My Blue Eyed Boy

May 30, 15

My beautiful little Bruno is sleeping next to me in bed with his hands touching together like prayer and his plump but perky lips slightly parted, though he breathes through his nose. Sometimes Massi gets worried and wants to check to see if he’s breathing and I just watch them both, Bruno’s chest and stomach moving in and out while Massi worriedly sticks his finger under Bruno’s nose waiting to feel his breath. 

“Why do you always do that?” I say as I watch Bruno’s stomach pump in and out.

“Because he’s so little. I want to make sure my baby is ok.”

“No, I mean why do you put your finger under his nose when you can just look at him and see that he is breathing.”

Bruno still sleeps in bed with us, but he sleeps so well I don’t want to change anything. We get sleep. He never cries. When he wakes up and he wants to eat he just kicks me and waves his arms. Last night it was extremely adorable how he tried to wake me up, though if it continues my adjective might change. He lay on his back and raised both legs and then dropped them down on my stomach like a wrestling move. I didn’t flinch. He raised his legs again parallel together and boom, dropped them with force on my stomach. That was the first time he’s seemed to have such structured strategy about waking me up. Usually he flutters around and his eyes aren’t even open. These last few weeks he’s been oscillating between waking every three hours to sleeping sometimes six hours straight. I can feel a normal life creeping back to me and as I look back to the first month with him, I can’t even believe how difficult at was at moments.  

Sometimes he just stares at me, well a lot, and it’s the most amazing gaze of beyond love. It’s life. I am his vitals. He trusts me so much sometimes it's overwhelming. No one has ever put that much trust into me.

His hands are beautiful and I cut his nails every other day while I nurse him. Most of the time he lets me hold his hand awkwardly and snip away. He doesn’t even flinch if I accidentally get some skin.

His hair is growing in really slow and there is a little bald patch on the back of his head, perhaps from how he lies in the bassinet and stroller. His eyebrows are blond and his skin seems a touch strawberry behind them. We wonder if he’ll have hints of red hair. I guess Massi’s father’s uncle had red hair.

His eyes are blue, but a darker blue, not turquoise from a shallow Caribbean ocean but beyond in the deeper abyss yet clear like a crystal ball. More stunning than a sapphire. We will be shocked if they turn brown. He looks so much like a blue eyed boy forever.

Crawling out of My Cave

I'm sitting and listening to Led Zeppelin, typing with one hand while Bruno sleeps peacefully in my arms. This . . . us . . . Massi, Bruno and I, has been incredible lately.

I've arrived to motherhood 100% and I'm in love beyond everyday more that it's sometimes difficult to swallow. I even start thinking about the "what ifs . . . What if Bruno wants to ride motorcycles very fast. What if some kid at school bites him . . . What if he hurts himself? The evil curse of fear that comes with the depth of unbelievable love you attain from your baby love. I think I handle it pretty well. I think about how annoying it was when my mother was overprotective of me and I try to let it go. It's a challenging road to navigate . . . control, protection, obsession. . . especially as a mother.

Bruno is now three months old and he is just spectacular. He's started sleeping 6 hours straight through the night occasionally and I have him on a routine of wake, eat, sleep that occur in basically three hour rhythms. The structure and routine make it easier for us to communicate together and for me to feel more at ease about why he may be crying. Plus he recognizes that I'm in charge and he takes comfort with that. He really only cries now when he has to take his naps. He fights the sleep that overwhelms him and that's where I come into play and rock him and tell him it's time to take a nap. He knows what time it is, the repetition, the conditioned response of certain sounds I make when he needs to sleep.
In the beginning when it started working even I was surprised, but now we have such a better relationship. There is more clarity to communicate with each other because a lot of uncertainty over what he is feeling is eliminated. He doesn't have to ask to eat because I feed him every time he wakes up from a nap and his body has adjusted it's need to this schedule. Plus he will always stop eating if he's no longer hungry. This has decreased much of his fussiness and crankiness from either being overtired (because he will not regulate his sleep himself), or from crying over being too hungry . . .and the result overall has been one super smiles happy Bruno.

