I attended a Yoga for Moms class the other night. I invited my mother to go with me. After a long time I got to leave home sans bebe for two full hours and frankly, it was a blessing by itself. I missed my babies dearly by the time I was driving back home while I left anxiously yet happily the second my car was off the driveway.
I hadn't practiced yoga for a good 9 weeks. The last time I went to a prenatal yoga class I was so big I couldn't see my toes and my chest didn't have much room to breathe. It was good to be allowed to do some moves laying on my belly after a long while.
It was particularly great that everyone there were moms: tired, worried, grateful, overwhelmed, open, and needing the company of others, and needing to focus on their body for an hour or so.
It was a blessing to have Grace as our instructor. It was the first time I met her but I could tell she was a genuinely graceful person from the way she welcomed me and my mother to her class. She was considerate and focused. It was indeed a nice yoga practice through her guidance.
Then something unexpected happened: during the savasana, the end meditation session, she asked all to put one hand on their heart and one on their belly and feel the breath laying down on their back. So far the routin. Then after a few moments she asked the moms who recently had given birth to put both hands on their belly and give thanks to the empty space housing our babies for 9 months. She brought our attention to this void, noted how we carried our babies in this space the same way our mothers carried us and how their mothers carried them. How this lineage went back in time.
Feeling the empty bump, I found tears coming down my cheeks; I felt like really crying. I was oblivious to this seemingly obvious fact let alone being thankful for it.
Now, I am thankful to this emptied bump!