My baby is beautiful

Harriet had an awful day today.

Cranky all day. Crying needlessly. Just really testy. 

Didn’t want to play. Didn’t want tumny time. Screamed to be fed, screamed on the boob. Didn’t want to be held. Didn’t want to be put down. I mean friggen hell kid you’re either held or you’re not held…please pick one!

The situation was made worse by the fact I currently have a migraine and her constant shrieking was driving me up the wall.

Don’t get me wrong I absolutely adore her and everything about being a mama. But I just needed someone with me today to help out a little when the throbbing in my head became too much. 

So this afternoon when my mother said she was going to do the grocery shopping, I said I’d come too because quite honestly I couldn’t be alone with the crying for a few hours. Not with my head pounding like it was.

So my mother went into the supermarket and I sat outside to wait. Harriet was sitting on my lap wrapped up in a blanket to ward off the last remnants of the winter chill. 

Harriet was finally in a good mood. Alert, cooing, looking around at everything. 

She loves to be in the thick of things. She’s not a laid back or easy-going baby, she enjoys (read: demands) constant stimulation. 

After a few minutes an older lady approached. She was maybe late 50s, with her grown up daughter beside her.

“Oh what a beautiful baby!” she gushed loudly. “Such a gorgeous, beautiful baby!”

And then she rushed over and started patting the big black dog that was tied to the metal leg of the bench I was sitting on. She had been talking about the dog the entire time.

Suddenly she noticed me.

“Oh how awkward,” she said. “You probably thought I meant your baby was beautiful. You probably thought I was talking about your baby.”

Not knowing what else to do I simply smiled at her. I assumed now that she’d put us both in this weird situation she would at least acknowledge Harriet.

I knew all this lady needed to do was make eye contact with Harriet and she would melt into smiles and giggles. She was certainly in the mood for it.

But what happened was entirely the opposite.

“Well that’s just very sad for you and also sad for your baby. I feel bad for you.” the lady simply said before her daughter sniggered and they both walked away laughing.

At first the incident meant nothing to me and I brushed it off. But it’s been 12 hours and now it’s really starting to eat away at me.

The truth is I don’t feel bad for myself, I feel bad for my baby. 

She deserved a little bit of attention from that old lady. Even a quarter of the attention the dog was given. She deserved it because she’s beautiful too.

She deserved it because after a shit of a day she was finally in a good mood and she would have loved the interaction.

She deserved it because all babies are beautiful and even though she couldn’t understand, I know one day she will. And I don’t ever want her to feel like she isn’t worthy of affection.

She deserved it because she gets loved all over by her mama and her nanna but her father barely looks in her direction and my baby deserves all the attention she can get.

She is my miracle. She’s stronger than that old lady will ever know. Strong enough to manage an impossible conception. Strong enough to survive 9 months in a uterus filled with fibroids. Strong enough to cope during her first days, all alone without her mummy’s touch because she was stuck in an incubator on oxygen. 

My miracle baby was shunned today outside a supermarket. I can’t believe I even have to write those words.

And yes it all means nothing. That old lady probably doesn’t like babies and I’m still full of hormones that make me a blubbering mess. I’m aware that I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. 

But I’ll be damned if anybody ever makes my kid feel like she isn’t beautiful when I’m around to prevent it.

My baby is a beautiful, special little miracle. End of story. 

Actually that’s not the end of the story…

When that lady leaned down to pat the big black dog today it snapped at her. Well ain’t that karma!

My Harriet – I am so proud of you and your fierce, sassy little attitude. Don’t ever let anybody make you feel unworthy of attention or affection. You’re my little superstar. Shine brightly always.

Sadie xx

I’m still here (and photos!)

Wowzers. Sorry for being away so long.

Motherhood (particularly as a single mum) has knocked me around very badly. I truly never expected it to be this hard. 

I’ve been battling so many issues that I never thought I’d have to deal with and the anxiety is incredible. I won’t even bother mentioning Harriet’s traumatic birth because I’ll save that for a different post but I’m sure you’ll want some highlights from the past two months…

For starters I’ve got massive breastfeeding problems – I’ve had mastitis six times already. Three times required antibiotics and one was so bad I needed hospitalization. 

