This year I decided to finally get back into yoga and so I dove head first into six months of in depth training with Yoga Temple. One of my assignments was to answer the question, What is Yoga to Me? Here is my answer:
The easiest way I can explain what yoga is to me is to talk about motherhood which is actually kind of ironic considering my first yoga class was after recovering from my third miscarriage. I wanted a baby so badly. It was all I thought about, dreamt about and prayed for for two years straight. After my third miscarriage, I was exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I needed a break. Never in my life had I felt so betrayed by my body. I needed to reconnect with her, with me. And so, after countless hours of scrolling mindlessly through Facebook, a yoga add popped up and I decided to attend my first class. I was hooked. I started practicing daily, going to workshops, learning about chakras, energy healing, and praynama and reading all I could on the subject. I was able to reconnect with my body, my mind, my spirit and before I knew it I was pregnant again with what would be my first successful pregnancy.
Thrilled, elated, extremely joyous. Those adjectives don’t even begin to describe how I felt carrying my baby full term. I read all the books, bought all the unnecessary “necessities”, had all the parties and made all the plans. I was going to have a natural birth without any drugs. It was going to be a raw, natural, incredibly spiritual experience. There was no other way for it to happen after all, I was a yogi now. I was on cloud 9 and nothing could bring me down. That is until I was induced two weeks early because they could not find a regular heart beat.
I had no bag packed, and no plans on having my baby before her due date. Thirty six hours of labour and multiple doses of whatever drugs I begged for, I ended up having an emergency C-section. I woke up to my baby on her Dad’s chest and immediately started crying. I was supposed to hold my baby first. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Every single thing I envisioned about my birth did not happen and to make matters worse my milk didn’t come in in time so I had to substitute my breast milk with formula which was a big no-no, especially for a yogi mom.
For months after, I struggled with postpartum depression and anxiety. All I ever wanted was to be a mom. I spent years of praying, hoping, wishing and trying for a baby and now here she was, snuggled in my arms, the most precious beautiful baby I had ever seen and all I could do was cry. I was exhausted, frustrated, and angry. I felt so humiliated by my feelings, I hated myself. During that time I stopped practicing yoga. I was mad at the world and thought nothing would help so what would be the point in trying. It took me a while before I stepped on my mat again. Three years and another baby to be exact. But, when I did, it was like the universe whispered, “welcome home” which in reality what I probably heard was the instructor saying OHM. Either way, it felt good. A little intimidating but good. Just like being a new Mom.
Now, I am able to look back and laugh at myself for being so stuck in thinking things had to be a certain way. For imagining that pregnancy, birth, and motherhood went exactly as planned and that it would only be beautiful and extraordinary. Kind of like the time I attended my first yoga class. My make-up was on point, my hair done nicely in a cute little bun. I wore my sexiest sports bra and best pair of Lu Lu Lemons too. My intentions were to have a good workout, break a little sweat and look hot as hell while doing it.
Instead, after all my make-up melted down my face and my hair slicked back with sweat, I laid down for savasana and bawled my eyes out like a baby for the entire 10 minutes.
Both Motherhood and Yoga have brought me to my knees. With both Yoga and Motherhood I have experienced tears, fears, expectations, failure, disappointment, accomplishment, confidence, love, light, and laughter. Both continually teach me that surrendering isn’t a weakness but a strength. When I lay my head on my mat in child’s pose I feel a connection to a higher power. When I hold my daughters hands as they fall asleep, I am again, connected to that higher power. I use breath work while disciplining my now toddlers and practice ahimsa with myself by taking time to do things I love (like yoga) and not feel guilty about it. When I am on the mat, it is my kids I am breathing for. It is my kids that inspire my intention, my mantra, my prayers while practicing. It is them who cross my mind and fill my heart with love in my practice.
Yoga has taught me to be patient with myself, to love and accept myself the best I can, and to let that love expand and shine through everything I do. It has taught me that expectations are the murderers of joy and it has taught me that when all else fails, I still have by breath. I can always count on my breath to bring me back. Motherhood has taught me those things as well.
So, what is yoga to me? To me, yoga is motherhood.
Namaste ❤
xo,
Alyssa
Bee and Kai 