I'm Going to Take Care of You

Tonight at my yoga class we ended the session, before savasana, with something called a reclined spinal twist.  It's really beneficial; it helps realign the spine and do all kinds of wonderful things for your back, especially if you have back pain.  But I was doing it wrong.  Our yogi had already turned the lights down in preparation for savasana (if you don't know what that is, google it...I love savasana), and she came around and started to reposition my shoulder and one of my legs because I was "crooked".  I started to move and she said, No, you don't have to do anything.  I'm going to take care of you.

And I said, Can I please take you home with me???

Because no one ever says that to me.  "I'm going to take care of you".  Those words are so foreign to me.

So is, You don't have to do anything.

I think that wives and mothers feel like this a lot.  We are caregivers, and the majority of what we do in our lives is for someone else.  A lot of times that gets lost in the shuffle.  We are cleaning a house, or making sure someone did their homework, or cooking a meal, or checking up on a friend, or laying with our eyes wide open because a family member is either not home or they are sick down the hall or right next to us.

I know that there are some people out there who would read this and say, So what?  This is your job.  This is what you're supposed to do.  And there are some who would say, she must like doing all of that or she wouldn't do it.

What people don't understand, sometimes, is that being a mother is all-consuming.  You give everything.  You give the body you had before you gave birth, and it's not the same again.  Even if you do fifty burpees a day, or do some other kind of exercise, there will be some change to it that will never leave.  You start putting other people first. The time that you spent doing all those hobbies and things you loved starts getting allocated to other things.  And that is not a bad thing, but being a mother is a sacrifice, also...because it changes who you are, and it demands your heart.

Did my yogi go home with me?  I wish she had.  She's a wonderful lady, and I always feel a sense of peace around her.  What I do take home with me is learning how to breathe during the tough times, and understanding that just because things are hard now, doesn't mean they will always be hard.

My heart is still breaking.  But it's also hopeful.