Baby Flippage

Our version was scheduled for Friday morning at 10 am. They asked us to arrive at 9.

Thursday night was an exhausting whirlwind of installing the car seat, washing baby clothes, and packing hospital bags just in case. We didn’t really think we were going to need them, but you just never know.

We were hot and tired and stressed and anxious. It was not a good combination. I was really scared of the version itself and Catch was frustrated for other reasons, and the two of us were not coping well with each others issues. It wasn’t a great evening. The following morning wasn’t so fantastic, either.

By the time we arrived at labor & delivery on Friday morning, we were doing a bit better. I had made peace with the idea of the version. As the nurse settled me into the room and hooked me up to the monitors, she noted that the baby’s heartbeat was positioned high—a good 3 or 4 inches above my belly button over on the left side—and that she was definitely still breech.

We waited about an hour for the doctor to come in, but he finally arrived with the ultrasound machine in tow. Five minutes later, Catch and I were laughing with the doctor and the nurse as we all stared at a big dark oval on the screen. The baby’s head. In my pelvis. Exactly where it was supposed to be.

No breech baby. No version. No scheduled c-section. Cue the relief!

36 Weeks & Breech

We had an eventful OB appointment this morning. I am 36 weeks today and baby girl is officially breech (my suspicions were correct).  Now we deal with the consequences of that. 

My OB has scheduled us for a version on Friday morning next week (37 weeks on the nose) with another OB because she’s on vacation that week. She went on and on about how she’s never had any complications arise during a version, but then we discovered that she won’t be able to perform this one and I’ll be with a doctor I’ve never met before. If any complications arise, I’ll have an emergency c-section. She is not optimistic that the version will be successful given the baby’s position, my placenta’s position, and my fluid levels, so we now have a c-section officially scheduled for July 10th. On the off chance that the version is successful, we wait for normal labor and hope she doesn’t turn back. 

This honestly has me a little (ok, a lot) on edge. First, there’s no way in hell that I’m ready to have a baby on Friday. That just can’t happen. So this version had better be free of all complications. Either they turn her or they don’t, but the cord, amniotic fluid, and placenta had better play by the rules and just keep doing what they need to do. There will be no emergency delivery on Friday. 

Second, the c-section. I’ve been so open-minded about birth plans, but let’s face it–that’s just not how I envisioned giving birth. The idea scares me on so many levels. I will do anything for my baby girl, but I don’t think that means I have to like it. 

So, the best possible outcome is that the version will be successful and I’ll be left to go into labor when baby is ready. The second best option is that the version doesn’t work and we have our scheduled c-section on July 10th. We’re not even considering the third possibility at the moment, because a June baby is just not in the cards. 

Now please regale me with encouraging tales of babies who flip and versions that are not painful. 

35 Weeks 

I don’t have a drop of energy left for thinking of things like words, so this is a giant photo dump. 

Baby = Growing



House = Total Chaos

This is a before view of the baby’s room just after moving day. 

This is what it looked like on Saturday afternoon when we discovered some “problems” under the window. 

And this is what it looks like this morning after a full weekend of non-stop work. (Mostly by my mom, partly by me.)  

 This week, all of the closet doors will be sanded to clear 60 years of layers of semi-gloss paint, I will finish the prep work on the walls, and we’ll paint. Next week my dad will add new baseboards, and we will FINALLY be able to buy our nursery furniture. 

Fortunately, our own bedroom is slightly less of a disaster area.  

I totally confess to buying new bedding to match the door. I really love that door.  
Here’s how the fridge almost fit and why I should not be trusted with a tape measure. 

And here’s how we made it fit.   

In Conclusion

Life is going to be totally nuts for a while. Every twinge I feel from baby girl has me muttering “5 more weeks. Just stay put for 5 more weeks.” Someday, we will be ready for her, but that day is not today. Not even close. 


Moving Week

Have I mentioned that it’s a terrible idea to buy a house in your third trimester of pregnancy? Yes? Well I mean it. I really, really, really mean it. More than I ever meant it when I said it before. This should be on the list of things not to do while pregnant alongside medium rare steak, eggs over easy, and martinis. All three of which I could really use right about now. Along with a nap. And a bottle of Tylenol. And some antacids.

I have lived in rentals for the past 15 years. The thing with rentals is that when you move into them, they are spotless. Everything is clean and all you generally have to do is move in and get settled. This is not the case with a house that has just been vacated by sellers. There’s no requirement that they clean their layers of dirt from the place when they leave. That’s all up to the buyer. And let me tell you—we have some dirt to manage before we move our furniture in and start sleeping there tomorrow.

Poor Catch scrubbed ALL DAY yesterday. I scrubbed off and on for a while in between demands from one person or another that I sit down and rest. Unfortunately, the only chair we had over there yesterday was one of our camping chairs, and it required about as much effort to get OUT of that damn chair as it did to wash the 5 layers of dirt covering the blinds in the laundry room.

Thank goodness we have help. Granted the help comes with strings attached, but I’m in no position to turn down any form of assistance at this point even if it does result in conversations like this:

Mom: When are you having a locksmith out to change the locks?

Me: We’re not.

Mom: Yes you are.

Me: No, we’re not.

Mom: Yes you are.

Me: It’s not a priority right this second. We have a security system. We will change the locks eventually, but we have enough to deal with right now.

