Over the last week or so, Tempest has made it very difficult
to keep food down. Even eating tiny meals slowly has made little difference.
Greasy food is a DEFINITE no-no, as is fake sugar and anything high in saturated
fat; whether greasy or not. Big meals are out, and small meals MUST be eaten
VERY slowly. Take a tiny bite, chew it to mush, swallow and wait 2-3 minutes
before taking the next tiny bite. Drink water between bites. And even then, I
wind up burping more than a beer-chugging frat boy. Ah, the glamour of
pregnancy.
I jokingly suggested to Hubs, yesterday, that perhaps I
should consider “juicing.” No, not steroids: Geez. I mean going on a liquid
diet. Silken tofu and various fruits and vegetables pureed in a blender with
some juice or other liquid. Out of curiosity, I tried a smoothie for breakfast
this morning instead of something more solid. Aside from the inevitable belching,
I haven’t been forced to bow at the feet of Ralph, The Porcelain God yet. The
day is still young but if this keeps up, I’m pulling the blender back out of
retirement and buying stock in tofu at the local Coop.
I think Tempest is still breech, but he did some seriously
wild wiggling last night when I went to bed, so for all I know he may very well
have flipped around. If not, he clearly has the ability to do so. But we’ll
find out for sure on the 24th when we have our 36-week ultrasound.
I.F. seems amenable to the possibility of external cephalic version: Turning
the baby around from the outside, manually. Basically the doctor (with or
without the assistance of a nurse-midwife) would give me a shot of muscle
relaxer aimed at the uterus specifically, and push and prod at Tempest through
my belly to try to get him to turn around so he’s head-down. I’ll admit that
this idea makes me feel a lot better than just leaving him as he is, and
insisting on a C-section. *FINGERS CROSSED*
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