The constant antibiotics gave me nipple thrush which is treatment resistent and has now gotten into my milk ducts. It has started travelling to other parts of my body and I now have it in my throat and mouth too.

It means my let-downs feel like someone is pouring acid on my chest and every time Harriet feeds I cry from pain. They keep treating me but it’s not improving.

Hmm what else? Oh yes. James had a total break-down when Harriet was a couple of weeks old and his treatment of me became so terrible even he finally realised he had a massive problem. So I finally got him to a doctor’s clinic and on antidepressants. 

Again, this is a whole other post for another time but let’s just say he has made adjusting to parenthood ten times harder than it should be. I felt like I was raising two children.

I’ve also been struggling massively with anxiety. I’m paranoid Harriet is going to die in her sleep, paranoid she hates me, paranoid I’m going to die and leave her to be raised by James and paranoid she isn’t hitting her milestones or something is wrong with her.

For the first few weeks I didn’t bond with her at all. I would cry and scream and tell my mother something was wrong with me. I needed so badly to protect her and keep her alive but at the same time felt no affection for her. 

The doctor suspects it was due to the fact we were separated straight away when she was born and I didn’t really see her for the first few days so we had no initial skin to skin etc. It was terrifying and the moment the love finally hit me was just utter relief. 

Oh and it’s worth mentioning once again that my ex got remarried just to add to all the fun.

Honestly I have so many half written posts to eventually finish and publish. And the longer I leave it the harder it will be to catch up and say everything I want to say. Except right now I’m not strong enough and I don’t have the energy.

But I swear it’s not all bad! Harriet is 9 weeks old now and time is flying so I thought I’d at least post some photos to see you all through until I can actually post something substantial. And maybe some of the photos will speak for themselves.

All I can say is that she is honestly my whole world. She is my reason for existing. And she is absolutely thriving. She is in the 85th percentile for height and weight and a very smiley contented baby. 

I love her, I love her, I love her.

Week one

Week Two

Week Three

Week Four

Week Five

Week Six

Week Seven

Week Eight

Week Nine

That’s all for now.

I will try hard to update properly soon.

Sadie xx

Wtf

The birth story is coming along slowly – it’s long and I write it in bits and pieces when I’m awake and functional.

I just need to quickly vent about something…

My mum just woke me up from a nap and said “Guess what? I just saw something on Facebook and it looks like Doug is married.”

I feel like someone has just kicked my legs out from underneath me.

He got over me, forgot the traumas of our fertility struggles and miscarriages, met someone new, fell madly in love, got engaged and then got married all in just 22 months??

He had this strict rule – no talk of engagement for the first 3 years of any relationship because that’s how long it takes for the “happy chemicals” to wear off and only then can you tell if you really love someone.

Once again I feel completely displaced in my own life.

That was all a lie. It was just me. I wasn’t good enough. He is the only man I’ve ever loved and I simply wasn’t good enough.

I got really upset at my mum and demanded to know why she’d woken me up to tell me such horrible news and she shrugged and said “What does it matter to you? You have a baby now.”

I get it.

Everyone thinks that my heart is all repaired now. My baby magically healed everything.

But I’m alone.

It’s just me and my child.

An accidental pregnancy to a man who never wanted to have children with me. A man who doesn’t really care about anyone but himself.

Nobody to cuddle me at night and say “Don’t worry sweetheart I’ll get up to the baby this time.”

Nobody to share this amazing time with. Nobody to tell me how proud they are and how lucky they are to have created a family with me.

Instead I’ve got to deal with a man who quit his job two days before our daughter was born, has refused to give me any money to contribute to hospital costs or the cost of looking after a newborn, has only come to visit us once since we left hospital and showed very little interest, then went out yesterday and bought himself a new car for absolutely no reason.

