in the club

I try and get to a prenatal yoga class on Thursday nights.  I say "try" because I think I'd be optimistic if I said I got there 50% of the time, but whatever.  It's the thought that counts.  

So I went this Thursday.  There were four girls there including me, and we were 23 weeks, 24 weeks, 30 weeks, and 35 weeks.  We all were sporting these cute little bumps.  As we practiced our deep frog squats with our backs at the wall, facing each other into the room, hands in anjali mudra at heart center, and practicing kegels at the same time, we were talking.  The two ladies with children and the instructor were talking about past births.  The two of us first timers were talking about birth  hopes and plans.  

And as I sat there in this circle of women, I felt, for the first time, like a part of this club.  Like I really belonged here with them.  That we could bond over discussions of our pereniums and cervixes.  And along with it a more primal feeling - that I was now joining the billions upon billions of human women who, throughout history, sat in circles, talking about birth stories and birth hopes.

And now I was in their club.

Why now?  Why, randomly, at 24 weeks?  I have been going to the yoga class (with my flat-ish stomach) since I was 5 weeks along.  I haven't passed a milestone or rite of passage, like birth.  

But I guess, having the bump has made me prouder, more aware, and more constantly conscious that yes, this is real, there is a small person - a separate being - there inside of me.  It hasn't seemed real until now.  Despite all the kicks in the bladder.