My yoga bag turned out to be a bit of a time capsule. I unzipped the pocket, preparing to drop in my cell phone, a subway token, a pot of Blistex and some spearmint gum. In the pocket I found a subway token, a pot of Body Shop "Snow" lip balm (with sparkles) and some Juicy Fruit gum – oddly the same, yet different.


The last time I was taking yoga was about this time last year. We were getting ready to move into our first house, I was thinking about what kind of crib I would buy and the idea of getting a dog wasn’t even on our radar screen yet. At a certain point I had to quietly ask the yoga instructor to let me know which poses needed to be modified because I was pregnant, which she did in a really gentle way that didn’t draw any attention to me.


I wasn’t in that yoga class for very many weeks before things started to go wrong. I began spotting on and off, and eventually my husband had to rush me to the emergency room one cold, dark morning because it was so much more than spotting. The technician who performed my ultrasound tried to maintain a positive attitude but I knew things were not right when she could not locate the embryo, not even through an internal ultrasound. In the following weeks, I had so many blood tests, more than I’d ever had in my whole life up to that point. I was instructed to stop yoga until the bleeding stopped. I had to have another emergency ultrasound and again there was no sign of an embryo, although I was 10 weeks pregnant. I slowly bled my baby away for three weeks but as long as my pregnancy hormone continued to rise nothing could be done, even if there was no other evidence that a baby existed. One Sunday we went out for a nice brunch on the Danforth to unwind and by the end of the day it was all over although we still didn’t really believe it until the next day when science proved it.


I was thinking of all these things tonight as I walked to the community centre to my first yoga class in a year. It was a bit drizzly and a little breeze tossed around the leaves that have already fallen. I splashed through a few puddles. I had thought I was signing up for the class to lose weight and to unlock my neck and back, which knot up from my desk job but maybe it’s more than that. I’ve been so busy telling others that I’m fine that I have failed to notice that I’m not. I don’t care about things the way I did before. My clothes have grown a little shabby.  My weight continues to increase.  I don’t look after my skin like I used to. And worse than all that, I can’t seem to do the things that usually bring me joy like mosaics and painting. In a way, this feels I’m finally moving forward by taking this small step. Maybe I had to go around the full circle before I came back to okay again but I don’t know that I can ever be truly return to the way I was before it all broke down. I think the me that goes forward will always be oddly the same – yet different.

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