T. says it’s like being poised on the balls of your feet, ready to dart in any direction depending on the next move of the ball (it’s evidently a sports metaphor, which I study like a foreign language).
Is mentally preparing for a cesarean birth defeatist? My sister told me about her SIL, whose baby was breech until the day before she was born. The family was sitting around the living room and they all watched the undulations of her belly as the baby turned. Prior to this, the SIL’s parents were vehemently trying to talk her into having a c-section, but SIL just balked, refused.
Is acquiescence to the Doc’s recommendations wimping out? Do you fight the current or go with the flow?
Last night I dreamed the baby had turned, but this morning found that it’s still hanging out in its favorite spot, elbow in my navel, head under my rib cage.