a baby dropped

I realised today that this baby of mine has dropped. I don’t know how much, I can’t even tell you how I’d measure such a thing, but all of a sudden I’m getting a lot of strange movements much lower down, and I can breathe a lot easier. I wonder if this is why I have felt better the first half of this week, more energised?

Either way, with ‘technically’ less than a month to go, that’s exciting. However today Ava and I are both under the weather with sightly upset tummies. Mine isn’t too bad, but Ava was sick a few times throughout the night. There is nothing worse than seeing your child sick, even if it simply a little bug. ‘How do you feel?’ we asked her. ‘A bit sad’, she said.

She seemed fine this morning, but has been very tired and dozey all day, with rosey cheeks and a very snuggly disposition. My second Graze box arrived in perfect timing and that’s the only thing I’ve managed to eat (it was just what I needed – light, nutritious snacks)

I’ve been reading more Ina May writing and the book my friend lent me, ‘Simply Give Birth’, and have felt somewhat more reassured that the issue I’m mulling over right now, whether or not to get a consultation about my possible fluid levels, is not actually one that has to leave me in any doubt over my own ability. I wish I didn’t have to make a choice at all – Can you imagine, if I hadn’t had my tummy measured (a very unreliable source of information) I might just be continuing on my way, without a second thought to anything being up.

Given that my fluid levels have been at the high end of normal throughout, without any sudden increases, it would seem then that this is my normal. Why think otherwise? It’s so easy to see everything as a risk, as a reason to worry, and what a strange way to view something so natural and primitive. What I won’t, can’t allow, is to stop trusting that my body is highly capable of giving birth to the baby within it. If the right conditions are present. That means conditions where I feel able to truly relax, to get in touch with the process of birthing, to feel at home with myself, and primitive, too.

I see Ava’s birth more clearly the more I read about the process of birthing. I had an image of my body as simply able to give birth to her without any reason to think otherwise. I visualised all sorts of things which ended up becoming reality, and I think this trust in yourself is the thing you cannot let anyone negate.

I remember having an image of my hips widening with complete ease and slipping Ava out, and this is just what seemed to happen. I have no doubt that seeing the way it would go in such a way is the reason it did go this way. If I had listened to anyone who told me that this big baby of mine might cause complications, I might have started to see the whole thing differently, and everything would have changed.

So, last night I decided it might be helpful to do some visualisations where baby Ezra moved down into the perfect position and where my fluid levels were completely fine and various other fun things. I can’t say why it works, but I do believe it does, because I am positive that down he is. Even his kicks are lower down.

I think visualisation, more than anything else, is the thing that works for me. A combination of breathing, being mindful, and visualising. I may well have another scan, I honestly don’t know yet, but I will not be talked into birthing in any other way than I feel is right. This I feel sure of.

What I need now is gentle, calm energy around me, to prepare myself mentally for the kind of environment I want to birth in. I need to do a lot more breathing and mindfulness exercises every day. I need to zone in, allow my body to be the whole context for what I listen to and trust. It’s a funny thing to not know when a baby might come, but to know it is soon. Not because your due date is just around the corner, but because, if you stop to listen to your body, you can feel how it is beginning to change in subtle ways. Your milk comes in, your baby gets lowers, and you feel different. You feel as if this process is coming to an end, and each time a movement is so big that you actually see this near-full term baby of yours trying to get comfy, it becomes easier to imagine the reality of a whole little baby that you will hold and sniff and love.


About Kendal

I'm Kendal Mosley-Chalk. I live in York with my husband and two children.
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