Tears and Yoga Mats

Well I finally did it. Last night I went to my first yoga class since I lost Jake. As I settled into my mat that hadn’t been unrolled in seven months, I began to feel a little piece of myself exist again. Lights dimmed, music calmly playing in the background and the breath work began.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe Out. Repeat.


Breathe in. Hold. Breathe Out. Repeat.

As I began to center myself, connecting my breath to my body I realized I hadn’t felt that connected to my own soul in a very long time. The very moment you learn you are pregnant, your life is no longer about you and that never changes. Whether your child is in your arms or in the Lord’s, every moment becomes about your child. Even in the subconscious moments that you do not realize. They are there. That is what makes the bond of motherhood so incredible, so strong, so immeasurable.

It was then time to set my intention for my practice. This is done in the quiet place of your mind and meant to connect your thoughts to your heart. So I fearfully and boldy set my intention and asked Jake and my other babies for permission and forgiveness…to allow me this time for me and only me. I wanted this one hour for myself, for my body, my mind and heart to simply be. The tears came flooding because it made me feel like the worst mother in the world. My babies are dead and here I am asking them for some alone time. The irony in that hit me so hard. But I gave myself permission, like every mother should, to take some time for myself. I cried through several poses. Tears dripping one by one on my yoga mat. It was as if I was spending time with myself, a dear old friend, for the first time in years. I felt torn between a place of a comfortable familiarity and a desperate sense of sadness.


Breathe in. Hold. Breathe Out. Repeat.

As we worked into our first stretch I felt every muscle in my body desperately crying out to me,” keep stretching, keep moving, I’m so tired of aching”. I listened, I tried and when my sweet boy came to mind (which he did so very often), I silently and gently reminded him that Mommy needs this break. I wasn’t sure if I was going absolutely crazy or the complete opposite. I was mothering my child in a way I havn’t experienced yet. I was giving him boundaries, all the way up to heaven. Or was I giving them to myself?

You see, there is a relationship that continues with your child after they die. Most people do not realize this, unless they have lost a child themselves. Jake is still very much a part of my present and that may confuse others. They may think “she hasn’t moved on at all, she’s going a little crazy, in denial, she hasn’t accepted his death.” Wrong. I have accepted. But I also accept his life. His life is eternal.

And there is this place that I can sometimes find when the world is quiet enough where I can feel him, I mean actually feel his presence. It’s so unexplainable. It’s the place between heaven and earth that I am so grateful for. When I am blessed with these moments, I know everything is going to be okay. I know he is there. I know he surrounds me, waits for me and sends his energy to me with the help of the Lord’s hands.

All moms need time to themselves. To quiet their minds. To find themselves. To remember who they are and who they were long before their precious little ones made way into their life. Because that woman, the one who takes time to refocus and rekindle her own spirit, she makes a beautiful and present Mama.

It may have taken seven months, but I did it. I don’t when-or if ever- that I will make it through an entire practice without him on my mind and that’s okay because I want him there. I will keep fighting to find myself, the woman I was before him, the one I am after him and the one I am becoming with him guiding me.

Breathe In. Hold. Breathe Out.


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