Eviction Notice.

So, here we are. Today, I'm 38 weeks, 2 days pregnant. Sprout is still very stubbornly breech, with his butt and (if all the cervix-jabbing means what I think it means) one foot completely engaged in my pelvis. If I had to guess, I'm either dilating even more than I was last week, or he's dropped even further down, because today I'm in pain.

Yesterday was my final appointment with the midwife. Sprout's forcible removal is scheduled for October 25th. If you're counting, that's ten days from now. Ten. Days. Holy shit.

And that, of course, is assuming I don't go into labor on my own in the meantime.

Honestly, at this point I kind of hope I do. I'm over this. I know the longer he cooks in there, the better it is for him, and I'm not entirely ready for him to be on the outside yet, but I was really thinking it would be scheduled for Monday rather than Friday. Oh well.

On another note... the midwife was kind of bitchy to me yesterday. Enough so that I don't think I'll use her next time around (if I'm so lucky). It's possible I was feeling extra defensive, or maybe she was just having an off day, but she was kind of abrupt with me about not trying accupuncture to try to get Sprout to turn, and about stopping the chiropractic care as well. And I hate having to defend myself.

I just... I don't know. I feel like I've spent the last six weeks using all this time and energy to get this kid to do something he's obviously not inclined to do, rather than just enjoying my last few weeks of pregnancy. And yeah, the visits with the chiropractor have made me feel better, even if they're not helping the kiddo to turn, but it's three times a week, almost an hour from home, and at $20 per visit, I'm exhausting myself, and spending way more money than I feel comfortable with given the fact that the point of the visits is actually to avoid a c-section, which is probably inevitable at this point anyway.

And I just keep thinking about the stories I've read where so often, breech babies who refuse to turn have short cords, or cords wrapped around their necks, or something else that prevents them from turning safely. I don't want to keep feeling frustrated with him, or with my body. I really just want to rest and enjoy the rest of this as much as possible, and it pisses me off that my own midwife tries to guilt-trip me.

I trust him to turn if he wants to, if it's safe. And I trust that if it's not safe for him, he'll stay put so he makes it outside safely.

Also? I got a snarky comment about my weight. Again, from the midwife. Now, I realize my weight gain has been on the high end, and way outside what's recommended, but seriously. I'm eating healthy foods. I'm still moving around. Short of going on a diet, I don't know what she expects me to do. And it sucks to see the little 'obesity in pregnancy' on my diagnosis sheets every week. ugh.

So... whiny ranting aside, here are a couple of belly shots. You know, of my giant, obese self.