Now I’m at an all time low. I have a baby to take care of, a deadbeat ex, enough emotional baggage to fill a football stadium, I’ve been forced to move in with my parents at the age of 30 and my entire stomach, butt and thighs are completely mangled by hideous stretch marks. I am basically unlovable.

Doug is married to someone else. And I am unlovable.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I know I’m supposed to be grateful for my miracle baby. Don’t get me wrong – I am. I really am. This isn’t about her.

I know all I seem to do is complain about petty meaningless shit on my blog. I’m aware how grating that must be.

But my little sleep deprived 3am fantasy that Doug will one day come back to me is dead now.

It’s so disgustingly sad that it’s been almost two years, I’ve gone and had a baby to another man and yet I can’t let go of my husband. The man who left me just days after my last miscarriage. A man who never once stopped and looked back. A man I should rightfully loathe.

To me, forever is forever. And that’s just all there is to it.

He said we were forever and I believed him.

Now he is some other girl’s forever.

I have my daughter but I am alone.

I am just so tired of being alone. Of never being worth it or good enough for the men in my life.

And it scares me that my incredible lack of self worth will be passed on to my beautiful daughter. That she will one day learn that her daddy never really wanted her and it will begin another vicious lifelong cycle of low self esteem and choosing to love men who are incapable of loving her back.

I don’t have an ending to this post. I know I’ll cop shit for whining about Doug yet again, especially now my baby is here.

Chalk it up to sleep deprivation if I’ve pissed you off. Or maybe this is the start of postnatal depression.

I’m going to raid the fridge for chocolate now.

That is all.

Sadie xx

And then there was her…

image

image

Harriet Quinn S.

Born 12 May at 8.18am.

8 pounds 2 ounces of squishy goodness with a full head of black hair.

We’ve been through a few days of chaos with the little one sick in the neonatal special care unit whilst I was unwell myself after accidentally being administered a drug I was allergic to.

We are still in hospital and I’ll update fully in the near future.

But for now she’s here.

She’s mine.

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Just great…

I’m pretty sure I’m in the early stages of labour at the moment. I’m actually pretty stressed out about it.

My contractions aren’t regular yet but coming more frequently (at the moment 2 or 3 an hour) and it doesn’t look like I will make it to my scheduled c-section day.

As you know I’ve been miserable for weeks about the fact I need a c-section and have only just fully come to terms with it in the last couple of days.

Well…my aunt has just phoned my mother and gone off like a crazy person because apparently I’m an idiot for scheduling a c-section. I was sitting next to my mother and heard the whole thing.

Apparently I’ve done the wrong thing and made the wrong decision.

She reckons babies turn when they’re ready. And if they don’t turn then midwives just manually turn them.

My aunt is a scientist. She does not work in the field of obstetrics or midwifery but she seems to think being a scientist makes her an expert in everything.

According to her doctors “trick” weak minded women into c-sections because it’s just easy and convenient for them. Plus they earn more money from c-sections. I’m basically being conned.

Even when Mum explained my baby is too big to manually turn and the doctor said she is stuck where she is, my aunt rubbished her.

Mum explained the doctor estimated the chance of the ECV working was less than the chance of sending the baby into distress but my aunt insisted the baby is turnable.

Even when Mum explained my baby is footling breech and if I go into labour and birth naturally the baby can’t be born safely because her legs are totally split, my aunt said the doctor was lying to me about the position of my baby to get his own way.

Every single time Mum tried to explain that I was having a c-section for the safety of the baby, my aunt refuted that and said the c-section was just my choice but I was making the wrong choice.

MY CHOICE?!

I didn’t want this. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want my baby to be breech.

I wanted a natural damn water birth!

She has made me feel like a terrible mother now. Like I’m doing all this for nothing.

I know she is wrong. At least I think she is? I have seen ultrasound evidence that my baby is footling breech. I have watched my doctor unsuccessfully try to manipulate my baby’s head away from my lungs. I know he isn’t lying to me.

But I am physically in pain and I’m so tired and stressed and hormonal and now I’m questioning every decision I have made.

