It had been a difficult pregnancy.

Days earlier I was told that they would induce on Saturday.

The next week the episode of Grey’s Anatomy would air where someone with my very condition would die in child birth, USA Today had put a “heads up” type warning in the description. I remember looking at my husband. Gratitude that I had already given birth. That our first child was healthy. That I was recovering.

I remember that Saturday morning.

We were living in the Crum Elbow apartments located in Hyde Park, NY.

Joshua was already named.

He would be the first grandchild on both sides. Grandparents and Great grandparents were all scheduled to descend into the birth center. It is hard to stay with the details of this story that I want to share. There are so many stories in regards to this birth. There are so many stories in regards to the pregnancy. There are just a lot of stories.  I wonder about you. Some of you will really understand.

It was scheduled.

Not all of my births would be so “convenient” to plan around.  Some would take 72 hours, some would be distressed, some would be fast. I guess when you have six kids, there are a lot of stories.

The day was January 28, 1995. It was a Saturday. The pregnancy had been incredibly difficult. Physically I lost more weight then I gained. My husband had come home one day from work to find me laying on the floor, passed out in a pool of vomit. My body had changed. My breasts had gone from an A cup to a double D. I had learned all new levels of tired. I had learned that my body wasn’t my own. Or so I thought.

What I remember most about the early hours of that day were the moments my hand went onto the handle of the apartment’s door. Car seat in one hand, other hand reaching for the door handle. It was the last time in my life I would walk through the threshold of a doorway not being a mom.  That moment has been deeply embedded upon my person.  I remember pausing in the small hallway. I remember looking at the door. I remember having no clue as to what was about to happen, that day or in the years yet to come.

A birth was about to be had as was death to seasons of my life; a shift, new life was about to emerge. I would be forever changed. Life would continue in a renewed form.  Opening that door would be the last time I left the apartment not as a mother. Opening that door would be the first of many to open.

 

Birth.

 

Life.

 

Death.

 

Resurrection.

 

There are so  many stories that cross the terrains of the years between 1991 and 2012. So many stories that continue.  I hold stories. My body and I upon a journey. I would carry twelve pregnancies within my physical being, six of them would come to full term and live a life upon the earth.  There is story after story there.

In my journey through yoga and now training as a yoga therapist, these stories are emerging upon new lights.  I am allowing myself to journey with awareness in ways that perhaps before now wouldn’t have been beneficial.  It is interesting to me, the timing of story. The allowance of permission. The intelligence of the body.

Within the feminine heart there is a creative and nurturing reality. Whether male or female, the feminine energies course through the body with a longing. Whether with children or without, whether biological or adopted; whatever your story is in regards to your body and the journey of creation of life it is worth being heard.

My body, My life. My body, My practice.

BODY KNOW THYSELF is a Living Mangaliso course that goes into all of these realities and more.  To take a personal retreat with the material or schedule a weekend experience for a group, contact Elle@LivingMangaliso.Com

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