Pregnancy and Practice
I hated being pregnant. By the end, I could no longer fit into my maternity pants and had to wear an old pair of drawstring sweatpants every day. My arms were swollen and pink. They flapped back and forth, like the belly of a pig, when I washed the dishes. My butt was, as a visiting friend exclaimed, “So big!!!” My feet hurt, my pelvic bones ached, and my back and shoulders pinched.
But I loved practicing yoga, pregnant. I kept practicing Mysore-style Ashtanga, modifying positions as needed. One day in my third trimester, I lumbered into the studio like a buffalo among kingfishers, gathered my various props (blocks, blankets and cushions) and commenced my practice. My massive body rooted me to the ground, and on this day, I felt particularly grounded. I moved slowly and breathed deeply. Then, as I reached backward from standing into urdvha dhanurasana, (upward facing bow pose or wheel), I remembered prakriti.
According to samkya philosophy (one of the philosophical traditions of India), prakriti or Nature, is the feminine principle of the universe; it is Creation. I had always bristled at the gendered categories of this metaphysical concept, but as the weight of my belly bound me to the Earth, I finally got it: Nature is material. It is Creation. We women create. Therefore, we are prakriti, and prakriti is feminine.
Mother Nature: Pregnancy and Practice
My body was part of Nature. It was material, earthly; it mimicked Nature expanding herself and creating life. Gaining weight in pregnancy was natural: my pig arms, huge ass, and tired bones were all part of the blessed experience of Creation.
But months after giving birth, fat spilled over the top of my pants and my breasts—flaps of fat when they were empty and balloons of milk when they were full – were quadruple their normal size. I wore large instead of medium. When I was pregnant, my plumpness had a purpose. I was ripening. Now postpartum, saggy and shriveled, I felt bereft.
So I went to second-hand stores and bought clothes that fit me well and showed off my big boobs. I also reminded myself that the extra layers of fat were part of being a woman. I, like Nature herself, was a material phenomenon, creating and nourishing life. I befriended my belly. I picked it up lovingly and moved it gently to the side in twisting asanas (postures). I lifted it and laid it on my thighs for forward folds. I squished my breasts together for mayurasana (peacock pose) and giggled.
My love handles, my belly, my breasts – they might get in the way, but they are reminders of my pregnancy, they signify the act of creation that had occurred within me. And now, like the powerful Mr. Fantastic, I want to stretch my belly toward other mothers. I want to brush my belly against theirs and say, “Isn’t it amazing to be Mother Nature?”
Autumn Jacobsen holds a M.A. in Religious Studies from UCSB. She lives in Seattle with her husband, Eric, and her son, Asher Mukunda
By Autumn Grace Jacobsen
