I can't think of any other stage in my life where I have used weeks to mark the passage of time. It strikes me as a little odd that pregnancy is that way though. At the beginning it feels like 40 weeks is the longest time ever. I mean EVER. It feels like it will never get here, so just don't think about it or dwell on how long you will be a bloated porpoise or how long it will take for you to blow up to bloated porpoise size. For the record, I haven't ever seen a bloated porpoise, or any porpoise for that matter, but it sounds round and bulbous, and that's how I feel, so there.
I'm a little hesitant to post this, because I don't want to give it any more of my attention...as if that will somehow make it more true, or more likely to remain true, but I'm a big mouth...At our last midwife appointment, our baby was breech. For most moms this is absolutely no big deal. Afterall, I was only 32 weeks preggo at the time (now I'm 32.5). Right after our midwife determined the position, baby flipped transverse (sideways for those not familiar with the lingo) which is a good sign meaning that there is still plenty of room for the head to wedge itself down into my pelvis.
It's early, and at the appointment and all throughout the rest of the day I was fine. I didn't worry about it, but then all of the memories of being powerless to do anything to stop my inevitable c-section last time came rushing back. I bawled that night. I worried that I was selfish to seek the birth that I want, that I might not be strong enough to do the birth thin, that I might not be worthy, ya know, your usual run of the mill gammet of self pity and loathing.
I woke up and was fine in the morning and ever since. I'm working on focusing what is within my power, trusting my body and the birth process, and just relaxing a bit...plus adding in some chiropractic appointments for good measure.
I go back to the midwife next week (at 33.5 weeks if you're counting), and hopefully I'll have some great news to share!!