Music allowed me to hear the voice of my unborn baby.
During my pregnancy, I set the intention that my baby would offer me insights and answers via movement when we listened to music. I believed it was his opportunity to show me a glimpse into his soul.
Music also supported me in understanding and expressing (via my own movement) all the emotions I couldn’t actually verbalize to my baby (or to myself, sometimes). Each note sparked a new idea, question, or simple moment of appreciation for the being developing in my womb.
I would play reggae music as he moved back and forth across my mid-section. Some days I would try out 90’s hip-hop (I swear he would tap his foot to the rhythm). Classical music (the ultimate baby music cliché) just put him to sleep, no complaints.
His favorite music ended up being anything that made me dance. If I was shaking my bloated pregnancy booty it was (and still is) a good day for him; he’s down to shake along with me.
Oh, and we also listened to audio books. I had to drive a painful amount of time for work (four hours, three times a week). He slept through those audio books: Miranda’s dilemma about whether her Latin lover was actually murdering middle-aged art dealers in downtown Los Angeles really didn’t interest him.
I gave up fast food because it was killing my spirit, and probably my body too.
Fast food used to be my crutch. Each time I’d receive disappointing news, get into the headspace of not being “good enough,” feel fat (ironic much?), or have a hangover, I would buy fast food. It was so easy.
When I was younger, I had become idle in pursuing my passions, I was addicted to harmful romantic relationships, and completely detached from my body. I used to have a ritual of starting each Sunday like this: Brunch with my girlfriends, which would turn into mimosas on the beach, followed by a movie, so we could take a nap.
On my route home, feeling tired, hungry, and sad, I would pass a McDonald’s, a Taco Bell and a Wendy’s, side by side. For a while my pattern was to go to Taco Bell and order a few different options. If I was in the mood for sugar I would also stop at McDonalds or Wendy’s for a shake.
I would then drive home and eat all the stuff, half of it in the car.
I ended each week laying in bed hating myself.