I wish I could blame my recent absence from my blog on the success of my GTBOM experiment and thus my baby’s arrival into the outside world. Alas I cannot. I am still full to the brim of baby, (growing by the minute too I might add) and this little one seemingly has no intentions on making his debut. Ever.
I’m always promising to tell the truth, the whole truth and *nothing but the truth in this blog, so despite feeling very guilty for being the bearer of such pessimistic news I feel it is my duty to inform you that the pineapple theory, on which my previous GTBOM experiment was based, has proven to be an absolute load of bollocks (for want of a better word.)
I hate pissing on everyone’s fireworks and I so wanted the pineapple to do the trick . . . (Maybe I didn’t eat enough?! I don’t know.) I wanted to provide hope for my fellow waddling pregnant women, so I am very sorry, but do not fear, I shall keep trying :-)
As well as the constant remarks about my size and shape and the pats on the bump that I receive daily, (sometimes from complete strangers too) I am constantly asked the question, ’How long have you got to go?’ I loathe it, mainly because it is almost always followed by a comment that makes me really f’ing mad. (Note the need for the f word.) The comment in question?
‘Ah well, there’s nothing you can do about it anyway, baby will come when it’s ready.’
‘Baby will come when it’s ready??!!’ FFS. I know that these comments aren’t meant to drive me nuts (and it’s probably just my hormones that have me so riled anyway,) but this one in particular really grinds my gears. ‘Baby will come when it’s ready.’ Now call me what you will but I can’t help but think I am the parent, the birth-giver, the mother and therefore the boss. So I will decide when this baby comes out, thank you kindly.
Do I sound like a control freak?! I’m not normally. But boy does it wind me up. Even though I secretly suspect that they’re right, there is nothing I can do to determine when this baby comes, he will come when he’s ready. But you know what? Sometimes honesty isn’t always the best policy. And in my case they can save the truth, I’d much rather hear lies anyway. Gimme the old wives tales, a little light at the end of the tunnel and something to keep my mind busy and occupied whilst I play this waiting game, save your facts for someone who needs a kick when they’re down.
I have five days to go until I’m 38 weeks and therefore allowed to have my baby here at home. So I’m keeping my fingers (and legs, though that may be perhaps a little too much information for some) crossed that he will stay put until then. All experiments will officially recommence on the 4th June but until then I am trying to inject a little patience into the matter.
Whilst I am practising my patience I also have a another baby-related mission to accomplish. I need to turn him around. He’s not breech, (thank goodness) his head is indeed in the right place and ready for action, but instead of facing me, which is the optimal position for labour, he has his back to mine and all his limbs are front-facing. This, combined with my, ‘irritable uterus,’ (this is a real medical condition apparently—how typical of me to have it lol) is the main cause of all the Braxton Hicks contractions and other pains I’ve been getting.
I’ve heard I need to spend a considerable amount of time on-all-fours in order to get him to swing his little body round the right way. Alas can only think of two things that require one to be on all fours. The first is scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom floors, (not on your nelly mate) and the second is, well, you probably already know . . . (again, not on your nelly mate lol) ;-)
Yoga, swimming, laying on my left-hand side, swaying on my birth ball and sitting the wrong-way-round on my chair are all other activities I’m gonna try out, (of course will also welcome suggestions!)
If I can’t turn him I’m reckoning we’re in for one hell of a ride on the old labour train. It’s supposed to take double the time and be double the work giving birth to a back-to-back baby. Oh god help me . . . Perhaps I should go with the epidural after all ;-)
Wish me luck as I crawl around my house!
Love to all!
Steph x
