One of the things that comes with being a yoga teacher is that at least a handful of students each class will be seeing me for the first time since my pregnancy, and will inevitably ask “How’s the baby?!” I figure it will be like that for awhile, since I’m sure I must have taught hundreds if not thousands of students throughout those 9 months. My answer is usually “he passed away in July” and sometimes I add “but I like to think he’s doing well”. 

Today one of my friends who was work-exchanging at the studio and overheard all of this said to me later “Wow I’m so sorry you have to do that. It must be so hard”. It occurred to me then that although it is hard to keep my composure, keep smiling and answer all the questions minutes before I walk in to teach a class, it is also a blessing in many ways. I’d rather have people asking about him than pretending he never existed. And I know once people know he’s dead, they won’t ask anymore. So at least this way I get to keep telling people about him. Telling them how cute he was and how big his toes were; how he has the perfect tiny nose and lips and weighed a whole 8lbs6oz. 

Sometimes I just get blank stares and “I’m so sorry”, but often I get a story. Like one student, a cheery older man who drives a limo, told me about the day in 1983 when he had to identify his big brother’s body who had been killed in a tragic car accident on a Wednesday afternoon. A woman talked about a baby she lost, and another about her son who is disabled and has been through numerous brain surgeries. And what is wonderful is that they always seem to come to the conclusion that these great tragedies brought them great joys as well, sometimes that only became evident many years down the road. They are happy to be able to talk about their losses too. 

So when people ask “how’s the baby”, I’m not so sad anymore. I want everyone to know he’s doing amazing things, even though we can’t see him. 

#landonslegacy

One of the things that comes with being a yoga teacher is that at least a handful of students each class will be seeing me for the first time since my pregnancy, and will inevitably ask “How’s the baby?!” I figure it will be like that for awhile, since I’m sure I must have taught hundreds if not thousands of students throughout those 9 months. My answer is usually “he passed away in July” and sometimes I add “but I like to think he’s doing well”.

Today one of my friends who was work-exchanging at the studio and overheard all of this said to me later “Wow I’m so sorry you have to do that. It must be so hard”. It occurred to me then that although it is hard to keep my composure, keep smiling and answer all the questions minutes before I walk in to teach a class, it is also a blessing in many ways. I’d rather have people asking about him than pretending he never existed. And I know once people know he’s dead, they won’t ask anymore. So at least this way I get to keep telling people about him. Telling them how cute he was and how big his toes were; how he has the perfect tiny nose and lips and weighed a whole 8lbs6oz.

Sometimes I just get blank stares and “I’m so sorry”, but often I get a story. Like one student, a cheery older man who drives a limo, told me about the day in 1983 when he had to identify his big brother’s body who had been killed in a tragic car accident on a Wednesday afternoon. A woman talked about a baby she lost, and another about her son who is disabled and has been through numerous brain surgeries. And what is wonderful is that they always seem to come to the conclusion that these great tragedies brought them great joys as well, sometimes that only became evident many years down the road. They are happy to be able to talk about their losses too.

So when people ask “how’s the baby”, I’m not so sad anymore. I want everyone to know he’s doing amazing things, even though we can’t see him.

#landonslegacy

If there’s empty spaces in your heart,
They’ll make you think it’s wrong,
Like having empty spaces,
Means you never can be strong,
But I’ve learnt that all these spaces,
Means there’s room enough to grow,
And the people that once filled them,
Were always meant to be let go,
And all these empty spaces,
Create a strange sort of pull,
That attract so many people,
You wouldn’t meet if they were full,
So if you’re made of empty spaces,
Don’t ever think it’s wrong,
Because maybe they’re just empty,
Until the right person comes along.
- Ernest Hemingway

If there’s empty spaces in your heart,
They’ll make you think it’s wrong,
Like having empty spaces,
Means you never can be strong,
But I’ve learnt that all these spaces,
Means there’s room enough to grow,
And the people that once filled them,
Were always meant to be let go,
And all these empty spaces,
Create a strange sort of pull,
That attract so many people,
You wouldn’t meet if they were full,
So if you’re made of empty spaces,
Don’t ever think it’s wrong,
Because maybe they’re just empty,
Until the right person comes along.
- Ernest Hemingway

This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds. To watch the birth and death of a being is like looking at the movements of a dance. A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky. Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain. 
- Buddha 

This was the sky on our walk this morning. I had to stop to take a photo it was so beautiful. How wonderful is it that every time you look up at the sky, it is always a little different? It never stops changing, day to night, season to season, year to year. 