I DON’T NEED TO DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

I never asked them to try to manually turn my baby because the doctor said it wasn’t going to work. Should I have just insisted upon it??

I am now going to have this c-section knowing there are people in my family who think I’ve made the wrong decision and I’m just having a c-section for convenience.

I feel friggen awful. I just want to cry.

Why why why why why can’t my life ever just go smoothly??

My mum reckons that my aunt’s anger actually stems from an incident on the weekend involving my cousin (my aunt’s daughter).

My cousin contacted me and said she wanted to know the date of my c-section so she could take some time off work to come stay with me. Never mind that I’d never invited her to do this…

I kindly explained that I was keeping the date a secret so I could have some time (meaning…24 hours, not a few weeks) to get to know the baby before I was bombarded with well wishers and visitors.

Further, I explained James would be with me for the first few days and so perhaps it would be best if she held off on visiting for a short period of time until James had gone home (because the two of them don’t get along and frankly I don’t need that stress when I’ve got a newborn).

Well she was furious. She basically said she had more rights to see the baby than James did and even if he was there he could just “sit in the corner and change dirty nappies” whilst she and I were with the baby.

I told her no. I explained that no matter what anyone’s opinion of James is, he does have a right to spend a few days bonding with his daughter. So I wouldn’t be pushing him into a corner.

This was exasperated by a previous disagreement I had with my cousin a few weeks ago because she wanted to be in the delivery room instead of James. Once again she believed she had more of a right to be there than he did.

I understand she doesn’t like him. Hell, nobody in my family likes him. Most of the time I don’t like him! So I get it, I do.

But this is my baby and my birth. It should be up to me who is there with me, and I shouldn’t be dictated to by my 23 year old cousin. I shouldn’t be dictated to by anybody right now.

So now she is angry as hell and she’s not talking to me. And apparently now her mother thinks I’m an idiot for having a c-section.

Honestly when did my family become so dysfunctional?? My family has always been so middle class and normal and well…boring.

But isn’t this delightful!!

Anyone else wanna jump in and have a go at me??

Early labour is the perfect time for everyone to air their dirty laundry right?

Meanwhile, James came up to Paradise on the weekend to take me out to lunch for mothers day. He was very lovely and supportive and took me to a nice restaurant.

Then he let me go to a jewelry store and pick out a new necklace for my birthday which is coming up next week.

It was in no way extravagant, it was a heart shaped pendant that set him back about $200.

But it’s the first real gift he’s ever bought me and it made me happy to think he’s turning a new leaf and finally being supportive right when I need him.

Well about four hours ago he texted me to say he’d quit his job in the city.

He said he was quitting so he could focus on his mental health and getting better so he could treat himself, me and his kids better. He said he wants some time to find himself.

Well that’s a lovely sentiment but it also means that as he is now unemployed he no longer has to pay me any child support once the baby is born.

So financially I’m doing this on my own now. What great timing to find this out!

And those contractions just keep on coming. I may have to go up to the hospital soon.

Hooray! I’m having so much fun…

The last pregnancy update

Were you able to glean from my super creative blog post title that this will be my last pregnancy update before my baby is born? You did? Naww you guys are so clever.

I still want to update once more (hopefully on the weekend) about James, because I really need to have a huge vent session about him.

But as far as the pregnancy goes…this is it. And I can’t believe I’m saying that.

I can’t believe that within the next week I will be logging onto wordpress and saying “hey you guys…this is my daughter.”

That doesn’t feel real to me.

You know, I was 24 years old when I started trying to conceive with my husband. I’m now less than two weeks away from my 30th birthday. That’s six years. And six years is a long time, right?

But going through eight cycles of IVF and several fertility surgeries and multiple miscarriages and divorce and heartbreak and losing everything financially and debilitating depression and completely rebuilding my life and all the rest of it…six years actually seems like such a short timeframe to fit all that trauma in.

The entire past six years of my life are just a blur. The good, the bad, the ugly. My husband being with me, my husband being gone. Living in the city, living in Paradise. The highs and lows with James. They all just merge into one gigantic haze of emotion.

