"Hmmm", he said. "50% success rate? Not at this stage I'm afraid. It's more like 25%."
As he ran the ultrasound over my belly, he continued. "The baby's buttocks are deeply engaged into the pelvis. And it's not a particularly small baby. Nor is there very much amniotic fluid."
Putting the ultrasound down, he said he didn't think the baby was going to turn - but it was worth a go. So have a go he did. It was uncomfortable and weird rather than painful. It did also make me feel a bit like I was going to have a wee - which would have been hugely embarrassing. It was also completely unsuccessful.
Mr Pixie told me that it had been worth a go, as he had successfully turned a baby in a woman who was 41 weeks and in labour. Then he said the next step was a C-section, the only question was when. But because I had eaten at lunchtime it couldn't be that day, and the next available slot was Wednesday. A full five days later. And back to the same 'if you go into labour, come straight in and tell them you're breech'.
We were at the hospital for about another two hours, having a long talk with the anaesthetist (who did not inspire me with masses of confidence with his talk of pain, side effects etc) and the theatre nurse. I was also given some anti nausea drugs to take the night and morning before the operation, and, somewhat more randomly some antibacterial wash which I was supposed to use all over my body including my hair to make sure I didn't bring MRSA into the hospital.
We left with a definite time by which the baby had arrived, feeling a bit emotional and disappointed, but pleased to have an actual date. Of course, it turned out the baby had other plans.
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