How living with cats prepared me for parenting a human... except for when it didn't

From birth, I have always lived with cats. The most I've ever had was seven (4 adults and 3 kittens), and the fewest was one. I moved out of my mom's house when I was 18, and a few months later adopted Harley. Next came Zecky (in my friend's hamper), and lastly Kaya (left in the night-drop box at the local shelter). Harley was hit by a car when he was just 5 year old :-( , but Zecky and Kaya have stuck with me through two relationships, ten moves (including five cities, three states, two countries, two cross-country trips in moving trucks and three plane trips), one hurricane evacuation and the arrival of one baby. They were there, next to me while I was going through my noisy labor (well, Zecky was sleeping) and they were there when Zora was born (Kaya took off for a day right after the birth, which had me fretting to no end). They are often there when we practice yoga--and Kaya loves to join us for shavasana (we call it chat-vasana--"chat" is "cat" in French). I love cats, but I L.O.V.E. my two kitties. While I was pregnant, they would curl up next to my tummy and purr, which would inevitably make the baby start kicking. Zora loved the kitties even before she was born :-)

Chat-vasana

Kaya was thrilled to find out we were having a baby

As usual, Zecky took a nap

Zecky looking for some attention during my labor

Kaya was the stillest thing in the room during my labor

But, like having a kid, life with the kitties has not always been easy. There are a few lessons I learned from my two furry friends that have come in handy once I was a mother to a human child. Well, to a certain extent...

1. Don't get too attached to material things (like your hair!): Children spill things and break things and get poop on things. I was already more than ready for this when Zora arrived. Most of these "ruining shit that I care about" lessons came from Zecky. He has spilled all kinds of food (he once dove into an over-easy egg I was eating, splattering yolk all over me and the couch--this was pre-vegan Nicole), knocked things down, and has tracked mud over every surface of the house. When Zecky was about two years old, he gave me an unsolicited haircut. This is not a joke. I used to have hair down to my waist, and I would braid it at night. Zecky would often try to chew on the hair-tie, so I would hide my braid under my pillow. One night, I guess I forgot to put my braid under the pillow, and I was sleeping more soundly than usual, and Zecky spent the entire night chewing on my hair. I'm still not joking. I awoke to a pile of hair on my pillow, which totally freaked me out. I looked in the mirror, and saw that Zecky had completely chewed through one third of my braid. He cut off about 12 inches of my hair. My hair is as straight as it comes, so there was no hiding this missing chunk. The only solution was to cut the rest of my hair to the same length. I was pissed. I have since forgiven him, but I still wouldn't trust him with a clump of my hair.

2. Don't get too attached to a full night's sleep: One of the apartments Alex and I rented was on a busy street, so the kitties became indoor cats for one year (we did let them out on the balcony, which led to lesson #3). As anyone who has cats knows, once they get a taste of the outdoors, they can't really go back. Zecky and Kaya both went completely stir crazy in this apartment. Most of this was at night. They would tear around the apartment, crying, all night long. We tried closing them out of our room, but they would just scratch at the door. We tried putting them in the other bedroom, but then we had the sounds of Zecky trying to beat down the door.  Between the cats and the family of twelve that lived downstairs and blasted the TV at all hours, I didn't get much sleep that year. This still didn't quite prepare me for the sleep-deprivation of parenthood.

3.You must fight for your kitties (even if they may be rabid): As mentioned in #2, Zecky and Kaya were indoor cats for one year--except for going on the balcony. We lived on the second story and we rigged it so they couldn't get down, but they could still go out to get some fresh air, to catch some rays... and to catch bats. Alex woke me up in the wee hours of the morning saying "Zecky caught a bat!" Half asleep, I asked where it was. "Flying around in the apartment". I was up. I should stop here, before I make this story too long. Here's the abbreviated version:
Zecky caught a bat. We called animal control to come save the bat dying on our balcony. Animal control lady came, bat was gone, so she asked for Zecky's rabies records. Zecky's shots were 2 weeks overdue. She took Zecky and said he would be put down. I called the guy in charge, cried and pleaded to get our cat back. He finally agreed to a 6-month home quarantine. We moved to New Orleans 3 months into this quarantine.
Ok, that was still kind of long. The cutest part was when Alex was plotting to break into the animal shelter and rescue Zecky. I think he would have done it.
 
4. Kitchen cupboards must be baby-proofed: Zecky can open anything. The doorknobs where we lived in France were latch style, so Zecky learned to jump up and hang from them to open doors. Watching this act would simultaneously dazzle Alex's great-aunt, and annoy his grandmother. When we moved back to the US, he would continue to try to open all doorknobs, even the round ones. Sometimes he would succeed. The kitties didn't have a kitty door in New Orleans, so when Zecky wanted in, he would just hang from the front doorknob until one of us would notice the knob jiggling (the first few times it was kind of scary...), and would let him in. His mad opening skills do not end there though. He also opens kitchen cabinets, and not just the ones at floor level. We actually needed more baby-proofing in the kitchen for our cat than for our human baby.

5. You might get some poop on you: This was a lesson from the dearly departed Harley. Harley was a fighter. One morning, I heard the telltale sounds of a cat fight--hissing, growling that grew louder and louder until it became howling. I ran out the door, just as the other cat was running off (Harley usually dominated!). I picked up Harley to make sure he was ok, and my heart skipped a beat. His tummy was completely covered in a warm, wet substance. I was sure it was blood, or worse, some part of his insides hanging out. I looked at my hand, expecting to see red, but instead saw brown. Yes, his entire tummy was covered in shit. I did a complete 180 degree turn in a microsecond. I went from loving, concerned mother to horrified and disgusted--I dropped Harley, and ran inside, closing the door behind me. I'll never know whose shit it was, but I suspect it belonged to the other cat. As I said, Harley dominated, and I think he literally scared the shit out of the other cat. As if this wasn't bad enough, Harley was back at the door, within 30 minutes, completely poo-free. He didn't get any kisses on his face for a long time...

