Restorative

I went to the most amazing restorative yoga class Sunday afternoon.  It was a spontaneous decision; Avi hadn't woken from his nap when I dashed out the door and I felt a twinge of regret at not being there to snuggle his warm, sleepy self once he awoke, but I also knew I needed some yoga.  

90 minutes later, I had held a mere 3 poses and felt incredibly relaxed.  As I left the studio, I ran into a friend who was rushing to make the next class and we exchanged a knowing look about the power of restorative yoga.  

When I was pregnant with Avi, I remember (and Leeor does, too), that I was constantly doing restorative poses at home, especially putting my legs up the wall after setting myself up with homemade props.  I would just lie there, feeling the blood rush from my feet, and let any tension melt away.  I think I've done it less than 5 times over the past 29 weeks of this pregnancy.  The other day, when I discovered a new constellation of veins at my knee, I kind of freaked out.  I felt like I needed to replenish my tired, big, third trimester self.  Which is a long explanation for why I felt I so desperately needed to go to yoga.

Here I am just 2 nights later, and again I feel spent.  Trudging up the hill from my bus stop, a bag of a few groceries in my hand, I felt such fatigue.  I also felt grumpy.  My irritation continued as I couldn't reach M; I was trying to figure out if I needed to pick up Avi or if she was bringing him home (she had forgotten her phone).  I was hungry.  I needed to start making dinner.   

I picked up Avi from his share care buddy's house, where he was having a lovely time.  I had no space or interest in niceties.  Avi didn't want to put his rain boots on.  I felt exasperated as I reviewed our options for the short walk outside to my car.  I really didn't mind if he went barefoot, which he usually loves.  Not today.  So I picked him up, my patience thin, at best, and he started his wild protest.  Oh, it felt awful.  I held him close to me and tried to take deep breaths.  "No, don't take deep breaths!" he screamed at me.  I knew there was no reasoning with him.  It was one of those horrible moments where I just needed to get him into his carseat and go.  I hate manhandling him like that.  It feels primitive and wrong but at the same time, there was nothing else to do.  I could blame myself up and down, or I could simply accept that 2 year olds have tantrums, I am the parent, and I need to set limits and contain him.  So I did a bit of both.  And then I felt such criticism and guilt.  I couldn't shake it for a bit.  I wanted, no I needed, someone to tell me I was okay.  That I wasn't a bad parent.  Then I realized how silly that seemed, like I was having this unrealistic expectation for things to always go swimmingly in parenthood.  Like my child was supposed to be "perfect."  

So I allowed myself to feel whatever came up as I drove us home.  Then I pointed out bicycles and a police officer with a dog.  Avi was easily redirected.  Right.  Important to remember not to get all caught up in his upset and remain separate.

When I was in my second year internship in graduate school, which focused primarily on play therapy with elementary school aged children who had gone through some pretty heavy shit, my supervisor was always saying something like, "You have to stop getting into the pool with these kids.  They need you to stay on the side.  Dip your toes in, by all means, feel the temperature of the water, but don't get soaked."  The same feels true for these intense moments with my toddler.  I can sometimes be an open channel, malleable and susceptible to what others around me are going through, spongelike.  I know that this is partly what makes me good at my job, my ability for this kind of empathy.  However, the pool analogy (or metaphor or whatever) is so important for me to remember.  

So I will keep breathing.  Even when Avi demands that I don't.  And I will go to yoga after work tomorrow with my good friend, who is also a mama (of 3! and I think things are rough!), and breathe some more.  Chant some words in Sanskrit that take me out of my thinking self for awhile.  Then I'll come home to my beautiful boy and husband and we'll have a special dinner together to celebrate all the things for which we are so grateful.