readying

As I sit down to write this, the windows are open on a low and gray spring day, and I am enjoying a cooling cup of coffee, my first in 48 hours. I was hit with a stomach bug late on Sunday, and spent much of yesterday recuperating. So glad to report that I'm feeling all better now, but boy, that was a doozy.

Today there are many things in the house that are asking for my attention: laundry needs tending to, toddler muffins and granola need to be made, black beans are soaking on the stove in preparation for tonight's dinner. The kitchen floor needs sweeping. I'm already planning on Annie's mac n'cheese, with added broccoli, garlic and basil from my budding herb garden for lunch. It feels good to want to eat solid foods again, after a full day of a steady applesauce-and-coconut-water diet.

But I know that I don't have the necessary energy to check all of these items off the list. I am incredibly lucky that I've been able to put Silas in daycare four days a week, as compared to our usual two, from now until the end of the schoolyear. At first I thought, Great! I can get so many things done! I can work on an e-course! An e-book! (Oh, I have dreams and plans...) But after one week of enjoying this new-found time and freedom, I've had to get real and clear my agenda of almost all but one item: to rest. The truth of the matter is that I am a mere handful of weeks away from my due date, and the mother of a busy toddler, and I am tired. It's a good kind of tired--I am feeling healthy and strong, though I am moving very, very slowly, and aware that more and more duties and tasks are falling outside of the realm of things I should do or care about.

I am still in solid nesting mode, though. This weekend we made great strides on the ready-for-baby front. The bucket car seat was unearthed, checked, and cleaned. We brought home a loaner co-sleeper from a friend's house and I set it up next to our bed, and stashed a variety of baby items in it. (Of course, it has since become a cat-magnet. Don't worry, all of that stuff has yet to be washed, for this very reason.) I remember doing the same thing before Silas was born. The proximity of all these tiny baby things helps me get my head in the game. On the list for this week: packing birth bags and ordering our birth kit. Yep--it's that time.

These days feel spacious and good. I spend a lot of time in the evenings, when the little one in my belly is very active, just staring down at the enormous moon sitting in my lap, and watching this strong swimmer of a boy leaping and kicking under my bulging skin.  It feels so strange, so alien, yet so very familiar and close at the same time. One of the great gifts of this pregnancy has been to enjoy things as they are in the moment, with much less anxiety about the future as when I was expecting Silas. In so many ways, this time, I know what's coming. With Silas, I felt somewhat lost due to the fact that I wasn't feeling this strong connection to my child. I'd expected I would know more of who he was while he was still nestled within my body. This time, I know that this is enough: knowing the hard curve of this child's bottom under my ribs to the left, the sharp outline of his heel to the right. This togetherness, this sharing of each breath, in and out. Trusting that all will be revealed in time. Knowing that, once more, I will be blown away by love and recognition. Maybe not while still pregnant, maybe not on his birth day or even a while later (as it was with Silas), but soon. And when it happens, it will be complete and beautiful and perfect. Just as it should be.

what I already know

When I was pregnant with Silas, I taught up to six yoga classes a week, and had to drive nearly two hours round-trip to the studio where I taught most of these. I even taught a class the very morning my water broke! It was exhausting, both physically and emotionally. I also managed to attend only two or three Prenatal classes the entire time. I was determined, with this second pregnancy, to not put myself in a position when I had to give so much of my care and energy to others, and to make sure I got to receive the nourishment I need.

My teaching load this time around has been much, much lighter, and I taught my last class a couple of weeks ago, at 32 weeks. And while I have only made it to one Prenatal class in a studio, through the magic of the Internet, I have been able to have wonderful teachers hold space for me, keep my practice fresh and inspired, and provide me with that wisdom and nourishment that is so beneficial for me at this time.

I've been making my way back to the mat in a more committed way over the last few weeks. This pregnancy has been tricky for movement due to aggravated issues with my low back, hips and pelvis (not to mention an adorable but energy-sapping toddler to look after!) But about a month ago I got fitted for a maternity support belt that has literally changed my life. I'm still tight and achy but overall feel about 75% better. So I have been making yoga my top priority again, after months of shying away from the mat because my pelvis felt too unstable, and I am loving it.

Late last week I moved through a practice led by Stephanie Snyder on Yoga Glo, and was deeply struck by her simple but profound words. She offered, during the opening mediation, the following blessing:

Remember that you have everything that you need. You can do this. There is nothing to fear. You will be your strongest, most beautiful, most powerful, and your most graceful self when you give birth.

