The sun was setting. Our baby lay in her father's arms and I went out by the pool to work out. Since giving birth I've been hawking the parts of myself that want to exercise again. Healthy, or not? Some layers of me are back in school, around twelve years old, terrified of being fat and desperate to pacify body-image fuss. Others are younger than that, swinging on tree branches, endlessly upside down and passionately alive.

Prior to falling pregnant, I was gyming hard. Most of my clothes didn't fit me anymore because of three months of gym gains. I felt strong and devoted to carving a beautiful, agile, able body. Ignited by finding my limits and pushing beyond them, I was holding the vision of a future self; full. My trainer, a good friend of ours and South African bodybuilding champion declared me as his gym buddy because of how excited I was to push with him. I held him to his greatness too and we made it fun to attack the weights together.

Then pregnancy arrived, and any energy I had given to weights was swallowed by our little one. Unable to eat, I lost three kilos of muscle, and my motivation to exercise evaporated. Exhausted all the time, my short naps were hours long, daily. A layer of me lingered though, excited to one day get back to some kind of physical carving of self. I looked to a point in the future when I would find her again - the ignited go-getter solo me.

Recently I asked Nyaniso for time to work out each day, to find a gentle rhythm again. Yesterday I pulled on leggings and trainers, went into our garden and set a twenty minute timer. That's all. Not long. Put my headphones on, blared afrobeats and began to move. It felt freeing to squat and push-up again. A new internal pulse beat through me. I welcomed every bit of pant and burn. Smiled, feeling sexy and full of myself, remembering the good ol' days. The alarm went. Workout for the day finished. Welcome back to feel-good exercise, Yana!

I finished feeling like the greatest version of myself was planted into the earth of my life. Ready to grow. A future vision promised. Food was waiting to be dished up, and I had said just twenty minutes to Nyaniso, but the music took me. Light shone from the windows to the pool where I stretched and breathed in the simplicity of living and the many blessings of here and now. Legs wobbly, beats still blaring, a new way of moving unlocked in me. I found an old friend. She lives in a place you can only reach through dance. You can only speak to her whilst dancing. Her wisdom is that of an ancient bird and she soothes every wound there is. I found and flew with her for a few more songs. Dancing.

My husband sat inside, little one snuggled to his chest as he watched YouTube videos. I felt happy, to connect to such a deep and permanent part of myself. Not just pre-pregnancy gym-goer Yana, but also little cartwheeling Yana too. The me who was always upside down, obsessed over gymnasts, contortionists, capoeiristas and dancers. Tonight I reconnected with the body I have always lived in. To be with it - wholly. Only me, no child inside.

Senses spiked.

I walked inside and washed the sweat from me. Dished up food from the stove for us to eat together. My heart beat bigger. Food scrummier. Daughter's eyes wider. Home hugged me tighter. Husband more handsome. Being more vibrant. Mind at peace.

Today I've been feeling yummy, reveling in the aftermath of coming home this way. Itty-bitty workouts are a need and I'm cheering wildly for the wisdom, grace and potential of this beautiful body I'm in. Hey, you!