When my husband left me, I remember feeling so crushed that I believed I would never function as a normal human being again. Not only had he taken away the love and support of the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, he’d also stolen from me any chance I ever had to start a family. I couldn’t fathom how he could do that to me.

Two different doctors told me I would need a hysterectomy the year I turn 30. That was only two short years away, on the night my husband walked out of my life.

There was no way I was going to meet someone and fall pregnant within two years. Just no way. It was impossible. Completely out of the question.

And here I am…two weeks away from my 30th birthday and just one week away from giving birth.

I mean let’s not pretend the situation is ideal here. I’ve not met a new love and settled down into happy relationship bliss. Quite the opposite, really.

But nevertheless, the baby is real. And mine. I get to keep her. I get to take her home with me and she will be mine for the rest of forever. I will have to share her with her dad, but nobody will ever be her mother except for me.

When will this sink in for me? When she is born? When I take her home? When she is one year old? Five years old? When she graduates high school? When will this feel real?

I went for my last obstetrician appointment yesterday.

Baby is still breech. Not a huge surprise.

I mean I can actually see her head. I have a clear visual of it most of the day. It sits raised up above my bump, right underneath my ribcage.

It freaks my mother out. Sometimes I grab her hand and make her touch it, and she shrieks and runs away like someone has just thrown a spider at her. She said it gives her the creeps because you can so clearly feel that it’s a baby’s head under my skin but I think it’s hilarious.

As booboo is breech I’m not going to get the opportunity to do a maternal assisted c-section or have too much involvement at all. But I have been able to negotiate delayed cord clamping for her which makes me happy. They don’t routinely do that for c-section babies but my doctor was happy to comply.

Last week at my appointment my fundal height was measuring 39 weeks. The doctor thought that would pretty much be it, and baby might plump up a little but nothing more.

This week, my fundal height was measuring 42.5 weeks.

Let me just repeat that for you.

My bump is measuring past 42 weeks already.

My baby has had a massive growth spurt in the past week.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” Dr Eminem said. “But you have a huge baby in there. Huge. You’ll be lucky if she’s only ten pounds.”

Lucky if she’s only ten pounds? Good Lord…

“If you weren’t forced to have a c-section because of her breech position I would be strongly recommending a c-section for you anyway.” he continued. “That child would destroy your pelvic floor and also be at increased risk of getting stuck.”

How has this happened?

At 5 foot 4 inches tall and 64kg (140 pounds) when I fell pregnant (sadly I’m like 180 pounds now)…I’m not exactly a huge person.

How have I managed to cook a monster baby?!? No wonder I’m covered in stretch marks…

It makes me wonder if they should actually have re-tested me for gestational diabetes. I know I passed my glucose tolerance test just fine, but how else is such a huge baby possible?! What kind of genetics am I working with here…?

Anyway I asked my doctor if perhaps we should just be taking her out like………now. Right now.

But the doctor seems to think she’s quite happy in there. She’s not currently in any distress and obviously the placenta is still feeding her quite nicely because she’s growing faster than Donald Trump’s wackadoodle support base.

Also, my doctor is going in for surgery of his own and will be out of action for a few days. He is having a skin cancer cut off his face under a general anesthetic so he needs a few days to recover.

He said he is concerned I may go into labour spontaneously in the next few days (in which case his colleague will perform my c-section instead) but he is really desperately hoping she stays put until my scheduled surgery date so he can be the one to deliver her.

He said after everything I’ve been through, he really wants to be there for this birth. So much so that he’s actually coming back from his own scheduled leave just to do my surgery. So that’s nice I guess.

I was actually due to work up until the day before the baby is born. I was determined to work as close to my due date as possible so that I get to spend the most conceivable time at home with her before I need to return to work full-time next year.

But I’m first up on the daily theatre list and working until 5pm the night before, and then having my baby at 6am the following day seems a little…silly.

Especially now I’m so big. I mean no wonder I can’t sleep at night or breathe or walk properly or, you know, function as an adult. Nobody is supposed to actually get this big haha!

