As the title suggests Ozzy decided to be the wrong way for the majority of my pregnancy. This meant I got the delightful experience of feeling the full force of his kicks on my bladder at 38 weeks pregnant and occasionally having to sit bolt upright just so I could breathe around the giant head wedged into my ribs.

But let’s start at the beginning.

At 24 weeks after being head down at my 22 week midwife appointment Ozzy had decided to flip the other way. This hadn’t surprised me as a few days earlier when I was sat on the sofa the movement of my stomach and the sheer amount of wiggling suggested he had done so. The sonographer said it’s common for babies to flip-flop around but by around 32 weeks he’ll have settled into the correct position. And that was that or so we thought.

At my next scan at 28 weeks he was still the wrong way around but again I was told that there was no worry and that he had plenty of time and space to get his act together and flip. The lady scanning it even joked about my partner being too chilled out about Ozzy’s position, saying his relaxed attitude was clearly inherited by our son who wanted to be comfortable.

Cue growth scans every 2 weeks, all of which came back with the same result: Breech. To keep things interesting he’d occasionally switch between bum-down breech and footling breech, sometimes even sticking a foot into my pelvis just for a bit of variety.

At 34 weeks after my growth scan my consultant sat us down and wanted to discuss the elephant in the room….Ozzy’s position. He explained that there was still time for Ozzy to turn by himself. However, as babies get bigger, they also have less room to perform their gymnastics routines. The longer he stayed breech, the less likely he was to flip naturally. So he then laid out my options

1. Vaginal breech delivery

Technically possible, especially if I was dead set on it. However, there are a few requirements that would make it safer, such as having had a previous vaginal birth, having a low-risk pregnancy and not having a baby who occasionally decided to go footling breech. Unfortunately, I ticked none of those boxes.

2. A Caesarean Section

The consultant pointed out that Ozzy could be in whatever position he fancied as he would simply be lifted out via the sunroof.I’d spent my pregnancy saying that if I could avoid a C-section, I would. Recovering from major abdominal surgery while caring for a newborn wasn’t something I particularly wanted to sign up for.

3. An ECV (External Cephalic Version)

Otherwise known as manually trying to flip the baby from the outside.

He explained how an ECV would be carried out and the risk that if Ozzy got very stressed during or after the procedure he may end up getting evicted rather urgently via csection. He advised if I did want to go down this route when I came in for the procedure to have the hospital bag in the car.

He sent me away with a leaflet going into further detail about what happens in the procedure and the risks, but as we walked to the car I told my partner I was having one. It wouldn’t hurt to try, I thought.

In the meantime I searched ways to flip a baby yourself and thought bouncing on my yoga ball and doing hip circles would work and he would do what most babies do effortlessly. Flip head down.

Fast forward to 36 weeks, I went for a presentation scan beforehand to check whether he’d decided to move himself. Shockingly he had not. Then it was down to the day unit.

The lovely midwives there took my bloods so that there was some cross matched incase we got to the worst case scenario. This in its self was a mission as the number of blood tests I had throughout my pregnancy practically made my veins run away- plus the nausea of having them taken combined with my morning sickness (yes that never left) meant I would nearly throw up or pass out. But it meant I got a lovely bed, a fan found from some random hospital cupboard and a bag of gold bears.

The midwives kept me entertained and occupied joking about our age difference, being excited about my job in chocolate and dancing to musicals and early 2000s music. All of this while the consultant who was meant to be carrying out my ECV kept getting called onto labour ward.

I was hooked up to the monitor to check Ozzys baseline and make sure that his heart rate was normal and he wasn’t stressed out before everything had even began. He quickly met this and then it was just waiting.

When the consultant finally arrived, she ran through the risks of the procedure, how there was a 50% chance of him not flipping and ordered the muscle relaxant.

This gets injected and then they leave you for 10 minutes for it to kick in, as its meant to stop your placenta from clinging to the baby, meaning when the doctors move the baby, it moves. Now, I had always assumed a muscle relaxant woukd make you all floppy and relaxed.I was wrong.Apparently uncontrollable shaking is also an option. My smartwatch certainly wasn’t impressed with how fast it made my heart rate climb, but I was assured it was completely normal.

