PARRUSSELL: Unstable Lie

What a strange, emotional and surprisingly uneventful week this has been! At my weekly checkup last Monday, we found out that baby had once again changed positions to a diagonal, head up under my rib position and was no longer head down - a problem once you are full term. Apparently this is more comfortable for baby; not so much for this Mommy, however. Any baby still able to move around and failing to engage in the pelvis head down by 37 weeks is evidently termed "naughty baby" by the nursing staff and has an "Unstable Lie" (I'm sure this is the more medically accepted term). Whatever you want to call it, naughty or unstable, I left my appointment, Monday, a bit dazed and with a few unsettling options.

1. Schedule a Version Procedure (the doctor attempts to manually move baby into position - done at the hospital - and hope it's successful and labor follows normally, soon after);

2. Schedule a C-Section because baby isn't likely to turn around again with such little room to move; or schedule it after trying Option 1, in the event that Option 1 is unsuccessful.

Steve and I decided on Option 1 and a Version Procedure was scheduled for Thursday morning. We hoped for the best possible scenario and prepared for the worst (the unlikely event that the procedure turned into an emergency C-Section that day).

Turns out we got an even better outcome than our best possible scenario. Moments after I was admitted, it was determined that our little one had already made it's own descent and was once again head down (although still not engaged in my pelvis)! Instead of drugs, I was given juice; and instead of enduring what was described as a very unpleasant procedure to move the baby, I was given a warm blanket, monitored to confirm that baby was indeed happy and healthy and sent home.

The good news is the baby was still able to move around on its own. The bad news is that the baby is still able to move around on its own! Evidently there is still plenty of room in my womb (hard to believe as I glance down and see nothing beyond the massive orbit protruding from what I once proudly called my toned abdominal muscles and flat stomach). I guess Peyton laid the ground work for stretching out this little baby home and his larger than normal proportions have given baby #2 a wealth of space in which to perform gymnastic moves well into week 39 of this pregnancy. We cross our fingers that baby will settle into its head down position and make its entrance into our more permanent home and hearts soon.

This fabulous, yet anticlimactic, turn of events was a bit of a shock and has left me feeling more tired than I have in a long time and in a bit of dispair. A small part of me had opened the door and welcomed the prospect of a C-Section; a quick means to an end (not for the pregnancy or baby) for this back pain.

In the meantime, I'm enduring as best I can the worsening back pain and the disabling side affects it has had on me. I can hardly walk at all and have spent the past several days mostly immobile and relying on help to care for Peyton. Steve and I put our faith in nature and have always felt that the least amount of intervention during labor is best for us. That philosophy worked for Peyton's delivery. It's been 3+ weeks since the back pain began and I find myself questioning my faith in my body to do what it needs to do. I'm doubting the strength of my mind and body right now and wonder how much more pain I can take. Induction and epidural have come up in several conversations lately. Why is faith so much easier to have when everything is going along as planned?

On a positive note, Peyton is a remarkably compassionate and helpful little fella. Sure, he's having a hard time adjusting to my lack of participation in his life, as well as sensing the inevitable change of our household is near, so am I. He's woken me up several mornings this week, peeled the covers back over my belly, to check, "Is the baby still in your tummy, Mommy?" He's been a little less than chipper and easy-going, than I'm use to and more aggressive than I've ever seen him. But, then again, so am I. Still, there are those magic moments where he releases the wrestle hold he has on my leg and instead rubs my back with the most gentle hands and tells me, "I'll take good care of you, Mommy." He also is thrilled about hard work and willingly helps, often even initiating the projects he takes on:

Weeding