Sometimes too fast it seems. Time is a weird thing. On the one hand it feels like a century since Landon was with us,  and on the other hand it feels like these past two months have all be a blur, a flash, a dream. Yesterday Justin and I were talking about how it’s still hard to believe that this is all in fact happening. In the quiet moments when you actually have time to stop and think, you wonder in disbelief “is this really my life?”. It’s so far, too far, from anything anticipated or imagined. The way Justin explained it was “it’s like I’ve been hit in the face with a stick and still can’t comprehend what just happened” (a hockey analogy lol). 

It helps for me to have photos and writing too look back at. It makes it a bit more real. There’s a timeline, a process, a direction that is forward moving even though sometimes I feel like I’m going backwards. It makes this flash of life a little bit more meaningful. 

#landonslegacy

This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds. To watch the birth and death of a being is like looking at the movements of a dance. A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky. Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain.
- Buddha

This was the sky on our walk this morning. I had to stop to take a photo it was so beautiful. How wonderful is it that every time you look up at the sky, it is always a little different? It never stops changing, day to night, season to season, year to year.

Sometimes too fast it seems. Time is a weird thing. On the one hand it feels like a century since Landon was with us, and on the other hand it feels like these past two months have all be a blur, a flash, a dream. Yesterday Justin and I were talking about how it’s still hard to believe that this is all in fact happening. In the quiet moments when you actually have time to stop and think, you wonder in disbelief “is this really my life?”. It’s so far, too far, from anything anticipated or imagined. The way Justin explained it was “it’s like I’ve been hit in the face with a stick and still can’t comprehend what just happened” (a hockey analogy lol).

It helps for me to have photos and writing too look back at. It makes it a bit more real. There’s a timeline, a process, a direction that is forward moving even though sometimes I feel like I’m going backwards. It makes this flash of life a little bit more meaningful.

#landonslegacy

"Love is the cure, for your pain will keep giving birth to more pain unless your eyes constantly exhale love as effortlessly as your body yields its scent." - Rumi

Yesterday I was very proud of myself. I spent the whole afternoon surrounded by babies, kids and moms and felt fine, even happy. I was on a mission; there was no time to stop and think. Today was a different story. A fellow yoga teacher brought her baby boy to the studio after a class I taught. Cutest kid ever. I cooed over him for a bit and admire how quickly he’s growing. 

Then all of a sudden it felt like I was punched in the stomach. I had to hide in the bathroom and cry for 20 minutes. It’s a funny thing grief, it’s either ON or OFF. It doesn’t feel like there’s much of an in-between. 

Seeing other babies is hard because I’m either jealous, angry, sad, or all of the above. Overwhelming jealous if the mom is happy and cherishing every moment with her babe. Raging angry if the mom is unhappy and taking it all for granted. And then I’m sad either way because I don’t really fit in anywhere - not with my friends who are moms, nor with those who aren’t. I’m just in a space in between, a “waiting room”. I can’t go back but don’t know how I’ll go forward. Everyone knows I had a baby but I don’t get to do all the mom things like talk about milestones and for most part everyone acts like he never existed. It’s hard to find a space admist those emotions for love. But love is the only cure, the only solution to any of our pain, I know. I just wish it wasn’t so damn hard.  
 

"Love is the cure, for your pain will keep giving birth to more pain unless your eyes constantly exhale love as effortlessly as your body yields its scent." - Rumi

Yesterday I was very proud of myself. I spent the whole afternoon surrounded by babies, kids and moms and felt fine, even happy. I was on a mission; there was no time to stop and think. Today was a different story. A fellow yoga teacher brought her baby boy to the studio after a class I taught. Cutest kid ever. I cooed over him for a bit and admire how quickly he’s growing.

Then all of a sudden it felt like I was punched in the stomach. I had to hide in the bathroom and cry for 20 minutes. It’s a funny thing grief, it’s either ON or OFF. It doesn’t feel like there’s much of an in-between.

