Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Turn Baby, Turn

Everything was going so well! Still is really, but baby is breech (just like her daddy was - this propensity for remaining upright must therefore come from him). I have 5 weeks to convince mini-me that upside down is awesome or we face being removed from the home birth program and having to deliver in hospital. Not cool tiny baby, not cool. From next week (32 weeks) it's less likely that she'll turn... at 30 weeks, 20% of babies are breech. At 32/33 weeks, 5% remain breech. so while there's still time, there's not much room in this mini womb palace I'm providing, and as she grows there will be less and less room which in turn will make it harder and harder to do the required somersault. 

So I'm trying not to stress (only one sleepless night with dreams of inverted babies so far) and I'm spending more time upside down to try to create more space for acrobatics. For the record, headstands are not a good idea after a bowl of rice crispies (can't get enough of those bad boys) and a pint of fizzy Ribena. Another good position is apparently bum-in-air-face-on-floor - I've got it down, it's elegant. 

C-section will, of course, be absolute last resort. But "they" like to recommend it for full term breech babies. Urgh. I will be gutted if I'm forced to wrench my baby into this world surrounded by bright lights and strangers and drugs. I'm not thick or naive, and of course we'll do what's safest when it comes to it. But our decision will be informed and I'll do my very best not to be pressured or scared into anything. 

Now we just have to think head-down thoughts and practice head-down positions and good posture. Failing that we'll get some acupuncture. Meanwhile, HN1 is supposed to talk to the bottom of my tummy to encourage her down. I'm also supposed to play music to the bottom and shine lights down there - curiosity could be a pre-birth thing. Right? I don't play music through headphones, we usually just rock out to the speakers; if she can hear HN1's voice she can certainly hear the thrash metal and grunge (and folk and acoustic) I play us.

What else has happened? Not too much really. MIL has very kindly knitted a couple of cardigans for the baby but I am (possibly overreacting) pretty upset that they're pink. She knows full well that I don't want to be inundated with pink crap, that I don't want this sexist gender stereotyping. She ASKED which colours I wanted, and I said rainbow - any colours (there are SO MANY COLOURS), but not exclusively pink. Why ask? What's the point? This is a recurring theme in our relationship. She will undermine me (and HN1) and the way we decide to bring up our child. I feel ridiculed for my lifestyle choices when it comes to food (vegan, and not a fussy one), I dread to think how they will react to however we decide to raise our child. Every time we talk it seems she's taken our nephews to MacDonald's again*. I'm still haunted by the "what happens at nana's stays at nana's" email subject line with pictures of the baby boys eating nutella on their breakfast cereal (sent to aunts and uncles but not to mum and dad). If their mum is fine with that, then groovy. What I am not OK with (in the least) is the secrecy and making it alright to "not tell mummy". Who ingrains that shit in a child? All it does is make them more vulnerable to other people saying "don't tell mummy, it will be our little secret". I want my child to feel they can tell me anything, and without repercussions from nana or the perv at the park. HN1 doesn't understand; he thinks I'm overreacting about the pink, but the pink is the tip of the iceberg for me. 

Urgh finished ranting. For now. But seriously, if we die I want my brother and his girlfriend to have custody of our baby (with help from my mum). Mum might not agree with everything I do but at least I trust that she'll respect our wishes when it comes to our baby.

*If you want to feed our child burgers, when she's old enough (and if she's not vegetarian), at least take her somewhere where they make them from REAL meat, and where they have actual nutritional content rather than pieces of cardboard, a host of chemicals, and a ton of salt and sugar. Fuck. MacDonald's isn't a treat, it's a punishment.

EDIT: I am overreacting, I need some perspective. Baby will be warm, fed, and loved so why sweat the small pink stuff? Clothes on her back are clothes on her back, she's blessed to have people care about her so much before she's even arrived who will make said clothes for her with their own hands. We'll cross the food bridge when we come to it. 

One day I'll write a nice blog for people to actually see and I'll omit the angry imp side of me. Until then, on this blog, I'll be as unreasonable as I like (within reason, I'm not a total bitch).

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