Heatin' UP

We are on our way to our 37-week appointment where I will have an ultrasound to determine which direction the baby is facing (we hope head down with her butt forward) and to get an approximation of her weight thus far. I have been up since 4:00 a.m. after a very fitful night of sleep. I can't seem to sleep through the anxiety that comes the night before a doctor's appointment. I keep reading about women who went in for their appointments and were sent directly to L&D (that's labor and delivery) because of major dilation or protein in urine or something else. I don't feel unusual at all-- except this heat is making my feet look like Shrek's feet-- but just in case, I am putting my bag in the car. I may be doing myself a disservice by reading my Mommy message board on babycenter.com, but the real injustice would be if I torture myself by reading it and then take no steps to heed what I have read. So, into the car my bag will go. I just shoved some extra snack bars and rubber bands in there, just in case I feel the need to corn row my hair or eschew the phat dining available at the brand new Prentice Hospital in order to chow on some organic date bars.

So back to the baby. I am told that if she is breech or not in the right position the doctor will "take measures" to see if we can turn her. These measures include the doctor trying to turn her from the outside by spinning my belly like she's a contestant on the Wheel of Fortune. I saw it once on the Baby Story and it looked really painful and ultimately difficult to pull off. She may not have enough room to get into a different position and I may not have enough stamina to let the doctor push and prod me for something that ultimately won't work. I am trying to brace for the possibility of walking out today with a date for a C-section. Is it the worst thing that could happen? Absolutely not. We just want everyone to come home safely from Peppermint's birth. However, I detest the though of a C-section because it's so medical and involves incisions and hugely interventionist procedures. Mostly, I would be very sad because I really want to hold my juicy little Peppermint the minute she comes out-- as in, before they clean her up and weigh her. I want to go primal and have her near me, but if I have a C-section, that's not possible. From what I have seen and heard, the best they can do with a C-section is to parade her before my face while my innards are stuffed back into my body's cavity and I won't even be able to touch her. I will surrender to whatever the doctor says, but I will NOT be pleased if I have to go that route.

Thinking about all of that last night and counting Pepps' kicks last night didn't leave much room for sleeping. I am also getting used to contending with the 80-degree heat and the high humidity. Everyone has always told me how lucky I am that I won't be pregnant in August and now I know why. Yesterday, when I was walking to work, I could only walk about a block before having to guzzle some Gatorade. By the time I made it to my office, my hands looks like Polish sausage and I didn't recognize my feet. Ankles? What ankles? I kept wondering how women in the South do this because it's hot for months down there. What about poor women who have no access to central air conditioning or the comforts I take for granted? Being dehydrated can cause contractions and early labor, so you better believe that I was all over that yesterday. I was sipping ice water all freaking day and sending well wishes to my Southern and less fortunate sisters who have to navigate extreme heat while trying to carry a baby.