I am not a yogi, and other random realizations.

I am not a yogi. I realize this every time I go to yoga. And not because I don't try. I really, really do.  I get so very distracted.

A typical class goes like this, in my brain:
"OK, I'm here. I got a good spot. Oh no, my spot's getting crowded. No! Focus. Get ready. Huh. Does EVERYONE in this class have lululemon clothes on? When did that happen? Doesn't anyone get their yoga clothes from Marshall's like I do anymore? I mean, c'mon, this is BUFFALO! OK, focus. Breathe. Oh crap, I can't do that pose. I'm so damn fat and stiff.  Man, I used to be able to do that. FOCUS!"

And so on.

I am not a yogi, because if I were, I'd be not so judgmental and could focus.

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So, also this. I encounter people here and there, and am not sure what or how much to share. Let me back up. I used to take yoga quite a bit. As I reflect, I realize this marks my 11 year anniversary with yoga. We've had our ups and downs, but we always end up together, for better or worse. And we used to be so very good together. There were classes where, in downward dog, my heels were ALMOST ON THE FLOOR! And, I could nearly get into lotus. NEARLY. This from a girl born with hip dysplasia, and possessing runner's hamstrings and hip flexors is no mean feat. I'm quite a long way down the road from there, now.

Anyway. I've made quite a few yoga friends along the way. Friends who have seen me in various iterations of physical fitness, pregnant and not. And many of these friends have themselves taken classes through their pregnancies. And, of course, we had many pregnancy chats.

Of course, that was then.

So here I am in the now. And I'm seeing friends I haven't seen in a few years. The inevitable "what's new?" comes out and of course, I whip out pics of Baby O and Big E. But then. Um. Then. I start spilling my guts about Calla and having 2 babies in 2010 and blah blah blah suddenly I'm the crazy lady in the room.  But it feels disingenuous to NOT mention it, to leave out my second-born, to not explain the whole story to these women I'd swapped yoga pose modifications with in the past.

I don't know. I don't want to make people feel uncomfortable. But I feel she needs noticing, mentioning. I think back to those early days, weeks, even months after she died. I cringe thinking about the things that were coming out of my mouth. I didn't know how to turn a phrase.

I guess I still kinda don't.