious life. As feeding and sleeping schedules are starting to stabilize (slowly), I feel space opening up and a growing desire to return to my former routine… Well, not “return.” That would be impossible. Life is transformed now. Nothing is as it was before. I see the world differently. Even colors and shapes vibrate on new frequencies (though it could be the lack of sleep). I can never return to life as it was before. But the beauty of the practice is that it evolves to meet you where you are. It invites you to see the unchanging nature of the divine Self in a world that is constantly moving and changing. And I have experienced no greater change than becoming a mother.
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