In case anyone missed the news, I'm pregnant. 32 weeks pregnant, which looks about 65weeks pregnant in "third pregnancy years". Yesterday Claire asked me if my tummy would get even bigger. When I said yes her eyes got really wide and she said, "How?". A valid question, I must admit.
Note: the above photo was taken by Claire (which is why I look like a giant) and is being posted at her request.
It's hard to believe that in eight weeks we'll be holding a new Bramlett girl. I think about her all the time, wondering who she'll look like, what her personality will be like, whether she'll be a good sleeper, and most pressing of all: will she flip herself over before delivery?
Yes, friends, my third baby has decided to go her own way and has been in a breech position for a while now. Her little coconut head is lodged firmly under my rib cage and when she kicks, I fear that a foot might come out. Although there is still a decent chance she might flip over, she seems all too comfortable right where she is. I can't blame her for wanting to stay in the upright position but from a purely selfish perspective, this complicates things.
A breech baby equals a c-section. I've never had a c-section before, or any other surgery for that matter, so I'm a little freaked out at the idea. Plus, I've seen a c-section delivery on Discovery channel and I'm pretty sure they laid the poor woman's intestines right there on the delivery table (I could be wrong about this part, as I watched most of the show in horror with my hands over my eyes).
If she stays in the breech position, my doctor will attempt to flip her manually sometime in December. This involves a great deal of pushing on the outside of the belly and has been described to me as feeling like an "Indian burn on your insides." What's not to love about the sound of that?
Whether she flips or not, I know that I'll be holding my sweet precious in less than two months and that is almost enough to calm me down about all this. Almost.