Yesterday I tweeted this lovely sentiment:
Here’s the thing – 3rd trimester is kicking. my. butt. (while also making it 5 times larger. Go figure)
Heartburn, fatigue, shortness of breath, restless leg syndrome, hormones, constant hunger, pelvic pain, swollen fingers/feet/everything. It’s been fun.
Over the weekend, I attempted giving myself a pep talk. I’m only 31 weeks, so the end is still many weeks away and I can’t be a miserable wench the entire time. I tried boosting myself up with how blessed I am and how grateful I should be to experience all of this. I took long walks with the dog to clear my head. I ate Nutella and peanut butter sandwiches. Nothing was clearing the funk.
And then something very cool happened.
At our last ultrasound at 28 weeks, we saw that Charlotte was still in breech position. Obviously this sent me into a tailspin of research on c-section concerns, absurd yoga positions, and weird old wives tales about frozen vegetables on your stomach and flashlights up your hoo-hah. On the opposite end, my midwife wasn’t concerned in the least and said not to attempt anything until 36 weeks. Since then, I’ve been doing my best to be patient. A rare characteristic in me, for sure.
Sean and I are probably going to be ZOMGTerrible parents because we don’t usually talk to my stomach out loud. It just seems awkward. Poor Charlotte is going to come out thinking her name is Stanley and that she’s a “such a good puppy!” because talking to the dog like a human is completely normal for us. Oops. But last night I found myself home alone for a few hours and figured I’d give something a shot. So I turned off the TV and just enjoyed the silence for a few minutes before I spoke out loud with a hand on my belly. I very kindly asked Charlotte to flip around for me and even promised her that if she’d just flip head down, I’d let her kick me in the ribs all she wanted with no complaints. Speaking to your stomach is a weird and ridiculous thing. It just is.
Once I was done bartering with my fetus, I turned the TV back on and resumed my nightly routine of watching too much Bravo Network. Within a few minutes, Charlotte started squirming like crazy to the point where it was uncomfortable. I shrugged it off since we all know she has an affinity for the nightlife. However, after a few more movements, I realized these movements felt different and rushed upstairs to see if I could find her heart beat with the fetal doppler. (Um yep, we have one at home. Best $50 ever.) Instead of hearing it near my rib cage like all of my past times, her heartbeat is now several inches below my belly button. Homegirl FLIPPED!
Is it a coincidence? Probably. There are numerous scientific and anatomical reasons to explain it – most babies flip between 30 and 32 weeks as their heads get heavier and they start to run out of room and amniotic fluid. In fact, 96% of babies have flipped head down by 36 weeks, so it’s certainly not a miracle…and yet, it changed everything for me.
Emotionally, I felt an overwhelming connection to her. Her and I are a team and we just did something pretty cool together. That’s something you can’t reason away with logic.
Also, my daughter is clearly a super special advanced genius since she takes instruction so well as a mere fetus. Duh.
So I get it now. The aches and pains and weight gain and every other crap-tastic third trimester symptom is something I can handle and Charlotte reminded me of that. Who knew the best pep talk would come from someone that can’t even form words yet?
Apparently actions really do speak louder than words. Thanks, kiddo.
To use an old quote from my dad, we can do these remaining weeks standing on our head…which, in your case, turns out to be quite literal.
On an unrelated note: HAPPY 2nd WEDDING ANNIVERSARY TO MY HANDSOME HUSBAND!
“A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person”.
You’ll always be my person, dear.