So we are now into our final few days of the TTC, four of which are pre and post natal yoga. Another teacher – Tatiana, a Ukrainian from Jordan – has come to take the asana part, with Martinet still the theory imparter.

This a.m we were instructed to bring an extra t-shirt or scarf of some kind to class, to act as our own baby bump. I had a pair of trackies in my hand, when on my way out of my room my eyes caught Fleur the cauliflower soft toy on my bed. I had a quick try of her up the top, and she proved an ideal fake foetus.

And it was hilarious in actual asanas, all 18 of us now “expecting”. We were told to try and really connect with our ballooned bellies, to work out how to suss space and such. By the end of the two hours, I truly was so in tune I almost thought I was six months gone; Oh no, that’s in the way of my baby, I thought more than once or twice, before I remembered duff I ’twas not up.

Plus there were a lot of premature births, us having tassels and sleeves making their way south as we bent and contorted and what not. I was doing some sit ups with Fleur chilling below me on my mat, and Sabina fell about laughing that it looked like I had been in the throes of labour (I didn’t realise The Pedaller was of Brassicaceae ancestry). (For those who you who didn’t catch on there, the Brassicaceae is the family the cauliflower stems – literally – from). Some stomachs were extremely misshapen, and one of the girls seemed to be carrying her tot in her titty area. It was greatly amusing.

Awkward moment I encountered: one of the Chinese woman went up to the bigger lass of the group and patted her stomach, saying “pillow baby”.

“I’ve actually already taken my cushion out,” the lass replied.

Luckily she’s a good sort who didn’t take it to heart.

And tonight’s class was absolutely Poppy ideal. So many hip openers, hamstring stretches, legs up the wall and shavasana lying on our left sides with a pillow between our legs – as I sleep every night. I think upon heading home to NZ I’m going to have to hustle Fleur back up my tee and pretend I’m in my second trimester at a studio where I am unknown.

Plus, you still really get your sweat going. As Martinet says, “pregnant women aren’t sick women”, so while the classes do take into account postures that are potentially harming to the growing bud, they’re still pretty full on.

I was right next to Tatiana and I must say, I think I have a little girl crush. She’s just lovely. She asked questions about info we were taught today and every single time I jumped upon it to answer first – and always correctly. When she gave me a little mini applause I shone out with pride.

And one thing she said that I absolutely fizzed on: in the first downward dog, instead of saying “walk it out” or “move”, she instructed, “walk your dog”.

I am going to incorporate the phrase in my own classes most definitely.

(Just an insertation: why only lie on the left when pregnant? Well, we all have this vein called the inferior vena cava; it carries deoxygenated blood from the lower half of the body to the right atrium of the heart. When bearing a neonate and reclining either on the back or right side, the weight of the baby presses on this said vein and can cause the woman to faint. Interesting, no?).

A really lovely day with a lot learnt. Only two downsides: firstly, I had to watch a baby be born (in a video, not in person I shall clarify) which hammered home the idea that the exit point really is far too small. Secondly: upon walking up the driveway from the hotel to hustle a coco h20, I stepped right in a recently deposited pile of cow shit. To make matters worse, my Birks that the lad glued have started to talk again, so faeces went right in between the base and sole. It took a lot of water and toilet paper to eradicate the crap.

And pre natal again tomorrow. Very ready for another belly full.

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