After the 10 minutes were up,  the consultant did one final scan (he was still breech) lay my bed flat down and piled on a mountain of ultrasound gel. A student asked if they could watch the procedure and I said why not.

And then it began, what felt like an eternity but was probably only 20 minutes of being squished around. Now I have a pretty high pain tolerance. This was not comfortable.

Ozzy was wedged with his feet and bum down in my pelvis, which meant she had to get his bum out of there. And then it happened 20 minutes of this lovely consultant attempting to pry my pelvis apart to pull this baby out. She couldn’t even consider flipping him until this had happened.

But with every tiny bit of movement as soon as pressure released he would just sink back down. All while I lay wincing in pain, staring at my partner and reassuring everyone that I was fine to continue. But after the 20 minute mark she had to throw in the towel.

She wiped off the gel sat on the rolly stool and apologised. They couldn’t get him out of my pelvis and they don’t like to go on for too long incase it stresses the baby out. She was so apologetic about how much pain she had caused with no result. But I reassured her I knew this was a possibility.

The unsuccessful ECV did mean she had a lovely list of instructions for me. As she had noted in the scan Ozzy was footling breech,which was slightly problematic. I was told if I felt any signs of labour to not wait for 3 contractions in 10 minutes to ring labour ward, but to ring immediately and say the buzz word footling breech, as delivering this way vaginally was incredibly risky for both of us. She also explained that because there wasn’t a nice solid head or bum blocking the exit, if I started dilating Ozzy could potentially kick his cord down or even stick a foot out.

Neither option was ideal.

Her instructions were simple: If I felt anything coming out, get into a downward dog position, ring an ambulance and if anyone tried to make me sit down tell them to shut up. And with that she hooked me back up to monitor Ozzy’s heart rate. Wished me luck and went back to labour ward.

Once Ozzy met criteria and showed he was totally unphased by all the squishing I was asked what I wanted to do. I could have a csection or I could attempt another ECV. And I sat there and thought it wasn’t horrendously painful a section would hurt more and anyway with a 50% chance of success maybe this one would work so I agreed to another one 3 days later on the Friday.

I left the appointment very sore, bruised at the bottom of my bump, but hopeful for Friday. Like an idiot I went into work the next day and spent it in pain, but what could I do.

Friday came around quickly but I had laid in bed the night before having a stern word to Ozzy about how he needed to turn himself around this time. Annoyingly I was just outside the 72 hours for my blood typing, which meant the lovely day unit midwives had to struggle to get some more out of me.

But then the process repeated a scan to check his position- still breech. Monitoring to get his baseline and check he was okay, then muscle relaxant and another mountain of jelly. This time I had 2 doctors working on the case and as noted in the scan he didn’t have his feet in my pelvis this time. So it began again the intense squishing and pushing as they attempted to manually flip Ozzy.

The good news? We got him out of pelvis. The bad news? He immediately got stuck under my ribs insted. Even with one doctor pushing his bum firmly out my pelvis and the other pushing his head he would not spin past. Then with any slight release of pressure he would move back to his original position.

The consultant even commented on how strong he was fighting against 2 adults to remain comfy. But then the 20 minutes were up and sadly Ozzy remained the wrong way. The consultant apologised for the discomfort she caused mentioned some more herbal remedies for flipping a baby like moxibustion and left.

Again I was asked what I wanted to do, another ECV or throw in the towel and just have a c-section. As I lay on the bed looking at my stomach the bottom bruised from the first attempt and the top going to be bruised from this one I’d had enough. I said screw it and they put me down for a cesarean.

I still held onto a tiny bit of hope that he might decide to turn on his own and the whole thing could be cancelled. Deep down, I knew I’d probably be meeting Ozzy via the sunroof.

After months of growth scans, two failed ECV’s and a baby who seemed determined to stay exactly where he was. I finally accepted that some things were simply out of my control.

My C-section was booked.

What I didn’t know at the time was that Ozzy had one final trick up his sleeve.