Aiki Mama

Gina

     My first experience with Aikido was as a third year OB/Gyn resident. I was working 100 plus hours per week with a husband and 2 year old at home, and still recovering from a severe bout of postpartum depression. My first pregnancy had been exhausting, as I tried to squeeze in all of my most challenging final med school courses before the birth. In retrospect, assisting during surgery for 8 hours is not the best activity for an enormously pregnant woman.

     The birth was uncomplicated, but afterwards was a nightmare. My friends were all preparing for residency; traveling for interviews and doing rotations out of town. I was as well, and we ended up on a whirlwind coast-to-coast 3 week trip with a 6 week old and a breast pump. I should have known that something was amiss when I broke down in tears during my last interview, but doctors make the worst patients. We ended up staying in Madison, Wisconsin to be closer to my family. Things didn’t work out that way, though, and the months after my son was born were some of the darkest and loneliest that I have known. Antidepressants and my husband’s sacrifices kept me on this side of sanity, but I felt as though I were flailing through space at breakneck speed.

     There was a dojo near my home, and I took a beginners course on a whim. I was hoping to find an outlet, something to help me cope with life in general. Aikido became a scaffolding to hold on to in the midst of my chaotic life. I was clueless and couldn’t tell my irimi from my tenkan but no one cared. They just smiled, and encouraged, and allowed me to fail again and again until I was utterly lost, then told me it was good. I had never known such a feeling of freedom. I continued to train, eventually moving to Seattle and joining the Two Cranes community.

     The decision to have another child was difficult. When my son Aidan was in school we finally felt ready to try again, but I was determined to make it a different experience. That included continuing to train as long as possible. The first 8 weeks were the most difficult of all due to “morning sickness” (more aptly named “all damn day” sickness). Just looking at the mat made me ill. So I used that time to read Aikido books and do research online about training while pregnant. Not much available, to say the least. I had to rely on my own experience on the mat, as an obstetrician, and as a mother.

     I found an online forum on the subject of training during pregnancy and joined in the discussion. The responses that I received were amazing. One man called me delusional and irresponsible, a woman hoping to become pregnant thanked for my bravery. Many people gave their opinions, both positive and negative. While my decision to continue training did not change, I did have more insight as to how much feeling others might have about my choice and how I would have to adapt to those around me. Suddenly I had doubts as to how I would be received. Sensei and I sat down and had a long talk about expectations, both hers and mine. Her support of my training was clear, so once I stopped throwing up I got back on the mat.

     One of my fears was that people would be unwilling of training with me “in my condition”.  Friday Harbor Camp proved me wrong. It was my first foray onto the mat with my red “baby” tape on my belly. I trained with dozens of strangers, none of whom had reservations about training other than staying within the bounds of what was safe, which I defined. I have struggled to find my center and relax my body on the mat, but in pregnancy there was less inner conflict. Every cell was focused on my increasing girth and what self-modifications I had to make to keep my baby and myself safe.

     I continued that attitude once back at Two Cranes. Almost every time I paired up with someone there was a brief check in as to where I was physically (Rolling? Falling? Tsuki punching) and then we just trained. There was never a time that I felt unsafe or feared for the safety of my baby. Part of that was due to my own sense of what I could and could not due, and certainly Sensei’s eagle eye watching out for potential harmful situations played a part. Most impressive, however, was the way everyone I trained with paid attention to us as a pair and made accommodations as needed.

      As the months progressed I became more aware of my changing center of gravity and how I needed to bend my knees and straighten my back to compensate. The baby made it very clear that it needed to be protected during rolls, so I became rounder. For once itseemed natural to truly listen to what my body was saying and to respond accordingly. The most surprising thing was how good it felt. Yes, I had the normal aches and pains of pregnancy, but in general I felt strong and capable. In my capacity as a doctor I am often faced with the assumption from patients and other physicians that pregnancy is a pathological state that must be dealt with. How empowering it felt to resist that assumption, and to utilize my rotund body in ways that strengthened my muscles and spirit. Changing before and after class was almost as exhilarating. Pregnancy is a time of profound physical change, which can wreak havoc on one’s self image. Every time someone rubbed my belly, or kissed it, or simply saw the changes as I do every day at work- miraculous- my spirit soared. There is no doubt in my mind that all of that positive energy carried over into my delivery and post partum course.

     Eventually there did come a time when I had to stop. The day that I couldn’t get up off of the mat without help was the first clue, but I persisted. The epiphany came soon afterwards when halfway through training I realized that I had not paid attention to anything Sensei had said, because I was so focused on not peeing. My body was telling me that I was done, so with no reservation I plopped my big self on the bench and watched.

     Simone was born only a few weeks after that, perfect in every way. When we brought her home memories of the nightmare months after my last birth were at the forefront of my mind. I had asked for help, albeit meekly, and no one had responded. So I prepared myself to shout for help this time. But I didn’t need to. Within days there was hot food on my doorstep and casseroles in the freezer. Support came from everywhere; from work, my wonderful neighbors, and most readily from the Two Cranes community. What made this time so different? A different city, a less stressful work atmosphere, a happier husband, to be sure and Aikido. The tenuous scaffolding that Aikido had provided in a time of darkness remained, and allowed me to grow and blossom up closer to the sun. My attitude was deeply changed by the art and the community that I had found, and I was blessed.

     I will always be thankful for the experience of being an Aiki Mama. No, I don’t recommend Aikido to my pregnant patients as a matter of course; that would be irresponsible. I do, however, offer what I went through as a testament to what strength can do for someone in need: strength of body, of spirit, of community; strength of having a friend to lean on and strength of faith. I was fortunate enough to find it when I did, and I plan to hold on to it. It may be tenuous at times, but it’s there.

Gina Lagalbo is an OBGYN at Northwest Hospital