I finally went to my first prenatal yoga class tonight, and it was, different. Before this yoga experience I had participated in a year of heated, power-vinyassa flow. I'd leave every class dripping in sweat and aching from my fingers to my toes.
Tonight, was as they said, gentle. The holds were long and slow. The class gradually moved from one pose to the next. And it was. Air-conditioned.
Most of the women in the class seemed at ease, at peace, breathing deeply. I was fidgeting, my mind racing. I kept telling myself that this was good, this is what I need, but my competitive spirit bubbled up with every calming mantra.
I suppose one of the hardest things about pregnancy is slowing down. I have one speed: go. Slow isn't even in my vocabulary. I'm the one cleaning the gutters, lugging 50 pound bags of wood pellets, lifting weights 5 times a week, all the while keeping up a spotless home, doing loads of laundry and cooking 3 nutritious meals a day. It is in doing those things that I feel the most me.
I know there is a lesson in all of this. That I'll be begging for time to slow down once baby Weeks gets here. That I'll relish practicing my deep breathing. That I'll be begging for someone to make my dinner. With all of that in mind, I'm going to sign up for the 6-week prenatal class that begins on the 18th. I'm hoping to improve myself, I'm hoping to slow down. And who knows - maybe I'll even like it.