I am not a planner. My idea of a five year plan has been to 'get a degree' and that plan has taken me nine years so far and is still under way. The problem with plans is that you become attached to them. You get this false sense of control over them, when really life does not grant us this kind of control. And what fun would it be if it did?! All of the suspense and surprise that comes from embracing the unknown would be lost....Bo-ring! For me the journey has always been the destination. It's not where you go, but how you get there. And my while my journey has not stayed an obvious steady course, it has lead me to some pretty amazing destinations.
However, in the past couple of years I have begun to get in touch with my inner planner, trying to take a little more control over the course I am charting. At this the universe just laughs and reminds me to maintain a sense of non attachment to my precious plans.
As you may have deduced by now, the external version yesterday was not able to coerce this child into the launch position. The physical strength and medical experience of a surgeon and a midwife were not able to budge the baby past the transverse position. I have known from the beginning that this was a determined child who was not the least bit concerned with my plans, so really I have no cause to be surprised. And, honestly, I am not surprised.
I have done everything in my power to influence the position our little independent enigma. I have spent the past two weeks with my chin on the floor and my butt in the air in an attempt to get the baby's head to 'float' up into my pelvis (due to the greater air space in the head as opposed to the butt). I have been swimming, which is far more enjoyable, but still slightly socially awkward. Just imagine a very pregnant lady waddling into the pool and then proceeding to do a series of hand stands, continually diving down and throwing her legs up in the air. "The baby's upside down" I say to those that can't help but stare. I have taken to carrying my iPod around with my with the earpieces stuffed into my panties, hoping that the calming cello concertos of Yo Yo Ma will coax draw the baby downward. I stack ice packs on my belly to try to give the baby a brain freeze that will make diving down to warmer waters more appealing. I have been seeing my acupuncturist who can get the baby to move by poking a needle into the outside of my little toes and wiggling it around. Greg and I did a guided meditation with my naturopath and have been talking to the baby, telling him or her all the the reasons why he or she should turn.
All to no avail.
So I am not surprised that this baby's will is stronger than that of the two doctors who tried to force him or her to move yesterday. But I am still having a hard time letting go of the birth plan that Greg and I have been imagining for the past eight months. While they say there is still a chance that the baby may turn, as he or she has not yet completely descended into my pelvis, the next step after a failed version is to schedule a C-section. So we can all look forward to New Year's Eve, when we will be able to meet this little rebel. Talk about planning!
In opening myself up to the complete surrender of our birth plan, I can not help but feel a loss. Now I know that not every woman looks forward to the pain of labor and natural birth, but I was really looking forward to seeing what my body can do. It's like training for a marathon for eight months and then when the time comes to run the race they tell you that you won't be running, you'll be taken directly to the finish line. And when everyone crosses the finish line all ragged and exhausted they tell you how lucky you are for escaping the blisters, joint pain, and paralyzing exhaustion. But you would have given anything to lose count of the blisters on your feet, to puke at mile 23 and still make it to the finish, to feel that runner's high. So right now I am feeling a little cheated and a little sad, feelings which I know will melt away the moment I get to meet our little enigma.
In spite of all of this the optimist in me is still alive and well. And while I prepare for this new birth plan I will still hold out hope for the baby to change his or her mind and surprise us all by turning at the last minute. No matter how it ends up, Greg and I are getting our first lesson in parenting. Learning that no matter what we plan or dream for our child, they are the ones in control. So we get to learn early the never ending lesson of letting go and learning to accept the decisions that your children make.
We had our last visit with the midwives today and everything went well. At thirty-eight and a half weeks Baby is still happy, with a strong heartbeat and is doing lots of calisthenics. And I am not growing or gaining as much these days, measuring 36 1/2 cm. While I can not imagine being any bigger, I must say that I am pretty comfortable. I can still put my own socks on and I can even touch my toes! 
