Why I still hit the #yoga mats (HARD) at 38 weeks pregnant
Now that my second child is 6 weeks old, I feel confident in what I am about to write. I know it’s not a fluke; it’s the truth. My power yoga practice has shaped my every day life. And yes, yoga has made me a better mother (well, person, really, but that is another blog promised to be told at another time).
I decided to parent a little later in life, having both children at an advanced maternal age (or so my OB tells me). My two girls are 15 months apart. To say the least, my body was/is a glutton for punishment, especially since both girls were delivered via cesarean. I was warned that the recovery time was brutal and that it would take a while to bounce back. Having the surgeries so close together, I heard horror stories of the pain and recovery time for the second go round.
With my first pregnancy, I hit the mats, but with a lot of modifications– not necessarily because of recommendations, but simply because I wasn’t sure what my body could handle and I was so scared of doing something wrong that could hurt me or the baby. Even then, I ate whatever I wanted, which mostly consisted of cake with strawberry filling (very yogi-like, indeed), yet I honored my practice. I followed through with an almost daily practice, and my weight gain stayed within the recommended range. But most impressive to me was my energy level, and that was pretty darn amazing. While my fellow girlfriends who were pregnant ( I swear there was a boom in my group) moaned about backaches and exhaustion, I found myself with the desire to push into arm balances and other advanced asanas. And sometimes, I did, but my nerves held me back.
When it came time to meet my little girl, I was up and moving way before the medical staff expected. And, that’s pretty much been the case since. After the initial two week postpartum period, I hit the mats. There were core-intensive poses that I just couldn’t do after 40 weeks of hibernation. My abdominal strength just wasn’t there, and you could see it in the paunch that rested freely in my middle. But hey, I’m not whining, especially after those very muscles had just been stretched like an old cotton T-shirt (my OB’s analogy, not mine). Nevertheless, I kept at it, and by six weeks, I was trucking along in my practice, and hitting the mats as hard as I could. The energy that our power vinyasa practice provided was awesome, which in and of itself was empowering as I faced an opinionated infant at home. I might mention that yoga helped keep me out of the wine aisle, too, right about now.
Fast forward five months, and I find myself pregnant again… Just when I was really hitting my stride and those clothes were fitting the way they were supposed to. Only this time, the nausea was intense. Yet, I found that a kick-ass yoga class was like Dramamine to a sad sailor. So, I had a heart to heart with my OB about what I really could and could not do. She responded practically, “listen to your body.” Where had I heard that before? Oh yeah, that’s right– we recite those words on an almost daily basis during our practice in that sanctuary we call a studio.
And so I did. During my first pregnancy, I had modified so many poses, despite the fact that I had been in the best shape of my life for the last three years. I researched all of the contraindications and made note of what modifications I really had to do. Understanding that as long as I wasn’t adding a level of intensity that wasn’t there before my pregnancy, then I really could listen to what my body told me. And it pretty much did. As my second daughter grew and my physical proportions changed, my pregnancy pretty much dictated what modifications happened and didn’t happen. In short, I hit the mats as hard as my body would allow; I held on to my plank and chair asanas throughout the entire pregnancy as if they were gold; I listened when my body began to protest at deep twists and inversions. Like my first pregnancy, the end result was similar– optimal weight gain, increased energy, and fewer aches and pains despite participating in the transformation of my newborn into a toddler.
When it came time to meet my youngest child, the recovery was pretty much the same. Except this time, I had the added challenge of juggling a 25 pound toddler and an almost 8 pound newborn. Again, I was up and about, moving around with more energy than expected. I am thankful for this energy. Even though, I wasn’t supposed to lift more than ten pounds, I found myself in the position of doing it anyway. That’s not to say that I advocate ignoring medical advice; I’m simply honest with the fact that I could not tell my 14 month old daughter that I couldn’t pick her up after not seeing her due to the mandatory three night stay in the hospital. Thankfully, I had the core, leg and arm strength to lift her with minimal strain on my body. I have yoga to thank for that. During those two weeks, I had the strength in my legs to pace the floors at night with a restless newborn and the energy next day to care for and play with both girls, even after a night of on-again, off-again sleep. I have yoga to thank for all of that.
Yet, during that initial postpartum period, I still struggled emotionally. If both girls were crying, I couldn’t stop the tears that were also rolling down my cheeks. I was so happy when my physician cleared me for minimal physical activity. So, after two weeks, I returned to teach my first class. And almost instantly, the stress rolled off and that endorphin filled burst of well-being returned as I pushed through each vinyasa. Savasana was never sweeter. Of course, it could simply be the five minutes of intentional silence, but I like to believe its the beauty of yoga that acted as that much needed mood stabilizer.
Now, six weeks out, I’m hitting the mats as hard as ever. I can feel the definition returning in my core although you can’t quite see it yet. My husband (and I’m sure my daughters, too) notice the difference on an emotional level. I know in my heart that it’s that mind-body connection that comes from a kick ass yoga class and the feeling of accomplishment that comes from rocking an arm balance. “Welcome back, Eight Angle Pose; hello, flying pigeon.” Two days ago, I popped up into headstand. Man, I love inversions. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy yoga the way I do if I hadn’t honored my practice and listened to my body during these
last two years. I wouldn’t be able to feel as good in my skin, in my new role as a mother of two, as I do if I didn’t have the energy and strength that our practice gives.
Damn, it’s good to be a yogi.
