This week I had the honor of attending another birth.  This is the second birth I have attended since the birth of Phoenix, and the 132^nd birth I have attended total.  I have always stood in awe of birth, and of women and their power to give birth.  In the past, when a woman would hit that wall, the “I can’t do this!  This is crazy” kind of wall, I would speak to her with all the passion, dedication, sweetness, and encouragement I could muster.  I would tell her that this was the moment, the eye of the needle, and that although it felt impossible, she could do it.  She would do it, and she would meet her baby.  I would speak firmly and calmly telling her that although every part of her felt like it would break open, that indeed she would be made stronger by her birth, and by facing this moment of impossibility.   That was before I had felt it myself.

This time, as I looked into this woman’s eyes, as she entered “transition” as the childbirth classes call it, everything was different.  Here she was, in the middle of the strongest surges of her labor, clutching her husband’s hand, seeking a comfortable position (which is impossible to find at that time, by the way) and looking to me, “the expert”, for words of wisdom.   “This is horrible,” she said to me, matter of factly.   My voice went silent.  Instead of speaking to her with phrases like “You are a goddess” and “you can do this,” or “every contraction brings you closer to your baby,”  all I could find in my heart to say,  was… quietly “I know.”  This was a phrase I always avoided as a doula before I was a mom, myself.  I would say many other things, but I reserved that one, because truthfully I didn’t know.  Perhaps I was worried if I used that phrase,  a client would yell back “what do you know?  Nothing!”  I understood, I empathized, I had seen much of it before, I knew all about it from a witnessing perspective.  But I didn’t know.  Until now.  Now I know.

Looking at her, I was transported to my own birth, to that moment, that moment of impossibility.  The moment you realize the only way out of all these crazy “sensations” is to go into that place that hurts the most and have a baby, and that the last thing you want to do is to go into that place that hurts the most and have a baby.  It’s like you’re on the top of the craziest amusement park ride you’ve ever seen, and suddenly they’ve locked the gate behind you, and the only way out is down the ride.  And although the voices around you, your partner, your midwife, are lifelines for sure, and their hands are trying to reach out to help you, you are the only one on the ride.  Actually, you are the ride.  The ride is happening in your uterus.  And no matter where you go, the ride is coming with you.  And what seemed originally like a really great idea, now seems like a trap, closing tighter and tighter around you.

Back in real time, my client shifted her breathing, and dropped into the intensity.  I awoke from my dream, and tried to remember the things that helped me in that moment.  One of my midwive’s words came to me, “As big as this is going to get, Katie, you’re going to get bigger.  So let it get as big as it’s going to get.”  I tried to think what else I would have wanted to hear in that moment.  My voice began to return. Not with any grand claims to the power of women, and rites of passage, and It’s all worth it, but simply, truthfully.  Gently I reassured her that “Yes, this part sucks, but it’s temporary.”

Less than an hour later, my client, with the strength of a lion, went through the eye of the needle, and pushed her baby out into the world.  The sweetest, tiniest, most perfect little baby boy lay close on his mother’s chest, while daddy and grandma wept, and we welcomed one more impossibly perfect human into the world.

“My tailbone hurts,” she said. 

“I know.” I said.

         Today I was honored as a finalist in the First Annual Colorado Leading Lady Awards.   As I sat in that room full of over 150 women entrepreneurs and their families and friends, I was filled with gratitude and awe.  Awe at how far we have come as women, and gratitude for all the people that help us everyday to go farther. 

            When my grandmother Myrm was alive, her career aspirations were considered to be trivial at best, and a betrayal of her marriage and family at worst.  The next generation had their pick of “appropriate” jobs for women: Secretary, Teacher, Nurse,  and maybe Cleaning Lady.  After that, a generation of women stormed into the corporate world, guns blazing, blasting through all the glass ceilings they could.  And following that war zone, a few women started to voice their desires to be mothers, to be home makers, to be stay at home moms, or Work at home moms… So now, we have this phenomenal choice… to be moms, to be business owners, to be all of it.  To create the work we want, in the way we want it.   Today, women are not just “allowed” to work, but often “encouraged and needed to work”.  Women are a vital, essential part of the workforce and our economy, not just in war time, or down times, but for all time.  I am grateful to the women who carved the way so that I can get up each day and create my business in a way that serves women, and mothers, and my family at the same time. 

            When I opened the first Yo Mama Yoga in Santa Monica, it was out of necessity.  I couldn’t stand being told by one more Yoga studio owner that my students’ strollers were “in the way,”  or that the cheerios were making a mess on the studio floor, or that the pregnant women needed to stop chatting so much after class and clear out so the “power flow” class could begin on time.  I wanted to create a space for moms in the spirit of what moms were all about.  I wanted a studio that greets the frazzled late-comer with spit up all over her shirt,  and welcomes her with warmth and acknowledgement that she made it at all!  I wanted a center that incorporates nursing, diaper changes, tears and meltdowns into the yoga.  I wanted a studio that understands that sometimes the conversation after a yoga class is more important than the class itself.  Because let’s face it, moms and moms-to-be need a moment of zen more than anyone.

