The New Mother and her DIY Yoga Mat Bag
How a craft project and yoga helped me get my groove back after baby.
When I first had my oldest son, I felt as though I would never get to be myself again or do some of the things that made me happy before becoming a parent. The needs of a newborn are all encompassing. And it's really quite overwhelming... at least it was for me. If you've been there, you know what I am saying. I don't say this to be ungrateful for the blessings but new motherhood is hard, y'all and if it wasn't hard for you, then you are extremely lucky and I will be the first in line to congratulate you! But seriously, you're lucky and I'm jealous.
Two of my favorite things prior to the baby, my yoga practice and sewing/creating/crafting, took a backseat to the needs of my son but each day I would say to myself, I'll make some time to create or roll out my mat today. Spoiler: It rarely happened. I was just too dang tired and if I am being honest, I was just kind of down on myself. Emotions and hormones after childbirth are no joke.
As time went on, I started to get the hang of the mothering thing. I was showering daily and the baby was happy and I was able to take on more of the other things in life... so why did it take me so long to make the time for the things that I enjoyed doing? That could be the topic of a whole other Vocal post!
On my maternity leave, I took the baby out for one of our "test runs" out in public, you know for longer and longer periods of time, to get the hang of being out and about with him. This trip would be to the fabric store, one of my favorite past times. But on this venture out, I decided we would go to the really nice fabric store, the one that's a 45 minute drive away, the one that has so much fabric that it fills a warehouse. It was there that I got the inspiration to create something I'd been wanting to buy but just hadn't done yet, a yoga mat bag. It seems like such a simple thing... why spend the time making one when you could just buy one that will probably last longer? It's not about the time or money... it's about creating. It was sort of a way of fusing two things that I loved to do and committing to making the time to tend to them. The batique fabric that called to me made the long round trip and on-the-go baby feeding, totally worth it.
I searched the 'nets for patterns for yoga mat bags and ultimately, I just didn't seen anything that looked like it would work for me... so I drafted my own pieces, which is not something I would usually do. I buy patterns, I cut patterns, I follow the directions and that's how I normally sew things. This was just one of the steps in an experience that really meant a lot to me from start to finish. This creative process was mine and I was going to finish it... it was going to happen... this was me giving myself a pep talk so it would, indeed, actually happen.😂
Even the best laid plans can somehow get off track. I'd bring my sewing machine up to the dining room table and get all my business set up, the sewing pins, my fabric cutting shears, measuring tape, and the like... and then the baby would wake up from his nap after only 20 minutes. Nope, that wasn't going to stop me, I was determined. After this same cycle happening a few times, I knew that this project wouldn't be completed in one go, something I was used to in the past. No, I had to be OK with the fact that this may take me multiple, 20 minute nap times to complete and maybe some days I wouldn't make much progress. And once I made that deal with myself, it was OK. It was OK that I was making the time for myself in the little pockets that I was allowed as a new mother. The honesty of what life looked like now, compared to my life pre-parenthood, was what I needed. And those pockets of sewing time were the glimmers of hope that I helped to keep the creative juices flowing long enough to finish the project and if I'm being honest, get my groove back a little.
And guess what? I did finish it. My dining room may have been my sewing studio for a bit of time, OK a few weeks, but I didn't toss this into the unfinished-never-to-be-touched again project pile. This was one of my signature pieces, a simple, yet colorful and totally 100% funtional Yoga Mat Bag. My oldest son is now 7 years old and this bag has gone to mommy & me yoga, prenatal yoga with my second son, to yoga-thons for charity and all the way to the beach for sunrise sessions. The amount of times people have complimented it or asked me where I got it, it's more than I can count... and each and every time someone gives me that compliment, I am so proud of myself for, all those years ago, giving myself the permission to start weaving bits of myself back into my new life as a mother. It has continued to this day and I am a better mother and person for it.
All this to say that my story might help other new mothers, or any mother really, be motivated to carve out those little pockets of time for yourself, to do the things you enjoy doing because life is short and we should embrace those little things. I hope you do embrace those little things. I hope you do create your happiness. This bag has served me so well over the years, it would break my heart if anything ever happened to it but really, it's not the item itself, it was the love and energy put into creating it that means the most to me, even after all these years.
About the Creator
Amanda Light
A mother, a maker, a marketer and majorly cool lady! Director of Community and Content at SaltyGirl Beauty, Content Creator at PrimandPropah.com and @AmandaLightLoves
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A Decoupage Meditation
"Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mama, Mom, Mommy, Mooooooooom"... aaah the sweet sounds of my day. Those sounds are usually accompanied by the messes that grow around my children; messes consisting of game pieces and Pokemon cards, among other happy little things just strewn about. I love my family. I love my work in the beauty industry. But, I also love my time alone to be creative and to make my own messes. If I have to clean it up, I want to have at least enjoyed the ride.