Mom: You are changing the locks.

424 unbudgeted dollars later, all eleven (!) freaking locks have been changed or else I would STILL be having this conversation with my mother. She even brought it up at a graduation party last weekend so my COUSINS could chime in and the three of them could gang up on me and tell me how crazy I am for not changing all of the locks first thing. Holy hell, people. I have lived in rentals all of my adult life—how many people have had the keys to all of the other places I’ve lived? Sheesh.

BUT, she did spend yesterday afternoon scrubbing several years of kitchen dirt/grime off of the kitchen cabinets in such a meticulous manner that I have a new understanding as to why she’s had a housekeeper for 20 years. It would take her 3 years to clean the whole house otherwise.

Also, the fridge I ordered is an inch too tall. I measured the width, but the height didn’t even occur to me. This is why you don’t let absent-minded pregnant ladies handle big decisions. ONE INCH. Shoot me. The fridge is being delivered this afternoon and we’re determined to make it work somehow.

Bitching, moaning, achiness and exhaustion aside… I put paint samples on the wall of our baby’s room yesterday. OUR BABY’S ROOM. IN OUR HOUSE.


(Kind of hard to tell, but the room is lavender right now. We’re going to paint it a warm-ish shade of grey. We decided on the last one – Glidden Sutton Place Grey, in case you’re curious. This picture really doesn’t do the colors any justice.)

33 Weeks

I haven’t updated in a bit, and there’s so much to say—this is a really long disjointed post! My apologies!

The House


(Our Realtor is adorable and worked her ass off to make this all happen. We love her.)

After we signed our final loan documents last week, Catch and I agreed that while getting pregnant is hands down the hardest thing we’ve ever done, buying a house is a close second. Nothing about our home buying process went according to plan. It was like a game of whack-a-mole—you smash the hell out of one of those buggers and another one pops right up. There were complications right down to the moment we were sitting with the notary signing our final paperwork. The stress and anxiety were killing us both, BUT…

As of Friday, escrow is closed and we are officially homeowners.

Unfortunately, due to a few of the complications mentioned above, the sellers get to continue to live in our house for about 10 extra days. We are hoping to have keys by Sunday evening, but we’re not holding our breath.

In the meantime, we prepare to move. And when I say we prepare to move, I mean that Catch mostly packs boxes while I mostly take naps. I never even changed out of my pajamas yesterday. Consider it my contribution to California’s water crisis. Fewer clothing changes = less laundry = water conservation. That’s what I’m going to keep telling myself, anyway.

The Baby


We are 47 days from her due date. That is nuts.

If her activity level is any indication, I’d say baby girl is fantastic. It’s not uncommon to hear me say “oof” or “ouch” completely out of the blue as she pummels my insides. I really do love it, even when it hurts. There’s just something about her jabs and stretches and rolls that remind me that she is more than just an abstract idea.

The other night, Catch put her ear to my belly and listened to baby girl’s hiccups. Thanks to Don’t Worry, I Won’t Be Like That for the suggestion! You really can hear them. It’s kind of trippy. We listened on the doppler for a minute, so I could hear them too.

She’s still in a weird position. I swear she flipped for a while on Saturday because I was feeling kicks in the middle of my belly for a change, but it only lasted a short time before it was back to how it was—head at my left hip and feet between my right hip and ribs.

The Mommy

Here’s the 33 week bump. You can really tell she’s hanging out low.


The belly is growing, and my pelvic pain is increasing accordingly. If I don’t wear my maternity support undies, it’s even worse. It’s a struggle to be on my feet for any extended period of time these days. I feel like a tired, miserable, lazy blob, but there’s not much I can do about it. My doctor was kind enough to let me know that by 34 weeks or so, even the support garments won’t help. Fantastic. I think I’d be in much better shape mentally if this wasn’t such an issue.

My calendar knows me.


My mom asked me at dinner the other night if I’m getting scared, and I totally am. I am not prepared for childbirth. I haven’t done anything I wanted to do. I feel ill-informed, unprepared, and just generally pretty disappointed in myself for not having “it” together. Whatever “it” is. Now that we’re on the verge of moving and being settled, I’m trying to get us into some of the classes our hospital offers. We may be too late for the childbirth class, but I’ve got us signed up for breastfeeding and baby care. At least it’s something.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to be less than 7 weeks away from your due date and have your life in boxes? I am seriously climbing the walls. This is the opposite of nesting. I just want everything to be calm and settled and ready, but we’re several weeks away from that even being a remote possibility. I am channeling my nesting energy into planning her nursery. It’s a complete departure from the camping/nature/vintage national parks poster nursery we had planned, but the original plan was proving complicated to pull together and the last thing I need right now is complication. This is basically where we’ve ended up. Way more pink/floral than I ever imagined, but I still love it.


I will leave you with a few random photos.

Even though it needs a bit of TLC, I am totally in love with this outdoor rocking chair we bought at a neighbor’s yard sale a few weeks ago. We can’t wait to clean it up, add a cushion, and spend the summer evenings rocking our baby girl in our new yard.


And baby purchases. We bought a bunch of clothes over the weekend, but I couldn’t resist these two crabby things for our little cancer baby. Plus, they’re not pink. I am SO SICK of pink clothes. Give me ANY color but pink.