Lying down on the job

Another day, another doctor's appointment. Nothing unusual there. I am 37 weeks pregnant, after all. Luckily, since I am an out-of-towner, the Hospital is good about booking all my necessary appointments on the same day. So, last Thursday, I was scheduled for a meeting with my dietician at 11:30 a.m., my obstretician at 12:00 p.m. and for an ultrasound at 12:45 p.m. A tight schedule, but we made it to all three sans real problem.

As for the dietician--she had another patient in with her when we arrived and the patient only exited at 11:55, giving me a total of five minutes to meet with her and race across the hall to obstretics. Anyhoot--all is well with my glucose numbers. Keep doing what I'm doing and no need to see her again, unless, of course, I want to show off the baby. Sure. I made an empty promise that I would and bolted out the door.

Carole, the obstretics nurse, took me immediately upon arrival and set me up with the usual tests. Blood pressure, weight gain (no change--third time in a row, proving that the diet is doing it's thang) and then off to tracing for 20 minutes of fetal monitoring. Couldn't do the urine test as I explained I had an ultrasound in 45 and the technician would be pissed if I relieved myself by even the teensiest amount. She laughed and agreed. She didn't think I'd have time to meet with my doctor before the ultrasound, so I was to come back up after my appointment and continue with the clinic appointment. Sounded good.

Fetal monitoring went well. 20 minutes of reminiscing about B's delivery while we sat next door to the one she was born in. Hubby remembered (not fondly, I might add) the fold-out chair bed, while I remembered the boring walls and thought--not for the first time--that the Hospital should really invest in some paintings, artwork or inspirational posters for the walls. Kinda dull to stare at for 20 minutes.

Carole came back and unplugged me just before we had to jet downstairs. Ultrasound seemed to go fine. The technician wouldn't really give us any results from it, but my accountant husband observed the numbers she was inputting and through some calculations, determined that Baby #2 is about 6.6 lbs at the moment, which would put her around B's weight at birth time (8.8 lbs). All is normal and #2 is healthy as can be. The best news we could hope for, of course.

Then, the technician added, "she's transverse" but went on to talk about her beautiful little hands and how she seemed to be playing with her feet. We thought nothing of it.

Back upstairs to meet with the doctor. Idle chitchat out of the way, she got to business asking me questions about my other appointments. She was pleased with my glucose results and happy with the weight of the baby. Then I mentioned that the technician said she was transverse (which means she is lying sideways, instead of head-down as she had been the last two appointments) and the doctor said, "What? Well, that changes things."

She called downstairs for a verbal confirmation and then came back in to tell us the news. If the baby did not change position by next week (which is when she may begin gaining too much weight to shift back), we would have to book a planned C-section at 39 weeks. Goodie.

In the meantime, she made an appointment for me at a different hospital to have the baby "manually shifted." In other words, if I can't get this kid to change positions by 10:45 tomorrow, some doctor will manhandle my baby (and me, I suppose) from outside and twist her into position. Apparently, it is a pretty painful procedure (sometimes requiring an epidural itself) that has a 75% success rate. I just keep envisioning the world's most painful Indian sunburn on my ginormous abdomen and it's enough to keep me up at night. And, of course, even if the procedure works, #2 could still be a disagreeable little monkey and decide she prefers to be horizontal and shift back sideways or worse--upside down, making the C-section necessary. Yippee.

So, I was given four days to get #2 to co-operate. I can't tell if she's moved or not, so today, I will get back on all fours and wash the floors like a crazy person (the exercise recommended to get her moving). I hope it works. Although a C-section is hardly the end of the world, it's not the route I want to take if it can be avoided--and two epidurals in two weeks might be more than I can bear. The epidural just didn't work well with B, so it wasn't something I was counting on this time around. Sigh. This baby isn't even here yet and she's already lying down on the job....