Her words resonated with me not because they carried a brand-new insight, but because they reminded me afresh of what I already know: that I hold within me all the resources necessary to grow, birth, and mother this baby with beauty, strength and grace. It calls to mind the affirmation with which I close my Prenatal yoga classes, and which I use myself to end my time on the mat:

I hold within me the strength and wisdom to birth in harmony with nature in the best possible way for me and my baby.

This is one of the reasons for which time on the mat is so crucial for me these days. By spending time moving and breathing mindfully, in fully inhabiting my body for those brief, dedicated moments, I remind myself of the strength, beauty and openness that I already possess. Slipping into Warrior 2 or Pigeon pose is not unlike opening the door to one's house and stepping inside: there is a recognition, a sense of belonging, in coming home.

I already have everything that I need. Just as I am, I am enough.

It is easy to forget, in the midst of the myriad small failures that make up an ordinary day as a mother, the truth about our best, shiniest selves. It is tempting to think that there are improvements to be made, ways to be better at what we do, at who we are.

But we are never not that shiny self. Sometimes the truth of who we are is obscured, the way the sun is sometimes covered with clouds, but a short flight up above the cloud line reminds us that the sun is always shining, even when it's dark and dreary below. In the same way, we need reminders--like time on the mat, or good books, or great friends--to remind us of what we know to be true.

There is no becoming, no there to get to. There is only remembering what already is.


::  The lovely flowers illustrating today's post were given to me at my blessingway this past weekend, by my doula and friend, who always reminds me of what I already know. ::

a mother's prayer

May I yield to the process of becoming.

May I ask for the touch I crave without knowing it.

May I hold my fears lightly like a leaf or feather in an open hand, ready to let go.

May I come back over and over to myself, my baby, my breath.

May I choose trust and wonder.

May I believe that I am enough, that I already have everything I need.

May I rest in love and its power to expand.

May I birth in strength, grace, wisdom and beauty.

May I step out of the way and let life come through.

May I trust in my arms' capacity to hold more than I think they can.

May I remember what I know, which is everything.

May I accept help, and say thank you.

May I breathe in and open, breathe out and relax.

May I sit in the midst of it all and bless the chaos with my full attention and acceptance.

May I give myself the gift of starting over, starting again, starting afresh.

May I forgive immediately and forget forever.

May I cry and laugh in equal measure with sincerity and abandon.

May I greet each day anew and accept its fresh opportunities and promises.

May I welcome each night and its invitation to lay things down to rest.

May I feed and be fed.

May I count nothing but the blessings and the breaths.

May I drop the heavy weight of expectation.

May I allow each moment to be exactly as it is.

May I embody fierce and radiant calm.

May I be vibrant, present, engaged.

May I do it all, over and over, again and again, leaning into the sanctity of repetition.

May I honor each child, each day, each hour, each breath by showing up fully.

May I let go of all that isn't serving me.

May I receive the resources available in each moment for each moment with gratitude.

May I be true to myself always.

May I mother wholeheartedly and with every ounce and fibre of my being.

:: :: ::

PS: Prayer for a mother becoming.

preparing for baby: finding your mama tribe

Liz, me, Laura, Kathleen, Kathryn, last year on Mother's Day. Aren't they all so gorgeous?

These days, late-night conversations tucked in bed with my husband are likely to start like this:

Me: "Tell me it's gonna be okay when we have this baby."

Husband: "Honey, it's gonna be okay."


What's great is he truly, genuinely means it. One of the most amazing things about my husband is his unwavering faith (despite, I would say, plenty of evidence to the contrary) in my abilities as a mother. He is grounded and solid and his confidence in me gives me such strength and comfort.

Last night, he went on to list a few things that would be different this time around from when Silas was a newborn, and topping that list is you didn't have your mama tribe when Silas was born.

Almost a year ago: Meghan, Aiden, Lucy, Silas, Jonah (omg those thighs!)

He's right. I've been fortunate to have great mama friends right from the beginning of my first pregnancy, whose advice and company I truly would not have made it through without. (One of which gave me one of the best pieces of advice I've ever received: find a mom with a child a few months older than yours and do what she does.)  But my closest mama tribe didn't coalesce until Silas was about 7 months old, after he started attending a local Mother's Day Out program.

