Yoga kicked my butt

My butt is sore today. That means I did yoga. I'm sore in different places than when I do the prenatal yoga DVD, so that's good.

Yesterday morning I went to prenatal yoga. This was sadly my first class although I've had the gift certificate for months (sickness, then cleaning, then visitors, then lack of parking...). I'm at 24 weeks and I've got 8 weeks of class, so I think that should work out very well.

The instructor was friendly and took note of my bad wrists by offering me alternate positions throughout class as well as coming over and showing me how to take weight off my hands in certain postures. I came with my own blocks and strap and mat, but all those things and thick blankets were provided. I found her instructions relatively easy to follow and the series of positions themselves good. [The other people in class were quite jealous of my gift certificate.] I still have extremely open (that's flexible and without tension for non-yoga types) hips, which is good from a yoga point of view (and a birth point of view).

I can't do a tree pose. This is where you stand on one foot, hold the other foot high against the inside of your thigh, and put your arms either folded over your heart or spread out. I was the only one who couldn't do it and it made me feel like an inept little fat girl, but I calmly just put my hands over my heart in mountain pose (standing with two feet on the ground) and breathed. The instructor was savvy enough to tell me I could lean against the wall for balance, but there was still an element of "I want to crawl away and hide," fighting against my yoga-centered, "I am embracing me with all my flaws and getting embarrassed over a thirty-second pose is anti-yoga."

Besides, if I could do tree pose and didn't have open hips, I'd probably be worse off for birth than having open hips and not being able to do tree pose. Everyone uses their hips to give birth, but even with all the reading I've been doing, I've never heard of someone delivering a baby standing on one foot. I'll have to ask my midwife this week.

Other problem: fashion. [Boys, this is probably a little too much information for you, even if it is about breasts.] The other people in class have these cute little maternity yoga camis and yoga pants, and I have huge breasts right now that will not be tamed by the cute maternity cami shelf bra. I can't wear a shelf bra normally. Pregnancy has added two (and I'm suspecting recently three) cup sizes to my already ample charms. When your cup size runs beyond letters used in passing report cards, it makes the cute maternity cami impossible and bra shopping in general quite difficult. I have workout maternity clothing angst.

The kid slept through most of yoga and woke up distinctly when a fire engine with sirens wailing went down the street outside: nothing, kick kick kick kick KICK. I put my hand on the kid and thought, "Calm down, it's just a fire truck, you're fine," (which is exactly what I would tell one of our cats who was similarly agitated) and the kicking subsided. Coincidence or mother-baby mind link? I've been reading about babies in the womb who seem to react to their mother's thoughts, the most clear example being babies of smoking moms who get agitated when their moms think about having a cigarette, so it's possible the kid understood me. The kid doesn't always stop kicking now when I put a hand on it, so there's something going on there.