At my last midwife appointment before leaving Tucson, they told me Sasha 2.0 was breech. That's not really a big deal at 30 weeks (which I was at the time, and again, that's out of 40 total weeks in case you're wondering), even if only one out of four or five babies are in that position that far along in a pregnancy.
Now I'm a little over 33 weeks, and as far as I can tell, Sasha hasn't decided to flip around to the correct position. However, it is notoriously difficult for me to tell exactly how she's situated inside of me. I know that must sound strange, but even if I think I can identify limbs or large segments of body just from feeling them, it's almost impossible for me to put it all together into a 3D image of the baby inside of me.
I have a midwife appointment here in Middlebury later this week, and I'm hoping they'll be able to tell me for sure if she's turned or not.
All of this is not really a big deal, and as far as things going "wrong" in pregnancy, breech position is pretty tame. Except for one thing - most midwives will not deliver breech babies, and in fact, the standard method of delivery for such a situation is C-section.
Yes, the dreaded C-word. That's what's really bothering me about this whole thing. Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against C-sections or the people who choose or are required to have them. But that person was never me. I was all set on visualizing an improved birth experience over my first and all of a sudden I feel like someone has thrown a bucket of cold water on me. I think every woman probably has "C-section" floating around somewhere in the farthest recesses of her mind when she's pregnant, but now it's shoved its way up a few notches of consideration.
I've tried not to think about it too much because Sasha 2.0 still has a few weeks to turn, but I can't help but worry, at least a little bit.