Seeing other babies is hard because I’m either jealous, angry, sad, or all of the above. Overwhelming jealous if the mom is happy and cherishing every moment with her babe. Raging angry if the mom is unhappy and taking it all for granted. And then I’m sad either way because I don’t really fit in anywhere - not with my friends who are moms, nor with those who aren’t. I’m just in a space in between, a “waiting room”. I can’t go back but don’t know how I’ll go forward. Everyone knows I had a baby but I don’t get to do all the mom things like talk about milestones and for most part everyone acts like he never existed. It’s hard to find a space admist those emotions for love. But love is the only cure, the only solution to any of our pain, I know. I just wish it wasn’t so damn hard.
Β 

#backonmyhands Day 8. Headstand butterfly style! So far the leading name for this #pranavidastyle print is “Metta-morphosis”. So “Metta” as in the Pali word for loving-kindness - a play on the word metamorphosis, the process of transforming caterpillars into butterflies. What do you think? Any other ideas? For those of you who have been asking, the new www.pranavidastyle.com website should be finished by the end of this week! (I decided to redo everything from scratch, so lots of work but totally worth it) πŸ˜πŸ‘

#backonmyhands Day 8. Headstand butterfly style! So far the leading name for this #pranavidastyle print is “Metta-morphosis”. So “Metta” as in the Pali word for loving-kindness - a play on the word metamorphosis, the process of transforming caterpillars into butterflies. What do you think? Any other ideas? For those of you who have been asking, the new www.pranavidastyle.com website should be finished by the end of this week! (I decided to redo everything from scratch, so lots of work but totally worth it) πŸ˜πŸ‘

Day 6 #backonmyhands . Happy that I’m finally getting the strength to hold off the wall a bit! I loved so many of the suggestions you had for naming this #pranavidastyle legging print. I have a long list of options, but right now I think we’re going with After the Storm β˜”β›…πŸŒ»πŸŒˆ . I figure the song “Flower” by Little Panda is fitting 😘

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the rest of the world calls a butterfly.”
- Richard Bach

Lately I keep having this dream where I’m screaming at the top of my lungs “I WANT MY BABY BACK!!” over and over like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. 

As kids we were used to hearing “No”. No, you can’t have chocolate for breakfast. No, you can’t have that expensive toy. No, you can’t stay out past curfew. At the time we might have gotten very upset, but as we got older we came to understand it wasn’t because our parents didn’t love us that they said “No”. In fact it was just the opposite - they knew that bigger, better things in life would come if not every wish and desire we had was immediately fulfilled. 

As “grown ups”, we get used doing whatever we damn well please. We get pretty confident we know what is “good” for us, and what will cause us suffering, and try to make the best choices. 

But still there are times when life tells us “No”: a broken relationship; a tragic accident; the death of a loved one. People we love are lost or hurt. Babies we want so bad die. It seems the only normal thing to do is scream, cry, throw a tantrum and ask WHY?? 

In the moment grief seems all there is, and the universe, God, life and whatever else seem horribly cruel. But I try to remember that in the large scheme of things, this is only a glimpse of my life. Keeping Landon might have brought me an immediate joy and saved me from a life of missing my first born son. But truth is I don’t really know what direction the rest of my life will now go, or what gifts might come of this loss.

Maybe we all are still children just thinking we know what’s best. Maybe, just maybe, this “No” can be understood as an act of love, too. 

#landonslegacy

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world,Β the rest of the world calls a butterfly.”
- Richard Bach

Lately I keep having this dream where I’m screaming at the top of my lungs “I WANT MY BABY BACK!!” over and over like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.

As kids we were used to hearing “No”. No, you can’t have chocolate for breakfast. No, you can’t have that expensive toy. No, you can’t stay out past curfew. At the time we might have gotten very upset, but as we got older we came to understand it wasn’t because our parents didn’t love us that they said “No”. In fact it was just the opposite - they knew that bigger, better things in life would come if not every wish and desire we had was immediately fulfilled.

As “grown ups”, we get used doing whatever we damn well please. We get pretty confident we know what is “good” for us, and what will cause us suffering, and try to make the best choices.

But still there are times when life tells us “No”: a broken relationship; a tragic accident; the death of a loved one. People we love are lost or hurt. Babies we want so bad die. It seems the only normal thing to do is scream, cry, throw a tantrum and ask WHY??

In the moment grief seems all there is, and the universe, God, life and whatever else seem horribly cruel. But I try to remember that in the large scheme of things, this is only a glimpse of my life. Keeping Landon might have brought me an immediate joy and saved me from a life of missing my first born son. But truth is I don’t really know what direction the rest of my life will now go, or what gifts might come of this loss.

