I am shitting myself.

I also spent WAY too much time and energy freaking out about things that turned out to be nothing. The list of complications (that turned out not to be complications at all) seems endless, from high blood pressure (which turned out to be nothing), a bladder infection (which turned out to be ligament pain), a potential detached placenta (ligament pain), a low-lying placenta (which has since moved out of the way), to an incompetent cervix (which is holding up really well – knock wood).

In the face of what I’ve been calling fake complications, a very real worry has sprouted up. My cervix is much shorter than it should be (at around 30 weeks, it was 1.2cm long when it should have been over 3cm, almost 4). A technician accidentally discovered it during a very invasive ultrasound for that low-lying placenta thing, and I was threatened with bed rest until the cervix specialist who my midwife consulted with basically said “Screw it! If you go into labour early, it’s not a big deal. Carry on!”

In that same ultrasound, I was told that Butterbean is in the frank breech position, which means that she’s chilling out in there, bum down, with her legs around her ears. This baby is already trouble! Normally, the baby’s position isn’t a HUGE cause for concern until around 37-40 weeks, but because my cervix is a ticking time bomb of incompetency, I could go into labour at any time. If the baby is in breech position when my water breaks, it basically means an automatic c-section (which I am 100% against).

SO, for the past month or so, Chase and I have been doing everything we can to get Butterbean to turn head-down. I’ve talked to my belly, played music to it, willed the baby to move, did yoga poses, laid for long stretches of time with my butt in the air, crawled on all fours, went to the chiropractor to get the Webster Technique done (7 adjustments later, and no change), had a shiatsu massage, had acupuncture, started taking homeopathic remedies (pulsatilla), pinched my baby toes… I’ve tried stuff I don’t even believe in to get this baby to move; I’ve done practically everything except bury an animal penis in my back yard (and I’d probably do that, too, if someone said it would help).

My midwife scheduled me an ECV (external cephalic version) for this Wednesday. Depending on who you talk to, an ECV is either a very good or very bad idea. Basically, it means that a doctor is going to poke and prod at my belly and push the baby into place. The risks include your water breaking, your baby’s heart rate dropping significantly, and your placenta detaching itself from your uterus (I was told this isn’t a real risk, but something they’re obligated to tell you because it’s HYPOTHETICALLY possible). A version is only successful part of the time, and even when it is, you run the risk of the baby turning bum-down again while you wait to go into labour.

It’s all very stressful. I’m convinced that, despite the fact that my cervix is so tiny, I will carry to term (40 weeks or later), and the baby will probably turn by itself in that time. That being said, if this pregnancy ends in surgery, I would kick myself in the butt if I knew that there was something I could have done to avoid it… Here’s hoping that the baby flips on her own soon, and stays flipped until she’s ready to make her escape.

Here’s a cheery ECV video:

And speaking of procrastination… I’m going to make (and post!) a video sometime this week to make up for my lack of blogging (also, because I am lazy and a spoken recap of the past 3 months seems much easier than a text one). I’m just waiting for some privacy so I don’t die of embarrassment while I tape it.

I love everything Whitney got, but this snowsuit is probably my very favourite. The ears kill me!

When I found out I was pregnant, Whit was the first person I told. I called her, crying, saying things like “How am I going to afford a baby?” and “Mom and dad are going to KILL me!” and she was all “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I am going to have a niece or nephew! Are you still going to name her after me?!”

At the risk of sounding like a sappy bastard, I am so happy that my baby is going to grow up knowing her aunt, who is probably my favourite person on earth (if Whitney ever reads this, she’s totally going to roll her eyes).

**Some of the yarn Whitney gave me has already been crafted into a baby blanket. You can check out the details here.

Today I am 24 weeks 2 days pregnant

In the meantime, I’ll just say that Butterbean continues to be pretty active. These past few days, she’s really kicked up the pace – so much so that you can now actually SEE her pushing against my stomach. Chase and I watched her move around last night, and this morning I spent too much time during a business meeting observing her pokes and prods as they rippled across my tummy. It is both very creepy, and very cool.

Today I am 23 weeks and 6 days pregnant

Chase and I take these pics every Friday when we have the time. Sometimes it’s late in the evening when I am dead tired and in my jim jams. Sometimes it’s early in the morning after I’ve just woken up. Sometimes, like in these photos, I am trying to keep it together while I gear up for a long 5-hour car ride and a visit with my family (after a 9-hour workday).

Photos taken on September 4, 2009.
Weight: 128 lbs

Today I am 23 weeks and 6 days pregnant

On my way to bed, I shot back “Me and my huge nipples need some sleep,” to which Chase replied “You mean you and your udders?”

Seriously. They’re gigantic now!

Actually, that was one of the first signs of my pregnancy. Within the first few weeks after conception, my nipples got puffier and I started getting a dark ring around each areola – almost like a perfect, circular bruise. Obviously, judging by my baby daddy’s reaction, they have grown since my first trimester. A lot.

I can’t believe they’re using this doll to train medical students about labour. In addition to being hella creepy, it represents everything I hate about hospitalized birth and makes me feel panicky about not going with a midwife (in truth, I tried to get a midwife but my love of my family doctor and my habit for procrastination meant I signed up too late and the good ladies can’t take me because other pregnant women who aren’t slackers require their services).

I am flabbergasted they are training medical students with a doll that doesn’t actually move or talk or think or have feelings or instincts of its own. It’s their perfect patient! And these new doctors are being taught that normal delivery happens while women are on their backs, which, in reality, is one of the hardest positions to labour in. I could go on and on about how wrong this teaching technique is!

My overwhelming feeling right now is that of disgust and fear – mostly at and for myself. Why didn’t I sign up for a midwife when I had the chance?!

Today, my doctor’s office called to tell me that they have an OBGYN for me and I have never been so terrified in my life. This guy had better greet me in birkenstocks with a handful of granola and say things like “I don’t believe in monitoring the baby’s heart rate for the duration of your labour unless there are signs of distress because being tied to a zillion machines is a hinderance to the birthing process” and “no one is going to confine you to a bed. Deliver this baby in whatever way is comfortable for you,” or so help me god, I’m going to fire him and make Chase catch this baby by himself in my tiny apartment bathtub!

Today I am 23 weeks and 4 days pregnant