First, please note the time this was posted. It is currently 5:56 AM and I've been up for about 2 hours. On a Saturday. Compliments of one 6-pound unborn child, I might add, who seems to be interested only in making it known that she is becoming increasingly uncomfortable where she is and is ready for a change of scenery. More on that in a minute.
I got up so that Rob can get some sleep (and he is doing just that). I'll catch a nap later. But what do I do to get this kid calmed down so maybe I can catch just a few more Zs before the sun comes up? Run the Swiffer around to pick up the dog hair kills about 10 minutes. Not hungry. Don't feel like reading. Maybe there's something on TV. VH-1 is showing videos for once, and wouldn't you know that Britney Spears' new one is in high rotation. It's a catchy little tune--watch it here. I've realized that the more I move around, the less the baby seems to. This is doubtless going to become very important in the coming months.
So I rock out along with Ms Spears, singing along with the parts I know, dancing because nobody is watching (thank God, because there's a lot going on when I dance lately). And the kid calms down. She switches from actively rolling around in there with arms flailing (you can SEE the shape of a leg moving around) back to the restful sleep that I've come to treasure.
What's the lesson here? Perhaps that tiptoeing around a restless baby, with a quiet house and not a lot of movement, is not going to be the only solution for getting her to go to sleep. Sure, the singing and dancing may not always work, but it is officially going to be a part of the repertoire. Anyone who has witnessed my karaoke can attest to the fact that an audience only adds to my enthusiasm. So there we go.
Since I'm up and posting, here's what else is going on. Speck is "transverse", or breech. At my last OB appointment we determined that she needs to flip over if she's going to do the traditional "make like a baby and head out" thing. And that needs to happen soon. If it doesn't, then I'm a candidate for a C-section. This doesn't exactly thrill me, but this isn't about me having my ideally envisioned birthing experience. It's about this baby safely entering this world, and if that has to happen in an OR with a melon baller, then that's what we'll do. I see the perinatalogist on Wednesday for another ultrasound (more pictures!) and the OB on Thursday, and between the three (four, if you count our star attraction) of us, we're going to start coming up with a plan of action.
We've also done a bit more prep, besides the continued purchase of cute little clothes. We now have pictures on the wall of the nursery (terribly important, as our child must live in a properly decorated environment) and I have an appointment to meet with a pediatrician. A good friend (Tina :) ) recommended hers, and he's got an office that's just across the highway from us. I'll do some research on what sort of questions to ask (open to suggestions here...) and Rob and I are going to talk about what we'd like to know--such as how understanding will he be when we freak out about something that may or may not be freak-out worthy--and we'll go from there.
It's now 6:19 (hey look, the sun's coming up...) and I think I can crash for a bit longer. If not, I can always queue up some Britney on youtube.com, and she can help me nurture the kid. Shake it, Brit.
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