My baby had colic during the first few weeks of his life; after we had gotten through the colicky phase, our daily massages were the most wonderful, blissful time I looked forward to every day. We connected skin to skin, eye to eye, and heart to heart.
I decided, since I could no longer teach yoga, I would share infant massage with mothers that wanted to learn. I couldn’t find anyone who did this, so I guessed I was “it.” I made up a little 4”x5” pamphlet and circulated it in my town. The first class was five people and their babies; I held it in my living room. Each class I taught was bigger in terms of attendance until we couldn’t hold it in my house any more. I opened more classes and moved it to a local recreation center — not ideal because of the noise and cold atmosphere, but it kept growing anyway.
Each class taught me more about infant massage; every type of baby, every type of parent, attended. I decided I had enough notes for a book, though it probably wouldn’t get published, I could distribute it to my classes. I rented a typewriter, and with a big belly (child #2) and a toddler at my heels, I put it together in three weeks — the time I had before I had to return the typewriter.
When I discovered I was pregnant with my second child, so much of my “outside” work had to take a back seat to my mothering. I was still nursing my first, so I nursed all the way through my second pregnancy, and continued to nurse when my daughter was born. Naturally, this took a lot out of me. But I worked on my book as I could, rounding up parents and babies for the photographic illustrations.