6. Baby naps are done best together: This last lesson came Kaya. I adopted her when she was just a few weeks old, and I could feel that she still needed lots of physical contact. For the first several weeks, she would nap on my lap, or in the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt (my first experience with "babywearing"). She was able to settle down and sleep peacefully for longer periods. If I set her down to nap, she would just cry. Hmmm... sounds very familiar.

In all seriousness, I know that having a baby is not really like having a cat, but I do love my two kitties to pieces, and I feel so lucky that Zora is growing up with such an awesome pair of feline companions!

Kaya with napping newborn Zora

3-month-old Zora, with napping Zecky

The Stick Shows a Plus Sign!

On Thursday, April 17th, 2008, I peed on a stick, which brought us the news that our life was about to change--big time! I had been feeling tired and a bit queasy the week before, and my suspicions were confirmed--I was pregnant.

I immediately looked online to see if I could find any information on if/how I should adjust my yoga practice, now that I was pregnant. I found this article, which was pretty useful, and seemed to make sense. I also sent emails to Kiran and Nancy Gilgoff (Kiran's teacher, who Alex and I had practiced with a few times, and who I loved and trusted as much as Kiran) to see if there was information they had to add. There were positions that were to be altered so as not to put pressure on the uterus (Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana, Marichyasana B and D, and others...), as well as postures that would have to be avoided or altered as my mid-section would grow. I felt excited about the changes that were happening to my body and that would happen in my yoga practice, and empowered by the research I had done on how to practice safely during pregnancy. Then the real nausea and the extreme fatigue set in!

Anyone who is reading this is probably well aware that the term "morning sickness" is an unfortunate misnomer. I'm sure there are some lucky women who experience nausea just in the morning, but most pregnant women I've known, who have nausea, are pretty much sick 24-7! I would wake up in the morning and stand on my yoga mat and stare. All I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and nibble on saltines (I was lucky enough to be able to keep food down). After a few weeks of trying to practice, and not really being able to do it, I grew so frustrated that I decided to take a break.

Joanne Darby practicing 2 days before giving birth.
I stopped doing backbends early on in my pregnancy.

Physically, this was necessary, but emotionally, this was a really difficult decision to make. I had heard all about Joanne Darby and many other women who had practiced throughout their entire pregnancies. I would look at photos of Joanne, and I felt like a failure. It feels silly to be writing this now, but I really thought that somehow I was failing my child to not be practicing yoga while I was pregnant. Perhaps part of this was due to hormones, but I also wanted the pregnancy, and everything that was to follow, to go perfectly. Naïve much?

By the time I started up my practice again (8 weeks later), my body was completely different, and it was clear that it would be a long road back to my regular practice. Again with the naïveté--2.5 years later, and I'm still not back to where my practice was pre-pregnancy (let alone pre-Katrina). I have adjusted my definition of "regular practice", and I am thankful to have Ashtanga yoga in my life--no matter how much or how little. Aside from the fact that I had lost some strength over my yoga hiatus, my body had also become heavier and bulkier. I could no longer comfortably do a forward bend with my feet together, and twists felt like trying to wring water out of a sandbag. I tried to be thankful for any day that I was able to do any sort of yoga practice.

Me in Utthita Hasta Padangushthasana at ≈ 7 months

Bakasana

Trying to get into Eka Pada Shirshasana

I also started to do something quite out of my normal character--I started going to non-Ashtanga yoga classes. Part of it was to do yoga, but mostly I wanted to be around other pregnant women. Somewhere along the way we had decided to have our baby at home, and I also thought there might be some relaxation techniques to be learned in a prenatal yoga class. It was a really interesting and wonderful experience for me. I'm usually not open at all to non-Ashtanga classes (not because I think there's anything wrong with them, but because I am happy with the practice I have), but the energy in the room in that first class was amazing. I felt incredibly connected to the other moms-to-be, and to the fetus growing inside of me. During the last month of pregnancy I didn't do much of my Ashtanga practice, but I did continue with the prenatal yoga classes. In fact, the last one was on a Thursday, and our baby girl was born at home three days later. The birth was extraordinarily smooth and pretty quick (5.5 hours total)--but that's a story for another time.

Why am I here?

There was torrential rain going on outside this morning during mysore class. The room has a large skylight, so we could hear the rain coming down--and it was loud! It brought me back to the last shala where I used to practice, in New Orleans. We would often have thunderstorms going on outside as we practiced, and I loved the way I felt part of the outdoors, even though I was inside. I started thinking about all that's happened in my life since my practice first started in New Orleans, and all that's happened in my practice. I know, this is not what you're supposed to be thinking about during practice, but that's just part of who I am now--thinking whenever I get the chance--which is not often! As I continued with the primary series postures, I decided that I wanted to start writing about my experiences, trying to revive and maintain a yoga practice, while being a full-time mama to a two-year-old. Hopefully somewhere along the way, someone will read these words and I will be able to connect with others out there in the yoga world and the parent world who have their own stories to share.

I'm going to start off by posting some of my yoga background, and then get into what my practice was like during pregnancy, after pregnancy, and beyond.

Disclaimer: I'd like to be very clear that I'm not an especially good writer (I'm a mathematician by trade), so if that's what you're looking for, you might be in the wrong place!