MyLifeYoga

Once we reached our third anniversary, my husband and I decided to start trying to conceive. We wanted to start our family while we were still relatively young. But we had no idea what kind of journey we were about to embark on. Six months off birth control, without using any protection, and still no baby in sight. We were getting frustrated. I had been healthy all my life and every female member of my family was able to get pregnant without even trying. Why was I having so many problems? We decided to head to the fertility doctor to make sure that neither one of us had any serious issues that would prevent pregnancy. Everything checked out just fine and we were back at square one.

I began doing research, tons and tons of reading on any and all topics related to fertility. After a while my eyes seemed to open, a light bulb turned on. I realized that stress was likely the cause of my inability to conceive. All the stress I was putting on myself and my husband to make a baby, in addition to all the normal stresses of my job and life in general, it was just too much for my body to bear. It was a difficult idea to come to terms with, but once I got over myself and threw a little pity party, I was ready to do everything in my power to get rid of this unnecessary stress.

My research on stress reduction techniques lead me to explore yoga more in depth. I had participated in various yoga classes through my gym throughout my young adult life, but was never very serious about it and quit as soon as life became too “busy”. But every article and personal account I read further confirmed in my mind that I needed to start doing yoga regularly. So I began my search for the perfect yoga studio. I contacted numerous instructors in my city and nearby towns, and I was able to narrow down my options. Continue reading →

My mother died of leukemia when I was sixteen years old. In the months leading up to her death, I didn’t visit her in the hospital. I went once but after sitting in my car in the parking lot for thirty minutes, I left without going in. I just couldn’t. I was not capable of dealing with what was happening.

Eventually, I’d be hurried to her bedside regardless: for fear she was not going to make it through the night. I remember the nurse coming into the waiting room quickly and saying, “She’s awake!” Next, I see my mother in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of her nose. My sister breaks down sobbing and rushes to her side. My mother is semi-hysterical, crying and exclaiming, “I am not ready to go!”

At the time, I had never exhibited much poise or depth. I tended to be somewhat hyperactive and scattered. I spent a lot of time daydreaming. Yet, in this most crucial moment, something I cannot explain happened.

In a strange flash of clarity that I have been inquiring to understand ever since, I grabbed my mother by the gown, jarring her present and bringing her eyes to mine, and said, “Mom, I love you very much and I’m going to do great things in my life and make you proud of me. I’m not going to come see you in the hospital again.” She nodded in acknowledgement and gave me a pained smile. I kissed her on the cheek and walked out of the room. That was the last time I saw my mother. Continue reading →