Week 32! Already four and a half pounds (the baby- I weight a biiiiiit more), blood pressure great for both mom n’ kid, extremely active baby with a superb heart rate and…OH YES, the kid is standing straight up, a.k.a. breech, a.k.a., I’m gonna need that part of my lung and ribcage back. We had evidence of this acrobatic acumen with our latest ultrasound- our child, on its belly, ankles up to the forehead, hands pushing on its face. Impressive, uncomfortable and kickier than a donkey. Nice trifecta. The baby is currently in a position called ‘frank breech’ (“Frankly, your kid is breech.”) This is no big deal medically, excepting the fact that if the Bitsy doesn’t turn on its own (15% chance) my team of doctors will try to TURN THE BABY at 37 weeks (40% chance and um, ow) and if nothing happens, c-section at 39 weeks. The week of P.J.’s birthday and perhaps on the day of his lucky 27. I smell conspiracy. (And bacon. Who’s cooking bacon at 1pm? Halfsies!)
I’ve gotten some pretty helpful advice for “turning the child” and some even includes doing it “naturally.” An example of “natural?” Leaning an IRONING BOARD against a couch and propping myself upside down on it- something I couldn’t have done even had I NOT been entering my 8th month of pregnancy, mind you- and letting the child decide that s/he doesn’t care for that position any longer. What could be more natural? How about frozen peas on the head? (The baby’s, not mine.) Perhaps clothespins attached to the outside of my pinky toes? Acupuncture, acupressure, prenatal massage, jiu jitsu (not really) and my personal favorite: getting in a pool (okie doke! Where is this magical pool?) and doing a HANDSTAND. Never mind the fact that I also cannot do a handstand, pregnant or not, in water or otherwise, and my balance is already atrocious. Do I want to flip this child or terrify it into submission? Why not just go on a roller coaster? Enter a chili pepper-eating contest? Make a funny paper hat and place it in a scrapbook? Bizarre suggestions all, but more importantly- holistic. (And thanks, Kat, for sending me a website solely for the reason you commented- “They used the word “foetal.”) Now, I know that a c-section wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but…I’ve read Macbeth. I know how this kinda thing turns out. (Gettin’ a little literary up in here, no?)
But more importantly- last night was week 2 of Great Expectations. Epidural Night! (I asked people if it was anything like Taco Night- which I LOVE- and all I got for my trouble was a resounding “Ah, no.”) And that’s fine. Because it wasn’t.
It was BETTER!
We began with a ten second clip from the movie ‘Nine months” with Hugh Grant and Julianne Moore, in which Grant takes Moore to the hospital to have her baby. (“My water broke!” “Well, we’ll get you another one!”) Hijinks ensued, Robin Williams, M.D., produced an epidural needle the size of a small pachyderm and Julianne Moore’s wheelchair got pushed down the hall and into an open elevator.
“That’s how NOT to go into labor,” our instructing R.N. told us.
I am not even joking.
We then saw a video with proper birthing positions (upright, seated, side-lying) to alleviate different kinds of labor pains. And the headbands! Ooh boy, last week’s headbands had NOTHING on the bespangled creations this week, the kind that said “Out of my way, hair (and husbands), I GOT THIS ONE.” And then there was a third video- obviously staged, as the best scene came when a ‘laboring mom’ huffed and screamed and sweated for a good while, looked up demurely and said “I think I’d like an epidural,” and then when the attending physician came by, asked “Will it hurt?” Well, no more than the water buffalo you were apparently trying to dislodge! And then P.J.’s favorite part; after the placement of the epidural, the doctor and patient smiled at each other, the doctor signed off on a chart, left the room, LOOKED UP AT THE CAMERA and, still smiling, assured us “She’ll be fine.” Please continue to walk us through this hard-hitting slice of reality television! Is this Sesame Street? Can we now see a llama getting its teeth cleaned?
And lest you think that the husbands were not represented as well this week- oh no- we had a guy whose mustache would put Magnum, P.I.’s to shame who continuously pushed his wife’s bangs out of her face (for she did not have a headband) and muttered like Rain Man “You’re doing good. You’re doing real good.” (She asked for the epidural reeeally early on.)
Best yet, we got to practice what we saw! Balancing on yoga balls, bent over chairs, on all fours and purring like cats (okay, so she didn’t SAY to purr like cats) and getting to breathe deeply while looking in each others’ eyes. Turns out, if I hafta breathe deeply and look into P.J.’s eyes during labor, it may not work out. He is really, really funny. Even if (and might I add- especially) when he is TRYING to be SERIOUS. And when he had to massage out my “back labor,” he really went for the gold. He destroyed that contraction. Also a hip joint. But he was SERIOUS.
They also snuck in a video about c-sections, which was NOT COOL TO DO. If I have to get a c-section (no) I’m fairly certain all I have to do is show up. The less I know about that needle and the clamps FOR MY SKIN the better. In fact, let’s pretend we didn’t see what happens on the other side of the curtain, lalalalalalala. (This goes double for episiotomies, bodily fluids and functions during labor, and gowns that fail to cover one’s body adequately- none of this EVER happened.) Found out video taping during labor isn’t allowed- aw, shucks!- but we’re allowed to take as many pictures of our child AFTER the fact as we’d like. Thanks! You’re sure we don’t have to sign a waiver?
I think that getting pregnant is the best thing that has EVER happened to my writing career. Lamaze class is coming in at a close second. I plan to live-blog my labor and delivery. Or maybe I’ll let P.J., if he’s not too busy.
I’ll bring a backup headband, just in case.
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