Prenatal Yoga

Last night, Cletus and I went for our first prenatal yoga class.

For the record, I've been doing yoga on-and-off since I was in law school a billion years ago, so I thought this would be no big deal. I've done pretty much every kind of yoga, from the kinds with gentle movements and focusing on breathing, to the kind where you move every second in a hot room and get more of a cardio workout than a good stretch. I like yoga -- or at least I think I do.

Anyway, last night's prenatal yoga class was a surprise to me in many ways.

The first was that, in a big metro area filled with lawyers and other professionals, I did not really think that 36 was old to be having a baby, despite what all the books say, and despite the fact that my doctors keep gently reminding me that I'm "high risk." Last night, I got the message. I was positively geriatric compared to most of the women in the class -- and many of them were on baby #2 or baby #3. Maybe it's because the old ladies like me work too much to go to prenatal yoga. Sigh.

Second, I realized once again that I am positively huge for fifteen weeks. Gigantic.

Third, and perhaps worst, I realized that I am now completely inflexible. Positions that I could do with no problem a few months ago are now completely outside my range of motion. My old bones just do not want to move.

So, when L came to pick us up, he asked how the class went. I told him I hated it, which is an exaggeration. I really did not enjoy myself. But I'm going to keep going, because I think it's good for Cletus.