Silas, Lucy, Meghan, Jonah (Aiden missing from photo) recently at our favorite coffeeshop hangout.

I had met most of them before. Kathryn and Laura had been Prenatal students of mine around the same time the previous year, while I was in the early months of pregnancy myself. Kathleen was one of my first students once I returned to teaching after Silas' birth, joining us for just a few weeks right at the end of her pregnancy. I met Liz when MDO started. We were all first-time moms, our babes all born within a year of each other. Two of us are grad students and professors; one of us works from home; two of us are full-time moms. Each afternoon we would scoop up our babes just before 3pm and convene to nurse them on the oversize couches in the church's foyer. Not many things will cause women to bond faster than breastfeeding together.

Soon we were meeting for coffees after school, on Friday mornings when there was no MDO. There were some brief, glorious months before the kids were all mobile when we would bring our fellas along and all gather for happy hour on Friday afternoons. We talked about everything. We listened to complaints about nursing and eating and sleeping. We offered support through earaches and toothaches and late-night fevers. Always offering an ear to hear, a shoulder to lean on, an extra pair of arms to hold each other's babies when one of us just had enough. Our kiddos are growing up together, with a tribe of aunties watching over them. We share coffee and beers and donuts and tacos and tears and laughter. And a not-entirely-healthy obsession with purses.

On the last day of MDO last spring.

This last Saturday, my girls took me out for a lovely lunch in lieu of a baby shower. We left our kiddos at home, we shared great conversation, great food, a bottle of wine. (Well, they had wine. Lucky.) Kathryn offered a toast: to finding your mama tribe. Oh yes, yes.

Mamas, I tell you, we need each other. We need each other to reflect each other's beauty, strength and grace. We need each other to witness our efforts and progress and the fact that we are all doing an amazing job even when we don't feel like we are. I love my husband, and would be lost without his faith in my mothering skills, but no one knows like another mama knows. We need each other's support, counsel, company and honresty. We need each other to remind ourselves that we are not alone, even when we feel alone, and that we are not crazy, especially when we feel crazy.

Partial tribe: me, Kathleen, Kathryn, this past Saturday.

I don't know what I would do without these women in my life. Their presence is vital to my sanity. And I know that having them around is going to make life with this new baby a whole lot better. Since I am the first one to have a second child, and several of them aren't going to try for more, what I have are four aunties who are very eager to dote on this little one! And don't you know it, they gifted me with my coveted diaper bag, making me feel even more together, ready and excited for this baby to come. (Oh man, this thing is amazing.)

I am lucky that in my work as a Prenatal yoga teacher, I am encountering new moms all the time. I was lucky that circumstances brought the five of us together around MDO. I am pleased beyond measure that a (closed) Facebook group that I started for local mamas, first with mostly just my own students, has bloomed and blossomed over two years to have over 500 members, among which many, many mamas have found their tribe.

Maybe you are lucky, and have established mama friends already who will hold your hand along the way. But maybe you're the first one of your circle to have a baby, or you've recently moved to a new area. Yes, your childless and faraway friends will be of immense value to you in this time of transition. And your husband may be a wonderfully supportive and involved daddy. But still, allow me to strongly recommend you seek out mama friends in your community. There is simply no substitute for a mama tribe you can go out to the coffeeshop or park with.  Facebook is a good place to start, to see if there are groups in your community. Your local La Leche League chapter is another excellent way to meet mamas. (And you don't have to wait until your baby is born! In fact, I encourage you to go and bring your questions while you are still pregnant.) And may I recommend you seek out a Prenatal Yoga class in your community? Also, please check out this great post on Happiest Mom about making mom friends. You might have to put yourself out there, to make an effort, to be vulnerable, which, I grant you, is difficult when so much in life with a newborn is new and raw. But your efforts will be rewarded hundredfold once you find those women to support and love you, to let you know that, though you may feel otherwise some days, you are strong and beautiful and a good mama to your children.

May I propose a toast? To all of you beautiful, strong, competent mamas out there. But, most especially, to my very own mama tribe. I love you and I would be lost without you.

preparing for baby: self-care

:: As I am readying my heart and my home to welcome our second son, I thought I would write a series of posts reflecting my preparations, in the hope that it can be of benefit to other new or soon-to-be mamas out there. This is the first post in the series Preparing for Baby. Watch for more posts about baby gear, creating space, and important lessons in the coming weeks. ::

In my dreams, this is where I shower.

