Our midwife was on vacation for a month, so I hadn’t seen her for what seemed like months (I did have another midwife check on me, however). We had a nice long visit today, after a week or so of postponement. She had to push me to Friday because this week she attended 4 unexpected births. At least three of those, she surmises, could have potentially ended in a cesarean had they happen in a hospital or the birthing center. At the very least, the women would have been artificially induced for laboring too long; two of them labored for more than 2.5 days, water broken and all. Her mission in life, she said, is to do all that is in her power to prevent cesareans. (Apparently, her other mission is to protect woman’s perineum. On more than one occasion I heard her say: “First time mom, 10 pound baby, intact perineum.”)
I love asking her about the births she witnesses. I love, love how proud and satisfied she is with her work, how tireless and honest. She just let’s things happen naturally while monitoring for problems. That’s precious, rare, beautiful. It’s what I didn’t know I dreamed of.
So, because of her, I can report that we are doing fine over here. The boy’s head is wedged in my pelvis, his back is going along the left side of my belly (favorable), and what I thought was his head is actually his cutie-pie bum hitting my ribs. My belly measures 31 centimeters, which is exactly right at my 31 weeks (it should measure the number of weeks plus/minus 2). My weight gain is great, 15lb so far, it can be double that by the end. Blood sugar is good (the number is 120, should be under 140), as well as blood pressure (104/60). We’re so ok right now, I could dance.