There was a moment in time when I thought I would become a yoga teacher.
I thought that I would grow my hair out super long and wear beads. I would be present and available and drop into a headstand at a moment's notice.
I would embrace veganisim and sip tea with motivational quotes.
My life, (as most of you already know) took a bit of a hit during that time and I was left broken and wobbly.
I met my yoga teacher on my mat during that traumatic time and silently prayed. Finding breath through the crushing weight was difficult, but somehow I did it.
It was the first time that I experienced God through breath. First time I would sit in meditation and ask for help.
When I was pregnant with Allessandra I did a few poses, but mainly ate and slept.
Over the years with the move and the jobs, babies, running, lifting, etc- my mat remained tightly rolled in the corner, collecting dust.
I would roll it out a few times, drop into downward -facing dog and find fifteen other things to do.
Just doing the motions of yoga was not enough. It was like sitting in church with hate in your heart.
Recently during recovery I came back to my practice with an open heart, with the intention of actually feeling something, and connecting.
I am not going to lie and say it was easy. It's not.
Also, extremely humbling, because there are things I could do before, that I no longer can do.
They effortlessly moved their little bodies along with me, copying my movements. We started practicing together. I showed them a few poses, and it wasn't long before they were doing handstands against the wall, and doing back-bends.
To them its a game, to me its another way of connecting with their little spirits.
Especially Allessandra, who laces her fingers through mine and flashes me the biggest smile. Looking at these pictures I can't help but remember, it was on my yoga mat that I silently prayed to God for a baby.
Six years later ...I would say that prayer was answered.