The Space to Become a Mother

By Atma Dharam Kaur 

It was 5:30 a.m. when I left my house, driving up the empty 405 freeway in Los Angeles to my job on the set of a wacky new kids' show called "Johnny Time." I exited the freeway in Valencia, at Magic Mountain, just as the first rays of sun hit the tops of the roller coasters. I loved my work. 

At 39, I was a set decorator, pregnant with my first child. Determined to keep working until the first pangs of labor, I refused to slow down. I hadn't really thought about how soon I'd return to work after the birth. I figured I could carry my baby with me from prop house to prop house and set to set. Nothing needed to change. 

I had never been pregnant before, and there were no women on the crew who had given birth, so there was no pregnancy advice. But so far, I had no complaints except one: the smell of coffee made me nauseous. And I loved my coffee. 

As I drove into the studio lot, I contemplated the astonishing situation I was in: I was driving in my car, and at the same time, a human baby—flesh and blood, with a heart and fingernails—was growing inside my body! It was an indescribable miracle. 

But my boss and the crew were ambivalent about my pregnancy. As long as I did my job and didn't complain, it was all good. I put in 18-hour days, creating, building, and decorating magical fantasy sets. As a crew member, I more than carried my (ever-increasing) weight. 

A Moment of Reckoning 

But one day, the producer criticized our set, and it upset me. I can't even remember why I got so mad, but I remember I was livid. And as my anger reached a critical point, I suddenly experienced intense contractions. I was terrified! It was only May! My baby wasn't due until October! I left the set and crumpled into a corner out of sight of the crew, worried sick. 

Then, in that quiet corner, hands on my belly, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Just breathing. And everything shifted. It felt like a wave of calm had enveloped my body in a safe cocoon. The anger evaporated. The contractions slowed, then stopped. 

These were Braxton Hicks contractions brought on by extreme stress. My body was telling me to just stop. Nothing was worth getting so upset over. This tiny human being inside me, whose existence depended on me, needed a tranquil home. I was suddenly at peace. I gave myself permission to not fixate on my work. My body and my baby were my priorities. I established my work boundaries and became a proud, pregnant set decorator on a kids' TV series. 

Somehow sensing this change within me, the crew started treating me differently—with more respect and reverence. No one let me carry anything too heavy. Nobody expected me to push too hard. The work still got done, the sets looked amazing, and I was relieved and empowered. 

The Noise of Today 

I am relieved that I had both my kids before the birth of social media. If I'd been pregnant today, I would have lost myself in the prenatal/postpartum/motherhood information abyss. Recently, I climbed into an online rabbit hole—I entered the word "Pregnancy" on my phone and was hit with so much information that I missed both lunch and dinner. Skin-tight maternity leotards, the best sex positions during pregnancy, post-pregnancy weight loss drinks, rock-hard abs, all the best newborn stuff to buy, and a baby poop color guide. And that was just the first five minutes of scrolling. A flood of digital advice that seemed somehow disconnected from reality. 

If I'd had all that noise back then, I wouldn't have been able to pay attention to what was really happening within my body, my emotions, and my intuition through all the stages of pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood. That physical awareness of another living being growing inside me—the awareness that told me to stop and breathe in that quiet corner on set—might have been drowned out. 

Finding Your Space 

At the Infinite Space Khalsa Way Prenatal Yoga program, you too will feel relieved and empowered. Using the basic principles of Kundalini Yoga, Khalsa Way Prenatal Yoga teaches mothers to recognize their body's innate wisdom. Your body already knows what to do. Expectant mothers in Khalsa Way yoga go deep inside themselves to move through labor with the courage, grit, endurance, and tenacity of an athlete. By surrendering the illusion of control, our mothers learn to go with the flow. At any stage of your pregnancy, Khalsa Way yoga gives you the space to connect with your baby—mentally, spiritually, and physically—throughout pregnancy, birth, and the early years of life. 

Every birth is unique. Your baby is the one who decides when labor begins. Some babies are born vaginally, with or without epidurals, while others are delivered via Cesarean. Some labors last two hours, while others span three days. Babies are born in hospitals, at home, in water, in fields, and even in taxis. No matter how your baby enters the world, every birth is sacred. 

The Khalsa Way practice is powerful, graceful, playful, and accessible to all pregnant women. Our classes offer space to nurture, reflect, and connect with other mothers. Each session welcomes all levels, encouraging every woman to listen to her body and move at the pace that feels right for her. We help expectant mothers trust their intuition with mindful practices rooted in the belief that the relationship between mother and child begins in the womb. This is a sacred time, and every woman deserves to feel nurtured, supported, and deeply honored. 

At Infinite Space, we provide you with the space you need to be the mother you were born to be.