His beingness

On Monday I saw my baby boy's face...nose, belly, that sweet little space between the nose and the upper lip, his chin. I almost saw the young adult in him, how he will look when he's almost out in the world on his own, years from now. It's strange how the ultrasound offers a glimpse of the child, but illuminates the outline of the face and body only (it was not 3D), leaving me to imagine the delicate newborn-ness filling in the spaces of who he will be just moments after he arrives.

But in practice, what do I imagine? I have been practicing with him in the belly since before his heart even began to beat. Who do I see in my mind when I am slowly folding us forward, slowly bending backward and gently feeling for his body as I do, breathing in and out from asana to asana? I imagine, have always imagined not a face, but rather a beingness: his pure existence there in the womb. I make space for him in my hip joints, and I release the muscles of the low belly and low back and tushie so that he can be surrounded by softness. But his presence is vast and takes up my whole body, so I make space for him in my shoulders (especially lately), and in my upper back, hands, legs, face, and chest. Everywhere in the body that I can soften and open, that is a space for him to breathe into, and for me to breathe into him.

There is pressure from the world outside of this body to practice in particular ways. It has in the past pressed in on my mindspace and I have felt fearful or guilty or confused...worst of all, I have felt disconnected from him. That is worst.of.all.

But today in practice, as I moved slowly through standing, seated, into 2nd, into back bending, into finishing as in deep, deep water, I was melted with him. And though I can imagine what he will look like when he's 17 years old, even gently imagine his newborn face, what I see in the heart is who he is. And I see it because I have felt him radiating everywhere.

Back of the Heart

The body is beginning to ask to slow down as the baby grows. Right on time—as I near the end of the last week of the 2nd trimester and begin what will be several weeks of my son growing and the body preparing to birth him.

This morning, I felt a keener sense of caution and mindfulness as I moved gently and slowly through my practice. Surya Namaskara wants to be liquid and soft, gently opening with each vinyasa. Forward folds must be more open and gradual, and the mind must settle itself on the breath. Backbends continue to be a beautiful expression of the heart opening, the back strengthening as it supports the belly, the legs growing stronger. These days, my beloved teacher, Greg Nardi, has been helping me to find space in the upper back by opening the shoulders; David Keil's recent article has also been an eye-opener. I now do Kapotasana B first, then A, and then B again. I am still taking my heels, which feels okay, and the opening of the shoulders (a mindfulness that I have now begun to take into myriad other poses, including Chaturanga, Utkatasana, forward folds, deep yogi squat...). has been revolutionary in my backbending practice. While it may seem strange to introduce this kind of challenge deep into my pregnancy, it also feels like it's the perfect time: my body longs, aches to find space in the back of the heart (for many of us, this is a hard-to-reach area). And I felt today in practice a deep need to send breath there and to mindfully attend acutely to that breath.

Pregnancy itself can create a busy mind: worries, fears, daydreaming, forgetfulness. Mothering the unborn and mothering an almost-three-year-old is a sweet, occasionally spicy task; this child in the belly kicks relentlessly, showing me his strength and life and spirit, while the three-year-old tests her boundaries, inspires me to laugh until my big belly hurts, demands discipline, and amazes me with her words (her words!). Indeed, the mind is full; and yet, though it means drawing away from family for a short time, practice helps me to find a clarity of mind that helps me to be in this mothering, rather than completely understand it.

What I do know, what I sense instinctively, is that this need to open space in the heart chakra is directly related to the often overwhelming emotions and sensations that mothering brings to this body and mind. It can all get stuck and swirling, and even confusing and sad and maddening as we try to make sense of its complexities, its unpredictabilities, its speed in this temporary existence. How do we slow it down so that we can sense every tiny corner of it? Sending breath to the back of the heart creates a great vulnerability, a radiating softness, and also a kind of union between babies and mother and partner that comes from somewhere universal. It is a retreat from analysis and into the purity of deep, deep love. On the far-away walls of the back of the heart are written all of the equations that make this love make sense, but the irony is that when we get there with the opening of the body and with the breath, we do not need that math at all.