And I've taken photographs of it, but I have yet to bother getting out my lappie which has all the photo software gubbins on. Hey, bear with me, it's a relatively old camera (phew, all of.. two years old at least!).
Yes, the birth pool is up, clipped together and currently sitting in the front room, which has a delightful plastic sheeting flooring.
All this, and it could be for nought if she doesn't get out of damned breech. I can barely contain my bitter anger that I really do think it was the amazing-elastic-cosrset-thingy what done it. It pushed her out of my lower abdomen and back up in to the rest of my belly. Next thing you know, no more kicking the hell out of my rib cage, and a familiar head shaped object jutting in to my stomach. that would explain the increase in heartburn again.
The thing that I hate is that there's no one I can blame. If I lie down, I can barely move my right leg without going in to paroxisms of agony. Of course I was going to go to the physio. But they obviously haven't done any research in to breech figures for women wearing these bloody things or they would have warned me. Now, I'm stuck in the position of very possibly causing myself to have a major operation. Fuck! Ok. If I have to have it, I do - I'm not going to screaming in the corner and try to avoid it but frankly.... GOD FUCKING DAMN IT*.
I will phone Penny the Acupuncturist tomorrow but God knows what goods that'll do. More good that sitting around doing nothing, possibly. Marginally possibly.
*I'm rethinking this phraseology. Frankly, it doesn't put my abject anger and dissapointment in to perspective. Listen - when it comes down to it this might only happen once. There's a strong possibility that that is the case. So, here I am, planning the best possible environment to have my child in, for us to be able to go, wrapped in towels and snugs and sleep in our own bed within minutes of her arriving in to this world, to wake up with her snuggling beside me and wanting to feed instead of being in a bloody plastic fucking tray next to a hospital bed and .... all of that. All of that. Going. All because of my STUPID fucking USELESS body that can't even keep it together for the pregnancy so I go and do the stupidiest thing possible... what an idiot. Moron. But how was I supposed to know? Why didn't anyone know? Why didn't anyone bloody TELL ME.
Sorry about all the swearing, Tod.