My Baby is a Butthead
10 things to do when your kiddo is breech and you’ve been on bed rest for 6 weeks.
This is the most effective way of releasing frustration. Convenience factor is high. It can be done anywhere. Bonus points for pitch, clarity, and duration.
This technique should be done sparingly with other humans, but copiously to your journal/blog/vlog/written/spoken word outlet.
Use all the pillows. The wedge. The long one. The squishy one. The hard one. All at once or one at a time. Prop your body into weird angles that will encourage baby to “flip”. Bonus points if you live in an apartment that faces another apartment where young people with no kids can watch you do this in your robe while eating Cheetos after not showering for 3 days and be confused/grossed out/suitably impressed.
It will be terrible. You will get restless leg syndrome in your whole body while being told to “just let your mind drift away” with needles sticking out of your body. You will complain the whole ride home but then fall asleep spooning the giant stuffed animal bear on your couch for the best sleep of your life.
Gently nudge/poke/prod your kiddo in the head/butt/feet/unknown body part to try to coax him to turn over. Violence is discouraged. Silly voices are mandatory.
Have your husband/partner talk/sing to the bottom of your belly through a toilet paper roll to try to get the baby to “follow the voice”. Take 5,000 photos of this in an attempt to find one that is insta-postable only to conclude that it all looks too much like weird pregnancy porn.
Comment on how many “spinning babies” techniques look like weird pregnancy porn. Comment on how ironic it is that sex has led you to never having sex again, possibly for life.
Applies to subjects on bed rest or with other medical complications who, upon asking their doctor about sex, were chuckled at and told to “improvise” (improvise means: no sex.), subjects who can’t find their vagina anyways because it’s too far away and blocked by the basketball they swallowed and/or hidden in the jungle of “haven’t shaved in weeks because can’t reach/don’t care”, and subjects who…just…all of you. All the subjects. Goodbye, sex.
Unlock the new low personal care level “cave woman” when you excavate a bobby pin out of your hair that has been there for at least a week judging by the amount of rust. At least you washed your hair. Well done, you. You’re doing fine.
Simultaneously want to punch your husband in the face when he says in passing “If this happens again with the next one at least you’ll know what to expect!” and want to hug him for eternity, because he still wants to have “another one” with the crazy, crying, robe wearing, no sex having, cave woman you have become. Think about the tiny human you created (it’s hard not to, as he is currently head-butting your ribs while drop-kicking your cervix). Imagine what he’ll look like and what will make him laugh. Visualize kissing his tiny head and nibbling his wiggly baby fingers and toes.
Do you have any suggestions for what to do on bed rest? Or how to flip this babe?