Last night the baby dropped. He’s been riding really high since the moment of conception so a week and a half ago when my nurse practitioner told me to expect the baby to drop in the next two weeks I scoffed inwardly. (And I wondered, how would I even know? Little Red had been so low from the beginning I didn’t notice a difference when he was considered to be in position, not to mention that he had been my first.)
Yesterday we went on a long walk with my in-laws around the neighbourhood and through several open houses. (It was a very eye-opening experience for them to see just how bad things really are in our nice neighbourhood as far as prices and quality.) I was totally pooped out when we got home, and my ankles were getting a little swollen, but I remarked to Paul how nice it was that my ligaments had behaved themselves well, nothing popping out on our walk.
We bid goodbye to his parents and went out for a drive. Suddenly I realized that the baby was moving in places I hadn’t felt since my previous pregnancy. Interspersed with walking and resting throughout the evening the baby completely dropped. I had managed to survive a high-riding pregnancy without too much pain in my ribs or lungs, but even more exciting was that I was actually alert and aware of the baby shifting into position.
Finally my pants can stay up, and I’m excited about that. But I’m even more excited to know that I’m 6 1/2 weeks away and things are still looking positive for a VBAC. Am I ready for the baby? Of course not, but we’re both getting ready.