What you do when you end up in the wrong postpartum class
9 CommentsTuesday, 3 April 2018 | Admin
Hit It. Or not.
10 weeks post partum and feeling grumpy and frumpy. Time to do something about it so did abit of research and found a class where you can take your baby! Great. Watched videos about the class on YouTube and signed up. Gulp.
Thought about buying some new snazzy (yes, ‘snazzy’ because I’m THAT cool) active gear but then considered not only the cost but the fact they may not even get worn. I ended up at Tesco buying some Lycra bootcuts for £8. They’ll be comfy when I’m watching telly & feeding the baby at least!
The morning of the class came. I got there early to psych myself up in the car. Practically sweating already from nerves and I’m not even in the class!
I pretty much talked myself out of it but then remembered speaking to my 7 year old son, Max, that day while he ate his breakfast. “You got this Mum”. Gulp. Can’t let him down. Or Lily, who was in the car looking up at me expectedly.
I took her out of the car and into her pram and walked in. Other mums around me were walking in and I judged how I’l thought I’d measure up. Was it too late to turn back?
Finally I’m inside the studio, 10 yoga mats with weights are laid down in a semi circle with little baby play gyms in the middle for the babies.
Lily stayed by my side in her car seat, she was the youngest there by a good few months so I wanted her close.
The instructor welcomes me with a smile. I smile back hiding my fear!
I can’t bring myself to look in the dance mirror which covers the entire wall so I focus on Lily.
The beat starts. Not so much music. Beats. This isn’t a nice postnatal aerobics class. It’s HIT. High intensity Training. Bloody hell. 45minutes to go - 45 seconds on and 15 seconds off to breathe. Yes, you’re allowed 15 seconds. A whole 15 seconds to breathe.
I’m about 3 minutes in and we’ve already covered burpees and mountain climbers. Seriously. Google them if you don’t know what they are. Literally by the time it’s taken me to get down on the mat, the other mums are back up and on the next movement.
7 minutes in and I am seriously considering walking out. But I don’t want to seem rude so I start thinking of other ways to get out asap.
I could faint dramatically- I used to do drama, I’m sure I could make it believable. No, that’s not fair on Lily - they might call 999. They might call Social Services. I’d probably get arrested for wasting time. No. Can’t do that.
By the time I’d come up with 3 alternative options I’d actually been in the class 30 minutes. Just do it, Hannah. 15 minutes left.
And then It was over. I enjoyed the ‘cool down’ which was basically just stretching your arms. Sorted - I had that nailed.
I made a quick exit after deciding I’m not quite ready for this level of intensity. I won’t be back. I’m proud at least for trying, but for now, I’m certainly more comfortable in a coffee house where my face is a relatively normal shade of pale and I can sit down. With no sweat patches.
Pre class - Yes I’m using my sons Avengers water bottle. Don’t judge me.
Facebook: Hannah Fouassier