During a recent 
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Her question forced me to reflect on my life as a new parent nearly three years ago. Back then my daughter was tiny and prone to wail if she was not sucking on my breast or being carried in a sling. So I spent the first six months of her life either nursing her on a rocker-glider, or walking at a snail's pace with her curled up in a sling.
Prior to Ayla's birth, I was an avid yogini with a spotty meditation practice. I meditated only in times of crisis, and found that I wasn't able to concentrate for long periods of time while my world fell apart. But yet another miracle of childbirth is that you are forced to learn to meditate-you have no choice in the matter.
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As a newborn, my daughter would fall asleep on my lap and refuse to move an inch for hours at a time. The conditions were absolutely perfect for meditation. The house was empty, the phone didn't ring much (as I had taken a leave of absence from work) and I was physically trapped in a chair. I had nothing to do but breathe in and out, while gazing at my daughter.
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Mommy meditation was a tremendous gift to me. I had spent the better part of my life racing around trying to achieve success and social change, and when I gave birth in my mid-thirties, I was very stuck in my ways. Slowing down was going to be hard for me. As would the transition from thinking solely about myself to thinking mostly about my child.
