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There’s No Crying in Yoga

I went to yoga on Sunday. My usual class, which generally puts me in a great mood. I got to the class and got a surprise, though. One of the regulars is suddenly looking hugely pregnant. She was not pregnant the last time I saw her, and she never mentioned it when I was around– I guess she was keeping the pregnancy quiet until she popped — so it was jarring.

Still hurting and sad, I found myself wanting to leave the class, but after much inner discussion and debate, I decided that I was being silly. I can’t spend the rest of my life running away from pregnant people, I thought. I had to stay, especially after the teacher went out of the way to ask why I looked so pale and gaunt, and I specifically made a big deal about how careful I was going to be. (Yes, I told her since I didn’t want her to be wondering why I might take it a little easy. I am usually a crazy yogini.)

I unfurled my mat one row forward and two rows to the right of the pregnant woman. She was out of my view unless we went upside down. I could do this, I thought. As the class progressed, I couldn’t shake the sadness, though, even as I moved and breathed and felt my muscles releasing. It got so bad that every once and a while I had to fight off tears, but I was always able to push it down and resist the urge to leave. (It helped that I made sure I kept my eyes shut every time I went into downward facing dog so I wouldn’t have to see a pregnant belly staring me in the face.)

Even though it felt wonderful to stretch and breathe, I struggled physically, too. My body isn’t fully recovered, and I felt out of breath and dizzy once in a while. I even had to stop a few times and sit in child’s pose. Once, I almost tumbled out of Warrior 2 because I lost my balance completely. Still, I endured. I didn’t want to interrupt the class, and yoga is usually my favorite antidepressant — one of the things that brings me peace and serenity. I guess that’s why I felt relief when the asanas came to an end and we sat down for shavasana.

Usually, I just feel peace when the class ends. Shavasana is pretty awesome. It’s the relaxing, restorative time where we lie on the floor in corpse pose and just relax. Occasionally, we get “picked” by the teacher for a little extra attention, which means a spritz of lavender oil and a stretch of the shoulders. Not a bad way to end a wonderful hour. On Sunday, I guess the teacher felt like I needed a little extra love so I not only got the lavender and shoulder stretch, I also got a massage of my temples, head, and forehead.

Usually, I love getting picked. Not Sunday, though. As soon as the teacher placed her hands on my forehead, my eyes welled up. I couldn’t stop it from happening. I started sobbing soundlessly. “She feels sorry for me,” I thought, although the reality is *I* felt sorry for me. Thankfully, the teacher soon moved on to the next student, and I was able to lie there trying to control myself. I stopped crying by the time we sat up, and — after chanting a mantra to close our practice (Om bolo shri, sat guru bhagavan ki…) —  was the first one up and out the door, big sunglasses covering my red eyes. (Unfortunately, there aren’t glasses big enough to cover the blotchy mess that I had going on all over my face and nose.)

It’s so strange to me. This is not my first miscarriage. Sure, I was sad when I miscarried between Big Girl and Little Girl, but I moved on quickly. I’m not sure if it’s because I was so busy back then tending to a 20-month-old or because my support system was so huge (we were doing almost daily playdates back then), or if I just knew that I was going to get pregnant again at some time in the future, but I dealt with that loss and put it behind me. This loss is just kicking my ass.

Anyway, I am sure you are as sick of reading about my crying as I am actually doing the crying, so I will try and switch gears back to the healthy and natural stuff asap. I just had to put fingers to keyboard to write this out. Thanks for listening. Come back tomorrow to read about National Costume Swap Day. I promise that post will be interesting, funny, and eco-minded.

One Response to “There’s No Crying in Yoga”

  1. Sandy M says:

    I’m so sorry this has happened to you, again. I did not even know about the other times, but it is so difficult to go through the grieving without others knowing (or understanding unless they too have gone through it). The hormones involved don’t help any either! I’ll be praying for you.

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