By Amanda Light5 years ago in Motivation
I Never Chose the Easy Path; I Always Chose Hardship
From the earliest memories I can recall, life presented me with two roads. One was smooth, inviting, and well-trodden—a path that promised comfort, approval, and ease. The other was rough, rocky, and uncertain—a path of struggle, obstacles, and lessons that demanded effort, patience, and resilience. I never chose the smooth road. I never took shortcuts. Not because I was fearless, but because something deep inside refused to let me live a life that wasn’t earned. The easy path whispered promises of fleeting satisfaction, fleeting success, and fleeting recognition. It was tempting. Many around me chose it, and I often wondered if I was foolish for ignoring it. But I learned early that true growth is rarely convenient. The easiest choice often leads to emptiness, to regret, to a quiet knowing that you could have been more than you allowed yourself to be. Hardship became my teacher long before success ever noticed me. The lessons it offered were harsh, uncompromising, and often lonely. There were days when choosing the hard path felt like choosing isolation. While others were celebrated for small accomplishments, supported by friends and family, I walked in silence, with doubt as my companion. Progress was invisible to the world. Failures were frequent and relentless. Many nights, I returned home tired, my heart heavy, my mind questioning why I even bothered. Yet even in that silence, I was being shaped. I was learning the value of persistence, of dedication, and of refusing to give up on myself. The hard path forced honesty. It refused to allow excuses. It stripped away illusions and pretenses. I was left face-to-face with my limits, my fears, and my own humanity. On this path, I discovered strengths I never knew I had: patience I had never cultivated, resilience I had doubted, and self-respect that grew every time I stood up instead of walking away. These were not lessons that could be taught in comfort. They were only learned in struggle, in challenge, and in the quiet persistence of refusing to quit when no one was watching. I remember one time vividly. I had a goal that seemed impossible—one that required me to sacrifice comfort, leisure, and social approval. The easy path was right there: a way to avoid the challenge, to be “okay,” to follow what others had done before me. Many advised me to take it. “It’s safer,” they said. “It’s simpler,” they said. But I could feel, deep inside, that taking the easy way would leave me empty. I chose the hard path. The journey was grueling. Every step felt like pushing against gravity. But with each challenge, I gained more than I ever would have on the easy road. I gained endurance, confidence, and an understanding that real achievement is never handed—it is earned. Strength, I realized, isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It grows quietly, in the moments no one sees—the early mornings, the long nights, the repeated failures, the times you push forward when giving up would be understandable. Resilience is not simply surviving; it is deliberately choosing to continue, to stand again, to pursue the path that tests you the most. It is knowing that walking away is easier but will never lead to the person you are capable of becoming. I have walked many hard roads in life. Each one was different, yet the lessons were the same: comfort cannot teach endurance, shortcuts cannot teach discipline, and fleeting success cannot teach respect. Every struggle, no matter how small, adds to your character. Every failure is a mirror that shows you who you really are. And every choice to face hardship instead of fleeing builds a foundation that lasts long after temporary victories fade. There were times when I felt truly alone. People around me often misunderstood my choices. Friends, family, colleagues—they all questioned why I refused the easy way, why I worked harder, why I pushed myself beyond what seemed necessary. They didn’t see the growth happening quietly inside me. They didn’t see the small victories, the lessons learned, the resilience being forged. But eventually, the results spoke for themselves—not in a loud announcement, but in the quiet confidence and self-respect that I had built from the inside out. Life, I have learned, rewards those who endure hardship. Not always immediately. Not always visibly. But it rewards those who persist, who face struggle head-on, and who refuse to settle for anything less than becoming their fullest selves. Success that comes without effort is temporary; strength and self-respect are eternal. Hardship tests us, but it also teaches us. It shows us the depth of our own courage, the strength of our will, and the power of refusing to surrender. The lessons of the hard path are subtle, often invisible, and always lasting. I learned that failing is not shameful; failing is a necessary step toward mastery. I learned that enduring pain, even when no one notices, builds a type of strength that comfort never can. I learned that the more difficult the path, the deeper the reward—not measured in wealth or fame, but in character, wisdom, and self-respect. Every choice to embrace struggle instead of avoiding it shaped me. Every sacrifice, every extra hour, every moment of doubt faced instead of ignored, added to the foundation of the person I am today. My life was not easy. It was messy, unpredictable, and often overwhelming. But it was authentic. It was mine. And through hardship, I became resilient. I became someone who can face challenges without fear because I have faced them before. I became someone who respects themselves because I have honored my own effort. I became someone capable of growth because I refused to choose comfort over character. I often reflect on the people around me who chose the easy path. Many of them achieved quick victories, immediate recognition, and temporary peace. But over time, I noticed something important: the victories were shallow, the peace fleeting, and the growth minimal. They lacked the depth of resilience, the quiet power of self-respect, and the profound satisfaction that comes from knowing you endured, you learned, and you became someone stronger. Choosing hardship is not glamorous. It is not celebrated in real-time. It is often lonely, exhausting, and demanding. But it is transformative. It shapes your mind, your heart, and your spirit in ways comfort never can. It teaches discipline, patience, humility, and courage. It makes failure meaningful, effort valuable, and success earned. The hard path is where true people are made—people who understand that life’s challenges are not punishments, but opportunities. Opportunities to become better, stronger, wiser, and more capable. I never chose the easy path. I always chose the harder road, the one that tested me, the one that demanded effort, and the one that required me to face myself honestly. I walked through fear, doubt, exhaustion, and setbacks. I fell, and I got up. I failed, and I tried again. I cried, I questioned, I endured. And through it all, I became someone I could respect, someone who knew the value of persistence, someone who understood that hardship is not the enemy—it is the greatest teacher. Today, I measure success differently. I do not measure it by comfort, convenience, or ease. I measure it by growth, resilience, and the depth of self-respect I have cultivated. I measure it by how I faced challenges I could not ignore, how I embraced struggles that seemed unbearable, and how I refused to take shortcuts at the cost of my own becoming. I never chose the easy path. I chose the one that made me resilient. I chose the one that taught me self-respect. I chose the one that allowed me to become the person I am today. And if I had the choice again, I would choose the hard path every single time. Because the road of struggle is not only a journey—it is the making of a human being.writing...
By Ihtisham Ulhaq7 days ago in Motivation
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