Maybe we all are still children just thinking we know what’s best. Maybe, just maybe, this “No” can be understood as an act of love, too.

#landonslegacy

"Many people avoid reflecting upon their grief because they fear feeling pain. What they don’t realize is that a good portion of the pain they feel is actually the pain of their resistance to grief."

- Cecilia Rasmussen

Before Landon I never kept a journal, except for a few failed attempts in my pre-teen years. Unexpectedly, when Landon’s death catapulted me into an experience of emotional and physical pain beyond my imagining, social media became my journal. I’m not sure I would have had the mindset or urge to start writing if it weren’t for at first almost feeling a duty to tell people what had happened. Once I managed to string together a few coherent sentences and make that first post, writing became an integral part of my day-to-day survival kit. I clung to my phone for weeks just so I could write down my thoughts as the swept through my mind, causing a tornado of grief, anger and despair. Writing it all down helped to clean some of it up; it helped to reorganize things again after the chaos. Not only did social media inspired me to write, it gave me an means to “show off” Landon since in real life no one asks or wants to hear about your dead baby. 

Now, I find my “need” to write is less. Usually just at night, or after an unexpected or stressful event, or when I read or hear something that really resonates.

People often comment that I am “so strong”. I realize now that it was my writing and sharing that jump started my healing and opened my mind to making a more beautiful life for myself. Had it not been for this, I would probably be trapped beneath all the debris left behind when that storm hit. Instead, I became an observer of my life. I started to study my life, my relationships and conversations almost anthropologically (I knew I got that degree for a reason!). I was able to see my grief and talk about my thoughts and feelings without being consumed by them. There is no way on earth I would be surviving as well as I am now had it not been for this. 

 #landonslegacy

"Many people avoid reflecting upon their grief because they fear feeling pain. What they don’t realize is that a good portion of the pain they feel is actually the pain of their resistance to grief."

- Cecilia Rasmussen

Before Landon I never kept a journal, except for a few failed attempts in my pre-teen years. Unexpectedly, when Landon’s death catapulted me into an experience of emotional and physical pain beyond my imagining, social media became my journal. I’m not sure I would have had the mindset or urge to start writing if it weren’t for at first almost feeling a duty to tell people what had happened. Once I managed to string together a few coherent sentences and make that first post, writing became an integral part of my day-to-day survival kit. I clung to my phone for weeks just so I could write down my thoughts as the swept through my mind, causing a tornado of grief, anger and despair. Writing it all down helped to clean some of it up; it helped to reorganize things again after the chaos. Not only did social media inspired me to write, it gave me an means to “show off” Landon since in real life no one asks or wants to hear about your dead baby.

Now, I find my “need” to write is less. Usually just at night, or after an unexpected or stressful event, or when I read or hear something that really resonates.

People often comment that I am “so strong”. I realize now that it was my writing and sharing that jump started my healing and opened my mind to making a more beautiful life for myself. Had it not been for this, I would probably be trapped beneath all the debris left behind when that storm hit. Instead, I became an observer of my life. I started to study my life, my relationships and conversations almost anthropologically (I knew I got that degree for a reason!). I was able to see my grief and talk about my thoughts and feelings without being consumed by them. There is no way on earth I would be surviving as well as I am now had it not been for this.

#landonslegacy

Day 5 #backonmyhands I did my go-to favorite inversion scorpion #pinchamayurasana (“feathered peacock pose”) for the first time since Landon today. It’s going to be a long time before those toes reach my head again, but I’m just happy I still have some upper body strength to balance this. I’m not feeling confident enough to fly up into this yet, so I just walk my feet up the wall for now. 

On a side note, I’m super pleased with the new #pranavidastyle racerback tank design, doesn’t ride up even in inversions! 😍😍

Day 5 #backonmyhands I did my go-to favorite inversion scorpion #pinchamayurasana (“feathered peacock pose”) for the first time since Landon today. It’s going to be a long time before those toes reach my head again, but I’m just happy I still have some upper body strength to balance this. I’m not feeling confident enough to fly up into this yet, so I just walk my feet up the wall for now.

On a side note, I’m super pleased with the new #pranavidastyle racerback tank design, doesn’t ride up even in inversions! 😍😍