On the eve of my 21st birthday I attended my first yoga class. I had just ended a long and hard relationship that had left me a mere 46kg – I was emotionally and physically exhausted.
I sat down, cross-legged on my mat and after the chanting of one “Om” my teacher asked me to breathe in and out of my nose and into my belly. Tears pricked my eyes because for the first time in three years I felt my body breathe. It felt like I hadn't been breathing. It felt like I hadn't been in my body.
Within months of that first class I was studying to become a yoga teacher. My first teacher is now my Mother-in-law and I'm currently pregnant with my second baby yogi.
Indeed, yoga changed my life. And since I grew and birth my little boy three years ago I have witnessed the journey of over 300 pregnant women as they breathe deep and flow through their asana practice. But their sadhana (their practice) is so much more than that.
A baby in the belly encourages so very many women to start yoga. At the beginning of each course I love nothing more than sitting with these women. Some have been attending for most of their pregnancy, others have never been in a yoga studio. Those in their early pregnancy are stunned by the serenity and bountiful bellies of those so close to birthing.
I introduce myself and then encourage them to do the same. Community is important. As is celebration. Honouring just how important pregnancy is.
“You're doing the most important job in the world,” I tell them. “You're growing new life.”
For most women, it's the first time they have heard those words. And then perhaps they realise the enormity of their journey. Some mothers come to class with all the faith in the world. But all of us, in one way or another, have our fears. First time mums fear the unknown, second time mums fear the known.
Some have fallen pregnant easily, perhaps surprisingly. And then you meet those women whose journey towards becoming a mother has been the most difficult time in their lives. It's taken years. Sometimes a decade. Or longer.
And when some women feel comfortable and safe enough to share, they may tell their story of past pregnancy loss. For the first time they can speak about it in an open and nurturing space. And they can grieve and let go and bring themselves into the now.
“Be here, now,” I tell them. “Put your hands on your belly and connect the presence of your unborn baby. Your baby that knows so well the beat of your heart and the rhythm of your breath. Your baby already knows that you are its Mother.”
I encourage them to do what feels good, to be guided by their comfort.
“It's ingrained in us that pregnancy should be the happiest time of our lives. But sometimes it's damn hard too. There's a lot to let go of. You're allowed to cry. You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to be sad.”
And when they realise that actually, 'this is all normal', they relax. And enjoy.
We open our hips, pulse back into pose of a child, stand and swing and sway. Sometimes I encourage them to stay in Warrior 2 for a few minutes and I ask them what they're thinking, how they're breathing.
“Remember you can't choose to come out of a contraction. You just have to be there. Breathing deep, keeping your tongue soft and your mouth open. Letting go.”
“So what were you thinking?”
“How hard it was, how my arms were hurting, how I was hot.”
“Do you think 15 hours of labour will be enjoyable if you're thinking about the pain and the heat and how you don't want to do it anymore?”
And then they get it. That often, labour is more of a mental challenge than a physical one. An intense physical journey that requires the ultimate in surrender. Surrender is the essence of birth.
In between the introductions, the breathing, the asana and the relaxation we laugh and share and hold our bellies and think about the fact that our babies are practicing with us.
And I tell them: “You can't push the river, it flows by itself.”
I spend more time with these women than their midwives or OBs do. I witness the birth of confidence and faith in their breath, their body and their ability to birth. I witness such enormous change.
As a student leaves to birth her babe I give her a hug, tell her once again: “Om shanti sukha Om (joyous and peaceful birth)” and send her on her way to motherhood. For me, it's often bittersweet, the saying goodbye.
Now it's my turn again – to grow and birth a baby. Reflecting on the past years, my students have taught me so much more than a teaching course ever could. It is such a blessing to share the journey of pregnancy with women, to encourage within them a love of their body and their baby.
If you are pregnant I encourage you to find a prenatal yoga class. And to spend an hour or so each week thinking of nothing else but your body, your breath and your baby.
Om Shanti, Om Peace, to all the mothers yet to birth and all the babies yet to be born.
P.S. (From Leigh): Jodi teaches prenatal yoga and “Pregnant and Prepared” workshops for couples at a yoga studio in a beachside suburb on the East Coast of Australia – www.yogaways.com.au. She also authors the beautiful blog, Ché and Fidel, and has been seen here on Marvelous Kiddo on a couple of occasions ;)
Here's a sweet little surprise...Jodi would like to offer a gift to my readers: enter a comment on this post to be entered to win a copy of her prenatal yoga nidra (guided relaxation) CD! The giveaway will close on Jan. 7 at 11:59 pm, EST.
I went to the MoMA with my dad on Friday (my parents are in town visiting for the next week). Standing in front of Jackson Pollock's massive Number 1A, I meditated on the loss, chaos, and suffering in Japan. My heart goes out to everyone there. The event is beyond comprehension -- I can't conceive of words that could possibly fit the scope of the tragedy there. But when I looked at this wild, chaotic, and yet somehow inherently ordered painting I felt a resonance with the scary unpredictability and fierce beauty of the cosmos. I felt conscious of and very grateful for life. 
