In which we discuss pre-natal yoga

All day, I was so excited to go to this pre-natal class at my favorite studio. I gave yoga up when I started my current job almost 2 years ago because the hours were too long. Soon after that is when The Year of Sickness began, surgeries, then treatments, then school. You know how this story goes. And the untold part of it is that I turned against my body, saw it as weak, and gave up the single most thing that made me love my body more than anything else. Punishment? I can't be sure, but it was something like that.

At the start of IVF#2, I went to a yoga class at my favorite studio. I felt fantastic, just as I always do. I thought I'd keep going, but stims got in the way. Perhaps you remember transfer day and how happy I was to see my favorite yoga teacher and how she was like a glowing omen for me that day?

So, all day, I waited for this class. I showed up an hour early b/c I was so worried about getting there on time that I mixed up the start time of the class. I occupied myself with my book at a local (bad) cafe, and finally it was time.

When I went back up to the studio, I sat in the hallway with my book because the door was closed. A young woman with a very round but not over-baked belly came up the stairs. The doubt began to creep in. I puffed my tummy out just a tad. What the hell was I doing there? This class is for PREGNANT women. Really pregnant women. I don't even have a belly that can't be debated for bloat!

No, no, no. I started the mental coaching. We moved into the studio, and it began to look like it might just be me and little miss with the big belly. She was nice, friendly, and clearly new to the city. I was trying to breathe and just allow myself to be there while internally wondering where the hell my belly was.

Two more joined us; one who looked about to pop (great!) and another with the tiniest little bump I've ever seen. Awesome. Pre-natal yoga and I'm belliless. What the hell was I thinking?? *puff* I belong here, too! See!

The teacher was a little quirky but fun. She had us start out by saying our names, how far along we are, who we've "got in there", how we were feeling that week, and what we're afraid of. (What we're afraid of? Lady, we don't have the TIME.)

But something happened when she got to me. When I said my 8 weeks and 4 days (to 30 and 28 weeks), she cheered. She didn't blink. She didn't wonder. She didn't give any indication that she doubted my baby or my reason for being there. Well then...

We moved on and got started with some breathing. As soon as we started the poses, something magical happened, as I suspected it would. She told us to suck our babies in, push them out, point them at the door. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Push my baby forward. My baby. My baby was just as much of a baby as those bigger ones. There was no order for the real pregnant ladies to push their babies forward. She meant us, too.

I love this baby. I talk to this baby all the time, and I dream about this baby and the life we'll give him. I worry about Baby, but I also celebrate Baby. But this woman, this random woman who wouldn't have known we did IVF if I hadn't told her, told me what to do with my baby. She told me to pull my baby in. So I did.