             I am so grateful to have been able to realize this dream, first in Santa Monica, and now in my home town of beautiful Boulder, CO.  I am grateful to my mother for the $2000.00 loan that started it all.  I am grateful to my husband, who helped me paint my first studio on our second date, and continues to infuse the business with his huge heart.  I am grateful to my sister, for her inspiring pregnancy and birth, and for the constant joy I receive from seeing her raise her sweet amazing son (known to the family yoga class as Michael Jackson because of his ongoing Halloween costume).  I am grateful to my best friend Dawnia for her constant support and being on the other end of way too many meltdown phone calls.  I am grateful to all of my teachers and coaches who have guided me towards my higher truth, and my path of heart.  I am also deeply grateful to my amazing team:  Kelly, Amanda, Brittney and all the teachers and practioners at Yo Mama that make it all happen.

           Finally, I am grateful to all the women who have walked through the doors of Yo Mama Yoga and into my life.  Through you all, I have been so inspired and so filled with awe.  I have gotten to share in the joys:  The moment a woman conceives after trying for so long, the moment a woman faces her fears to give birth powerfully, the moment a mom and dad meet their new baby, the moment a mom finally gets a baby to latch on to breastfeed, against all odds, and of course, that holy grail of motherhood, the moment a baby sleeps through the night!  I have witnessed the strength of single moms, the different kinds of families forging their way, and the sweet faces of so many babies!

            I have also shared the depth of the  losses along the way, and the heartbreaking, winding path that motherhood can take.  I have seen a woman continue to come to prenatal yoga week after week out of pure intention, struggling to get pregnant, and then struggling to keep those pregnancies, and I have shared in her triumph to finally hold her sweet babe in her arms.  I have seen the woman who chooses to adopt discovering that love goes way beyond biology.  And I have seen the mother open her heart again after a devastating loss, and welcome a new baby into her heart.

            And through all of this, I have also gotten to share my own journey.   My struggle to find the right partner, my struggle to accept the transition to being a mother, my struggle to balance the business, my new sweet little man, and my own mind amidst it all.

            In yoga last week I taught a pose in the Mommy and Me class, we call “the one armed warrior.”  The moms hold babies in one arm and do warrior with the other.  And that is what we are.  WE are warriors.  WE can do more with one arm, and half of our brain power, in the two hour time period when our babies are sleeping, than many people can do in a week. 

            Thank you so much for sharing your journeys, your babies, and your stories with me.   It is my goal that Yo Mama be way more than a yoga studio.  It is a home for you, to bring it all, the good, the bad, the exhausted, and the exhilarated.  To be celebrated and empowered as the women warriors that we are, choosing each day to show up for our children and ourselves and co-create a life that is focused on what is good, what is real, and what is joyful.  In a time as uncertain as our current one, it is a great joy to spend my days hearing the laughter of children. I truly honor and recognize the heroic journey that we are on together, and I thank you for walking this path with me.  Namaste.

"Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible."
--Marion C. Garretty

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new."
--Rajneesh

There is a divine impossibility to motherhood.  That is just part of the design.   We will never have it all together, the perfectly organized diaper bag, the "schedule" of naps and nighty night times, both baby and ourselves clean and presentable at all times. Our kids will not fit perfectly into our lives as they once were.  That is not their purpose, nor ours.  Kids are LIFE.  They interrupt, they intervene, they are inappropriate and inconsistent.  And guess what?  So is life.

I am striving for balance, without really knowing what that will look like now.  I notice that the days where I am able to surrender, miracles happen.  Phoenix will put himself down for a long juicy nap, and I will find myself sitting at the computer, doing exactly what I want to be doing. Meals get made, vitamins taken, and lots of smiles and laughter.  And other days where I decide to ENFORCE a nap time or some other "schedule," he and I both struggle and nurse and cry and try to squeeze ourselves into my idea.  His ideas are usually better, clearer, and easier to accomplish.  My favorite of his new ideas is the "let's stare at each other and laugh" idea.  I am convinced if the world leaders sat down and practiced this together, world peace would be the only possibility. 

Phoenix has such a simple, complete joy in just being here.  He doesn't need anything special (besides a dry diaper and a warm breast), and he doesn't worry.  He's not thinking, "hmmm... i'm 75th percentile for weight, what does that mean about me?" or "I wonder when I'll roll from my tummy to my back.  Everyone else my age is doing this."  He doesn't compare, he doesn't fret about the state of the world, He doesn't care what others have.  He cares only about the eyes looking into his, the hands holding him, and the love he is recieving and giving.

I want to be more like my son.  I want to wake up each morning so excited to be here that I can't stop kicking my legs into the air.  I want to find such delight in my husband's face that I could stare at it for fifteen minutes, happy to just trace the lines of his smile.  I want to be so excited about my lunch that I bury my face into my meal and sigh with full body contentment when I'm done.  I want to spend my day with joy learning new things every minute, and working so hard to master things that at the end of the day, I sink into the most delicious sleep.