A great many of the things I had been told and didn’t want to believe about becoming a mother have turned out to be true, but not this one: that I would never have time to take a shower. The only time I have wanted to take a shower and been unable to was the day my son was born, when I was still hooked up to monitors and drips and catheters. (I will always remember that first shower at the hospital, how blissful it felt… until I made the gruesome discovery of my elephantine, swollen ankles and feet.) In fact, in Silas’ early weeks, more often than not I would take two showers a day.

Showers are wonderfully restorative to me. Not because I have an especially dreamy shower, because I don’t. Trust me. But standing in the hot pounding water, lights off (I usually shower at night, in the dark), with the soothing scents of lavender, rose, citrus and mint from the various products I use, is both calming and reviving to my senses and nervous system. In fact, I am composing this post after such a shower, and I feel amazing. I was bound and determined that a small bundle of baby wouldn’t come between me and my showers. He never did, and I am glad I made the practice of showering a priority.

My midwife recently paid me the greatest compliment. We were talking about my prenatal yoga classes, and she told me how I was doing a great job of modeling self-care to my students. She said that, of all her clients, I was one of the few who really put a lot of effort in figuring out what I needed, and getting after it.

My own mother didn’t have the luxury of learning self-care until she was well into middle-age, and watching her struggle to do so really struck a deep chord in me. I’ll always remember something she said to me years ago, when she came for a visit after I moved away from home and across the country. She told me how struck she’d been by the safety announcements before her flight took off: being told to put on your own oxygen mask before helping someone else. This is a concept that would’ve been foreign to her youthful self—indeed, it sounds counterintuitive to a lot of us, especially mothers. Our impulse would be to put on our child’s mask before our own. But here’s the thing: if you can’t breathe you aren’t going to be able to do shit for anyone else.

This is the deep, important lesson: in order to take care of others, you need to first take care of yourself. You can’t quench anyone’s thirst out of an empty well. But don’t wait until you run dry. Make it a priority to refill the well on a daily basis. Almost everything, when it comes to caring for your baby and your home, with the exception of nursing, can be done by someone else. Oh sure, as mamas we feel that no one can do it quite as well as we can, but babies can be held and soothed, dishes can be washed, laundry can be folded by husbands, family members, well-meaning friends. Let them help. Because no one can refill your well for you. No one can take a shower, take a nap, take a breath on your behalf. True, you may need to ask for extra help in order for these things to happen. I had to when I had a tiny infant and took two showers a day. But ask I did because I was determined to make self-care a priority.

I will concede that there are circumstances, such as times of illness, when self-care must go by the wayside for a period of time. But I believe that, in the ordinary reality of day-to-day living, moms who have gone days without a shower have chosen the maintenance of those around them over their own.* At the outset, maybe that choice makes sense. The baby needs clean diapers. You need clean plates off of which to eat. Your baby will be crawling soon and god forbid it be on such a messy floor. These things are all true. Here’s another, perhaps deeper truth: nothing is as important to the health and well-being of your family and home as having a sane, relatively happy mother. You’ve heard the saying: if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. And if mama ain’t had a shower in days, is frazzled and disheveled and hasn’t had a moment to herself, ain’t nobody gonna care about the clean dishes and floors.

For me, it’s showers, and hot coffee, and writing in my journal, and sitting meditation practice. For you it might be something else altogether. I encourage you to think deeply about what feeds and nourishes you, about what replenishes your strength and energy, and commit to honoring these small commitments to yourself each and every day, to the best of your ability. Discuss these small gestures with the people close to you, and invite them to help you keep these commitments to yourself. Tell them that you are doing this for your own health and well-being, yes, but also with them in mind. Explain how your whole family will benefit from having a calmer, more balanced mother. Post this quote somewhere prominent, where you can see it every day:

“Self-care isn’t an act of selfishness, it’s an act of self-preservation.” -Audre Lorde

Learn what it is that you need, then get after it. You, your child, your family, your home, your world will all be the better for it. I'd love to hear about your self-care practice, won't you share in the comments?

:: :; ::

A few more thoughts...

I wrote about it before.  Also, I am gathering self-care resources on this Pinterest board.

* I will also concede that your own experience may be vastly different. If you have not been able to make self-care a priority, and you feel there is a genuine reason for that, I would love to hear from you, either in a comment or private email. I am deeply fascinated by this subject and would love to have a conversation with you about it.