Josa’s pregnancy diary - weeks 22-24

I have started going to pregnancy yoga on Monday afternoons. Surrounded by women with bumps of various sizes, I begin to come to terms for the first time with being pregnant, publicly. Previously it was quite a private business. It feels good to exchange ideas about pregnancy. I am relieved to see that some of the mothers look at least as old as me, if not older.

The best thing about the yoga is the breathing – you are forced to think about pulling the breath deeply into your lungs and letting it out slowly, all the way through the hour and a half session. Also, the stretching – I always feel terrific afterwards, however ghastly I felt before. We are reminded forcibly of the need for pelvic floor exercises – which we do in unison. Sort of synchronised squeezing. Lolly Stirk, the teacher is kind and empathetic, and full of good practical advice.

At the end of the session a new mother comes in with her tiny boy. He is a couple of weeks old, and very alert – gazing about with boot-button eyes. I draw near, fascinated – I have forgotten so much. I touch his little hand. My situation becomes more real to me. With any luck, next year I might be one of these proud new mothers with their tales of birth. I won’t be like this little fellow’s mum though – she’s as slim as a reed in cream coloured, flat-fronted trousers. Where did she keep that baby?

See Anastasia's pregnancy diary for week 22.