Turn baby, turn!

Disco Inferno...

I'll stop with the cheesy pop references soon, but they're stuck in my head for now.

Needless to say, Badger Cub has not yet made an appearance. I was so convinced he would make an early break for it, I now feel as though I'm overdue at merely 37 weeks and two days. I finished work on Friday so I'm officially in the thumb twiddling stage. I think I'm going to slowly go insane.

As expected, last Tuesday's scan confirmed the breech position and I was referred straight through the the ECV clinic, run by a midwife with a well-known high success rate for turning babies. Unfortunately it didn't seem to be my day. They tried twice, once without drugs and a second time with intravenous salbutamol (relaxes the uterine muscles, gives horrendous palpitations & anxiety for 2-3 minutes), but no success.

Assuming Badger Cub has still not arrived, I'm back in for another ECV attempt this Tuesday with a male consultant with "big strong thumbs". Ooer... I'm guessing I'll come out feeling a bit beaten up, but it's worth a go.

My current plan is to go for vaginal breech birth. I've done a huge amount of research, talked to midwives both NHS and independent, and have agreement from my consultant. As I pointed out to her, they wouldn't usually schedule a c-section until 39 weeks, and with my history I may go into labour well before then anyway. It was at least reassuring to be told that Badger Cub is the best kind of breech - he's in a flexed position (knees bent almost in a lotus position, presenting bum first) and average size (likelihood of complication rise both for large and small babies).

I have to admit though that I am more than a little nervous.

Image courtesy of maya picture / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Obviously the photo is not of me. My tummy looks nowhere near as good as that...

It's the final countdown...

Dada-laaa-laaa dada-la-la-la... (cue cheesy eighties rock in my head).

I'm closing in on Badger Cub's due date now: 1st February. I'm also rather near the 36 and a half weeks that signalled Baby Badger's arrival - that would be 5th January - this Saturday!

It's been a tough few weeks. Because of the speed of Baby Badger's arrival, I've been told that the slightest indication that labour is on its way and I should head to hospital. That has meant two rather boring five hour stints in the Maternity Assessment Unit, being prodded, poked, monitored and (eurgh) probed. It luckily turned out that the first time was unusually strong Braxton Hicks and second time wasn't actually a membrane rupture.

Scans and the various prodding keep confirming that Badger Cub is stubbornly breech, although they haven't confirmed the actual presentation. I'm trying not to worry about that - as long he's not foot first I have faith that I can deliver without too much issue. I'm guessing that I will, once again, be referred to the ECV clinic to attempt to turn him. My next midwife appointment is on Friday, so I'd be referred to next Tuesday's clinic. This is feeling all too familiar from Baby Badger's final week in the womb - she arrived three days before I was scheduled for ECV clinic. That again tallies with 5th January being the big day. Hardy conclusive, but I just keep getting the feeling that he's coming out soon...

As a result, I am categorically done with being messed with. I'm feeling rebellious; belligerent. My consultant has finally acknowledged that I'm borderline on the gestational diabetes scale; that I only just fall under the risks associated with the "condition". The developmental stage of this pregnancy is done, with the remaining time down to putting down body fat ready for birth. My blood sugars have not indicated raging issues so I'm not worried about Badger Cub producing excessive insulin. The scan I had a couple of weeks ago clearly shows he is bang on average size, so I obviously haven't had raging sugar levels before I started monitoring. Quite frankly, the monitoring of sugar levels was making me miserable, so I've stopped. I'm still eating a low GI diet and reluctantly avoiding cakes, chocolate and the nice things in life, but I refuse to stab my fingers.

I'm sure at some point they'll rant at me; tell me that it's against medical advice. I've done my research; I'm an intelligent, educated women, and it's my choice to make.

Image: www.europetheband.com