To be honest I’m a bit of a physical wreck and really in no condition to drive to work or sit at my desk for nine hours a day at the moment.

So I’m signing off work three days prior to my c-section. I’m still pretty happy that I’ve been able to work all the way up to three days before she is born – especially as I was acting in a higher duties role up until last week so dealing with extra stress.

I’m pretty proud of myself for that effort. Hopefully three days is enough time to actually get some sleep before she arrives.

Speaking of her arrival, I’m very lucky that the hospital is allowing me to have two people in the surgical theatre room when she’s born.

Due to the number of medical staff required in the room, the hospital has a strict policy that only one person is allowed to accompany the mother during the procedure. But my doctor has okayed it for me to have two – so it means I will have my mother with me as well as James.

It’s very comforting to know that if James loses the plot at any point and starts to make this whole thing about him and how he feels and what he thinks and how everyone should be treating him and blah blah blah (which I believe is a good possibility), my mother can step in to support me.

The worst thing would be James in the corner ranting that his life is ruined because he never wanted a baby or that I’m selfish or anything else whilst I’m numb on the table and the doctor is cutting me open. Hopefully it won’t happen. But…it may. Actually I think it’s a lot more likely to happen directly after she is born. But I’ll cover off on all of that in my next post.

For now…I think I’ve covered everything about the pregnancy.

Can anyone who has had a c-section give me some tips? Hints? Suggestions?

What mistakes did you make right after baby was born? What’s the best thing you did to get you up and moving quickly? How did you go with painkillers? Did you take them all or turn them down? Did you get bad vomiting after the procedure?

I will be forced to stay in bed for 24 hours after delivery. It’s a hospital policy – they keep the mother catheterized to keep them immobile. Not sure why.

But after that I really want to try and be up and moving as quickly as possible.

Any and all suggestions would be greatly appreciated!!

Apart from my next post about James that pretty much wraps things up.

So…see you all on the other side!

(Ahhhh just writing those words terrifies me!!)

Sadie xx

Out of time

Breech baby is still breech, and has now run out of time.

At my 37 week appointment this week Dr Eminem couldn’t even manipulate her head away from my ribs to get an accurate fundal height measurement. (Fundal height is now measuring 40 weeks but he thinks her head lessened the accuracy.)

He said booboo is well and truly stuck and her chances of turning on her own are basically nil.

He also said trying a proper manual turn (ECV) was going to have a less than 5% success rate based on her position and I would be putting her at risk by attempting it.

He did however say that he was trained in vaginal breech delivery and as he knew how badly I wanted to give birth naturally he was willing to consider this option for me. Yaayyy.

Then…he did an ultrasound.

First of all the baby’s head was already measuring 40+4 weeks. The rest of her measured 39 weeks which is spot on with our guess that I’m two weeks ahead of our original estimated due date.

The obstetrician explained that in breech deliveries the head size was super important to take into consideration because it’s the last thing to exit the body during birth.

When a baby comes out head first the plates in their skull are still flexible and able to overlap to ease the head through the birth canal. But in a breech delivery the skull is unable to flex as the baby is coming out chin first and no pressure is placed on the top of the head. This increases the risk of the baby becoming stuck.

Dr Eminem said with a head that size the risk to the baby is very significant during birth and it would be a high risk delivery. He explained if the baby gets her head stuck but her body has been delivered, they have to cut the hell out of me to try to free her and if that doesn’t work they need to push her back in to perform a c-section. Her chance of surviving is around 1%.

Second of all the baby is footling breech. She has one foot up by her face  (which she happily had in her mouth for most of the ultrasound) and the other down in my pelvis. This is why I still feel kicks top and bottom, which sometimes confuses me.

Dr Eminem said vaginal breech deliveries can’t even be attempted with footling breech babies as there’s no way to safely deliver them when their legs are split.

So basically let me sum this up for you: no vaginal breech delivery for me.

C-section is now absolutely the only way this baby is coming out of me. And let me tell you I am not yet coping.

