Enter the Drama Queen

My mother finds it a very amusing thing to tell her friends that I attract drama like honey attracts flies. I, of course, find it not-quite-as-amusing, though at least she says "attracts" and not "creates," because I do not actually create drama, it just sort of follows me around incessently - like a puppy or a toddler.

Heidi would call it being a "crap magnet" - although not all of my drama is of the bad sort, just, well ... dramatic.

Unfortunately, I have to agree. Especially after this week. This week was going fine until I mentioned I felt a gut feeling that something was "off" and the midwife ordered a non-stress test and ultra sound so I didn't drive myself crazy.

As it turns out, Pebbles, after being compliant and facing head down since 29 weeks, is now BREECH - lying sideways across my belly and trending toward moving vertical - only with her head UP. Woodstock was breech, but she was breech the entire time until 37(ish) weeks when she turned. I'm due in EIGHT DAYS and my child turned breech sometime in the last week when I wasn't paying attention.

Transverse babies cannot be delivered vaginally, for obvious reasons. On the flip side, doctors normally quite happy to "prescribe" a c-section don't want to, because who wants to perform surgery on a patient fully anti-coagulated? Not only that, but if I went into labor I would then need an emergency c-section with general anesthesia (no time to un-anti-coagulate, eliminating all spinal anesthesia possibilities). Two bad things about this: a. I miss the birth entirely. b. Me and general anesthesia are better off staying far, far away from each other. Five surgeries. four had complications. two had life-threatening complications. The odds aren't so fabulous. Never mind the fact that I DO NOT WANT a c-section.

This sent my perfectly planned world into a tailspin. Suddenly I can no longer wish to wake up in the throes of labor pains. Suddenly I have to sit with my rear in the air and tilted right, holding a bag of frozen spinach to Pebbles' head in hopes of persuading her to relocate to another position. Often. Repeatedly. Suddenly, I'm going to the chiropractor's office twice a day to fix my badly misaligned pelvis in hopes that will coax Pebbles to settle down and cooperate. Suddenly, it's twice-a-week non-stress tests and ultrasounds and midwife visits to "keep an eye on" the baby so when she turns we can take action (I'm very empathetic to Kristin at the moment). Suddenly, while I'm still technically "working" I'm spending most of my day driving all over The Frontier.

Then the phone rings at 1:30 a.m. It was Himself's sister letting him know that FIL1 had had a heart attack, was rushed to the hospital and had a second one - it's related to his cancer treatments, they're not sure he'll make it. Himself so eloquently put it at 2 a.m., "He's not dead ... yet."

Up until 3 getting updates and dealing with the adrenaline that comes from being woken up mid-sleep cycle. Himself went back to sleep. There was to be no more sleep for me - once I'm woken up, I'm up. I did the dishes, straightened the kitchen, checked my e-mail, found a chiropractor and played solitaire. I fell asleep watching some baby show at 5:30, only to have to wake up at 6:30.

Today I've spent the day coordinating with the midwife and perinatologist and chiropractor and waiting for updates from Himself and surfing for cheap tickets to the northwest in case he decides to see his dad this weekend. And trying to concentrate on the never-ending "to do list" I have at work.

Maybe mom is right - I may not create drama, but I certainly seem to attract it. I'll gladly share, if anyone is feeling left out and getting too comfortable in the "life is grand, nothing ever changes" stage.