Yogi Barely

I said I was going to do it and now I have really done it.

At least, I think.

Last Monday I tried yoga for the first time.  Granted, it was just prenatal yoga, but it’s a start.  What made it more fun was that I had another preggo-buddy, Rachel, to join me on this new endeavor.

Alas, like most of my journeys, it had some bumps along the way.

Let me take you back briefly to one week earlier, the day we were SUPPOSED to start our yoga adventure.

Back at my doctor’s office, I was given a sheet listing all the classes I could take to prepare for childbirth, one of which listed the prenatal yoga class.  I called the number listed to find out about rates and other info, and was lead to a generic hospital office where I left a message.  When they finally called me back, they left me a message with the name and phone number of the class instructor, but explained that I could simply arrive a little early to the class and sign up then.

I texted my friend Rachel and we made a plan to meet outside the hospital before going in together.  As I waited for her, two worries suddenly popped in my brain:  I only had my debit card to pay for the class and I forgot to bring my own yoga mat.  Meanwhile, Rachel was dealing with worries of her own.  She had gotten mired in traffic jam after traffic jam and let me know she was running late.  By the time she arrived it was a few minutes after 6, but we decided to go for it, anyway.

We crept quietly to the door and slowly opened it, fearing we would disturb and a darkly lit class already in progress.  Instead, we found…nothing.  The room was still set up with desks and chairs in the way, but no soothing music was heard, nor yoga enthusiast or instructor found.  I decided to call the instructor directly to find out if she was still coming.

“No, I don’t hold classes for less than two people and both of my people canceled.  The hospital should’ve told you that,” she explained.  “But we can have you come next Monday.”  We gave her our information and Rachel and I agreed to meet the following Monday.  I was actually relieved; I got a second chance to be more prepared.

The week dragged on but at long last, Monday arrived (incidentally, I can’t remember the last time I was looking forward to a Monday).  I changed into my workout clothes at work and, with cash and yoga mat in hand, met up with Rachel at the hospital. 

I was pretty pumped.  For years, I have seen gorgeous girls in tight black pants walking around, practically advertising yoga programs with each confident stride, and I had heard about how great yoga was for both body AND mind.  I had wanted to try it for so long, and now, I was taking my first steps towards my goal.

We walked into the same room we had one week earlier, but this time it had changed…a little.  The desks and chairs were still there, but pushed mostly out of the way.  One girl was already there setting up her mat and putting her things away.  She was clearly into her third trimester, and had that genuine glow everyone talks about.  We introduced ourselves and set up our mats as well.

The instructor greeted us all and as we all took our chairs and chatted nonchalantly, the door opened again.  In walked one of those girls I always thought of when I pictured a yoga-goer.  She was tall and lean, with perfectly long blond hair, long legs, tight little butt, and the cutest little pregnant belly I had ever seen.  She was dressed in immaculate and fashionable workout clothes that perfectly carved out her shape.  She looked like an ad for a pregnancy-workout DVD.  I looked down at my own shabby faded tank top and barely-fitting pre-pregnancy yoga pants. I would’ve hated her easily if she hadn’t been so infuriatingly friendly.

At last, the class began.  We started with some breathing exercises to relax our muscles.  Unfortunately, my little baby boy wasn’t interested in feeling relaxed.  He was apparently attending a baby kickboxing class in my uterus.  With every cleansing breath I took, I could feel him wallop my inside.

“Deep breath iiiin...” cooed the instructor.

Pow, went the baby.

“Cleansing breath oooout,” sighed the instructor.

Slam, went the baby.  C’mon, kid, work with me here, I thought, hoping my mental telepathy would travel umbilically.

After that, we finally got to do some poses.  As I tried to concentrate on my breathing while holding a pose, the soothing music began to include Indian-like chants.  It was nice, but my mind immediately changed from its place of serenity to suddenly thinking, man I could go for some samosas and chicken tikka masala…mmm…

Not exactly the deep thoughts I was hoping to have.  And some of these poses really required some deep introspection to figure out how to do them, especially when it looked like all we were doing was just standing there.

“Ok, now I want you to think about expanding yourself.  Widening yourself and expand.  Expaaand,” the instructor said.  I watched her closely to see the slightest muscle on her twitch, giving me some clue as to what I was supposed to be doing.  I looked over at Rachel who was in front of me and the other two girls.  They too looked like they were just standing there. 

I figured she was just using the word to encourage more breathing, but as we bent down into another pose, she said it again.

“And think about opening yourself up…expand…” she said quietly.  Hey, lady, this is what got us all in this trouble in the first place, am I right?  I thought to myself with a smirk. 

At the end, she had us get on the floor and lay on our sides.  She told us to close our eyes, concentrating on our breaths as we let our bodies collapse.  I snuck a peek at everyone else, once again confused by what exactly we were working out.  Rachel had moved from her side to her back, and had her eyes closed.  She looked totally relaxed.  I glanced over at the other two girls.  The model-like girl was in the same position as me, looking lovely in her limp state.  The more heavily pregnant girl had gotten up and taken a chair instead.  I didn’t know what else to do, so I just closed my eyes and continued to lie on the floor.

At the conclusion of the class, we all got up and shook off our “pose”.  I did feel more relaxed, for sure.  But I was lacking that nice, exhausted feeling I am used to getting from a typical work out.  Rachel and I said our goodbyes to the teacher and other two girls as we walked out to our cars.

As soon as we were clear of the hospital, we both blurted out our confusion over some of the poses. 

“How exactly do you ‘expand’?” Rachel asked.

“Was that last movement basically ‘nap time’?” I wondered.

We agreed that we enjoyed it for the most part though, and decided to go back again soon.  I’m not ready to give up on it just yet.  I’m hoping to achieve that combination of clarity and fitness that so many yogis enjoy.  But maybe next time, I’ll bring a pillow as well.