Yes I know I know the safety of the baby is most important. I’m not a looney I totally get that. I would never do anything to jeopardize her.

But this is it. This is my only baby. The baby I was never supposed to have.

I will never get to experience labour. I’ll never get that surprise as I start to experience contractions. All the books I bought about calmbirth and hypnobirth are wasted. All my research is wasted. The playlist I spent months putting together for the delivery room is wasted.

I’d paid the deposit for a birth photographer and she isn’t allowed to come into the theatre room so I had to cancel and she kindly offered me a refund.

What I really badly wanted was to give birth in water – I mean I picked my hospital because they offer water birth as a standard option.

What I really badly wanted was to deliver the baby up onto my chest and after skin-to-skin and the first feed to get up and have a shower and move around.

Now I’ll be confined to bed for 24 hours and unable to lift my baby out of her hospital crib on my own. As James will be with me I will have no choice but to rely on him for support. That may or may not go badly.

I’ll also need to be given drugs intravenously. I am super anti drugs crossing the placental barrier through an epidural (particularly pethidine) and also through my breast milk. But now I have no choice.

As I’ve put on 20kg this pregnancy I was also super super keen to get up and get exercising straight away. I wanted to get back to the gym as soon as possible. Now the gym is right off the table and I won’t even be able to drive a car for 6 weeks!

It’s all just a cluster of fuckery I wouldn’t ever choose for myself or my daughter.

It’s the hand we’ve been dealt and I’m fully aware that c-sections aren’t a big deal. They’re super common and normal and fine and lots of women have them.

I’ve just waited six years for this event and built it up in my mind for so long. I wanted it so badly to be different and now I have to let go of that dream. Just another way my body has failed me.

What’s actually causing me to be the most upset and has brought on several panic attacks is why my baby is breech.

She has been breech since I was 30 weeks pregnant and not attempted to turn.

Google the reasons babies stay breech for extended periods of time and enjoy your trip down the rabbit hole.

Common reasons for breech

1. The placenta is low and the baby can’t engage. My placenta is high so this one isn’t relevant.

2. Too much or not enough amniotic fluid. My fluid levels are perfect so this one isn’t relevant.

3. A growth in the uterus such as fibroids. Of all the things wrong with my reproductive system this is one problem I’ve never had so this isn’t relevant either.

4. Fetal abnormalities.

BOOM.

There it is.

Sadie has gone straight to DEFCON 1 on this one. Welcome to my anxiety filled brain.

So many websites say a baby turning head down is considered their first milestone. My baby has missed that milestone. Why??

The risk of a baby that never turns head down having an abnormality is triple that of head down babies. Triple. TRIPLE.

Do you know what causes a lot of those abnormalities? A lack of folic acid.

Do you know what I have? A double gene mutation which stops my body properly absorbing folic acid.

I mean is my baby sick or disabled and have I caused it myself?

I spent hours on Thursday night hysterically crying to my mother. I was in such a panic and had totally convinced myself there was something very wrong with my baby.

It got to the point where my mother was shouting at me to calm down because I was just being irrational and not listening to logic.

The next day she did a lot of research of her own (she even went to the library!) and she found a super common reason babies don’t turn head down is maternal stress. The uterine muscles behave differently when the mother is under stress and the baby can’t turn or engage.

If there’s one thing I’ve dealt with in excess this entire pregnancy it’s stress. The James situation is a daily struggle and in many ways I’ve never experienced 9 months under greater stress. Not even IVF can match it.

Oh please oh please oh please let that be the reason.

There’s nothing I can do now and no way I can change or control anything. I have just under two weeks until the date of my scheduled c-section and all I can do is wait.

The main thing for me right now is keeping my anxiety under control and trying to remember I’ve done honestly everything within my power to keep this baby safe and healthy.

I love her. She is my everything. Nothing will change that, no matter what happens. I need to trust myself. Trust my baby. Trust my body (if that’s at all possible). Trust my mind to stay calm enough to get me through these last few days.

As always, I’ll keep you updated.

Sadie xx