Motherhood has turned my yoga practice on its head, in many ways. The most obvious is that I have much less time to focus on myself and my practice. Gone are the days when I could spend a leisurely two hours every morning progressing through the primary and intermediate ashtanga series, followed by an hour-long walk with my dog, and perhaps another yoga class in the evening. I look back fondly on that time of my life, but I can't go back. In many ways, I don't want to. I am giving myself to my new role as mama, and am satisfied with the time I spend on my mat at home now. Less than pre-baby and pre-wrist injury, to be sure, but I'm back at it and feeling great. And, having taken a break and bounced back, I am reassured to know that my physical practice will always be there for me when I need it.
Since the days my daughter was first standing on her own, she has been turning herself upside down in a modified down dog. We can tell her, "go upside down!", and she'll bend at the waist, place her hands and head on the floor, and peer between her feet, flashing her dimples. My daughter has turned my life upside down, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Since the days my daughter was first standing on her own, she has been turning herself upside down in a modified down dog. We can tell her, "go upside down!", and she'll bend at the waist, place her hands and head on the floor, and peer between her feet, flashing her dimples. My daughter has turned my life upside down, but I wouldn't have it any other way.