A Mommy Story

This morning I had it confirmed that my second daughter is following in her big sister’s footsteps by being turned the wrong way. I think I can say for certain that we won’t be having a third child, simply because I see a tradition starting, and it’s one that I don’t want to continue.

The ultrasound tech found her head right away, well above my belly button, and like her earlier ultrasound months ago, she still has her feet up by her face most of the time. She flexed one leg a few times during the ultrasound, just to give me a kick, but then brought it right back to her head, demonstrating her Cirque du Soleil worthy flexibility.

We also know from this ultrasound that she’s likely to be a big kid. She’s estimated to be 5.5 pounds and 19.8″ long already, and I still have 7 weeks left. The tech asked if there was any way my due date could be off – no, I remember that cycle pretty clearly, and it was a perfect 28 day cycle. Of course, these kinds of estimates can be off by a lot, so I’m not putting a lot of faith in those numbers.

It was noted, however, that there is still plenty of space in there to give this baby a chance to turn. And the tech recommended a chiropractor she had heard of that has amazing success in convincing breech babies to turn head down using something known as the Webster technique. She said she has sent several of her clients to this doctor, and most have had success. That’s a good enough recommendation for me at this point.

I was relieved to get a glimpse at this baby and see that she is healthy and growing well. And that was what I tried to focus on when leaving the ultrasound office, because knowing she’s breech was really disappointing. I had wanted and planned for a natural birth with my first, but for her safety had to choose the c-section route. And now baby #2 is also breech and putting a damper on my hopes for a VBAC. Seriously, a 3% or less chance each time – with my ability to beat the odds, I can’t decide if that means I should try my luck in Vegas or not.

I feel like my body is faulty and I’m unable to carry a baby in the proper position. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution perfected how our babies are carried in our bodies and born, and somehow my body is the throwback. Sure, I probably shouldn’t blame my body, but it’s no less crazy than blaming the baby for not following the plan, or blaming my husband for bad genetics, since he was breech also.

There’s still time, and I’m planning on trying any safe measure to get her turned. At this point I think I’ll start offering her a car when she’s 16, or maybe a pony, if she’d just turn around.

Here are two pictures from the ultrasound today. The uneven area near her mouth on the left is the umbilical cord floating in front of her face.