 I am learning about Phoenix.  I am learning about motherhood.  As Phoenix learns to roll over, and laugh, and smile.  I am learning to let go, to surrender, and to release of the illusive concept of "Balance."  To realize that balance is not some static fixed point that you arrive at and cling to.  To strive for balance is to be constantly open to change.  Just as the yogi struggles in tree pose, constantly adjusting ever so slightly to the right or the left, being willing to lean on the wall, or just fall over sometimes, and get up and try again.  Day by day, Phoenix and I will discover what it means to be in balance.

As I finish this entry, I hear the sounds of an awakening boy...

This blog entry brought to you by Phoenix's 1:00 and 4:00 naps.

This week I hit the wall. Sleep deprivation, cranky moments (both mine and those of Phoenix), nursing, changing identity, all caught up with me in what we will now call... "black Wednesday." I pretty much cried the entire day. Phoenix cried maybe half the day. John probably wanted to cry, but didn't. By 7pm I called my midwife and got some needed advice. She said I was having a "jangly" day. Where everything was "jangling" my nerves and nervous system. What I needed was a reset.

Handing the baby to John, I made some chamomile tea and took it into the bathroom, where I ran the HOTTEST bath ever. (now that I'm not pregnant, no more concern about temperature!) I put Lavender, Rose and Chamomile essential oils in some Epsom Salts and poured those in. I put on a Classical Piano CD, and I lit a candle. Still crying, I dropped into the water and let it all go. All my wanting to be the perfect mother, my thoughts that I am somehow already contributing to my son's future need for therapy, my wanting to prove to my partner that I am the earth mother sexy goddess AND supreme baby whisperer of all time, my thinking that I can keep it all together, my thinking that I'll never have it all together again, my thinking that my baby is so tiny and perfect and too pure for this world, my thinking that my baby is cranky and colicy and I will never sleep again, my thinking that this motherhood thing was a crazy thing to do, my thinking that it's the only thing worth doing in life,... all these thoughts I let melt with the lavender and rose and swirl away into the bathwater. Chopin's Nocturne, with it's sweet melancholy sound crept into my heart and I allowed myself to not be a mother or a wife or a business owner or anything, but to just be a woman in the bathtub, with a lot of feelings. I brought my mind to the basics, sweet smell, nice music, nice hot water. Breath in, breath out. This too shall pass. Both the unbelievable sweetness of this newborn, and the crazy moments of difficulty of these first weeks, all will pass all too quickly. breath in, breath out. Candle, music, lavender, water, breath.

Strangely, when I came out of the bathroom, it felt like hours had passed.  I missed my men.  I couldn't wait to see my baby again. I came upon them in the sunroom, John had been doing some baby massage on Phoenix (who immediately calmed down when I gave him to his Dad) and both seemed content and happy. "Are you sure you had a full reset, honey?" John asked me, "That was only 15 minutes."

"I missed you guys." was all I could say. Still a little jangly, a little tender around the edges, but ready to be a mother again, I snuggled up with my baby, and knew we were on the other side of the Three Week Wall.

I am writing this blog with pride, excitement and hopefully some inspiration for those of you that are still awaiting the privilege of giving birth!

John and I welcomed our little angel on Tuesday may 12th at 2:02am. After a weekend of "practice" contractions, (my midwife called them practice, but they sure felt real) early labor began Monday morning around 6am. John and I labored together for a while, my midwife came at 8am and checked me. I was 5cm! I was so excited, and thought we'd have a baby soon.  Active labor began around noon. After a full day and evening of walking, chanting, squatting, and a just a little bit of swearing, I started pushing around 1am on Tuesday. Our baby boy was born at 2:02am, in our home.  I can say that nothing, not even all my experience at other people's births, could have prepared me for the miracle of feeling our son come out into John's arms.

And what surprise to welcome a SON!  we were all so convinced that little Sophia was coming!  And even more surprising was his size!  I am glad I didn't know he was over 8 pounds!  Where was he??

The birth was more amazing than I could have ever imagined.  I definitely came up against some intense edges, and lost my faith more than once.  It was challenging, for sure, but so worth it. And John was a phenomenal partner through the whole thing. Our midwives Elizabeth and Katherine were the perfect guardians of the birth. I have never in my life felt more powerful than I did holding our little son in my arms. I have so much awe for women and the birth process. And I am so grateful that Phoenix had such a peaceful welcome into this world. 

Phoenix is almost two weeks old now, and we are more in love every minute. My body is recovering well, John and I are getting used to following the daily rhythms of a newborn. We call our "to-do" list a "to-maybe" list and we're lucky to check off one thing a day. but it is a magical time. the "baby moon" is really worth carving out time for. This is actually the first time I've been in front of a computer in two weeks.  (truly a miracle)  I am enjoying the softness of being a mother.  For a longtime businesswoman, it is something to have my daily responsibilities reduced to such basics.  But beautiful as well.  I feel so human.

So congrats to all the mamas that have given birth, and for those of you still pregnant, you are in for an amazing ride.

Sending you all much love,

Katie, John, and Phoenix Orion