He is now eating his hands and will sit in his bassinet for an hour while I either cook something, clean, exercise in the living room, and recently I have even brought him into the bathroom while I shower. It's all about timing and I know that I need to start these projects right after he feeds in order to get the best results. It's been almost liberating and I no longer wake up asking myself, "what am I going to do today?" and have to answer, "oh, nothing." Now I have my master list of what needs to get done and I try to crank out as much as I can. I feel like I am crawling out from a cave I've lived in over the last year. It's been a cozy cave with bonfires and 'smores, but I'm so over it and ready for dresses, white table cloth dining, and glasses of wine again in my life.

Can I Have Both? Myself and Bruno?

"Will I ever get through this?" There are some days I question myself . . . after a night of waking every two hours to breast feed and at 4:30 a.m. Bruno decides that he really doesn't want to go back to sleep. Or perhaps it was one of those nights when I went to change his diaper and his little weewee hardens up and sprays. I reach for a wet towel and grab both his teeny ankles with one hand and raise his bottom to clean the leakage puddled underneath him. Now he starts to scream and wail.
"What's wrong?" I ask in that high pitched baby voice you just can't help speaking to them in. "oh my god," my tone drops to low tone. "Shit," I say and my voice raises in volume, hoping his daddy will get involved at 2:30 a.m., "you peed again, all over your face!" I want to cry with Bruno. It's the common tragedy comedy piece that comes with having a baby, so I've discovered.
But that's not the hard part . . . it's the bigger picture of the accumulation of lack of sleep, waking up at 6:30 a.m. tired, and knowing that there's no nap in sight. For the first two months Bruno would only daytime nap in his stroller on a walk. If I stopped moving he'd wake-up. That meant exhaustion plus taking daily four mile walks, two miles per nap, and the mid-day nap was an hour and a half session of Bruno sleeping ontop of me in the rocking chair. I would ponder, "how can I keep doing this?" and that's just the day. I look at the day now in its full 24 hour cycle broken into quarters. Late afternoon/early night is the most challenging. He would get super fussy, I would be super hungry and sometimes he wouldn't let me put him down to even rush to prepare something for dinner. His cries spoke of torture, painful physical disembowelment . . . they are hard for a mother to hear .. . .better to sacrifice myself than to witness him in such discomfort. The crying stops when I hold him. Has anyone ever needed me so much? It's beyond amazing. But I want to get through it. It would be nice to eat dinner. Not to mention the floors need to be mopped. The bedroom dresser has a half-inch of dust on it because it's overlooked. The bathroom is an uncomfortable dirty and mommy is always hungry. There's laundry to fold. The bills to remember to pay on time, and god how nice it would be to buy a new dress that fits my now d- size breasts and to wear lipstick again? Oh, the plants need to be watered, I sill haven't legally changed my name, Bruno needs a passport, and I need to pump my breast milk if I ever want to go to a yoga class or have a glass of wine. I am so behind myself with so much extra time and yet incapable of accomplishing the most bare essentials.
And then one day it's just all easy. And then when he hit two months old, he started staying in the bassinet and playing with himself. And then all of sudden during his fussy time he didn't throw a fit for a week straight. And the house is still dirty, but I bought a new dress and wore lipstick last night. I pumped and drank amazing wines and got solid sleep. Bruno is getting bigger and I am able to start doing a little bit more for myself and I made it through. My ass is still flat but it's starting to lift little by little and I'm hoping to now work on butt lifts in the middle of the day and I know it's possible. I have to admit, the first two months were very challenging, but right now it's becoming so amazing. I can actually start to have both: myself and Bruno.

"Every Mother Is A Working Mother."

"Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world, a mother's love is not." James Joyce

Mothers,

Let's teach our children the strength in valuing real love and honesty. Let's teach our children how to express themselves and their own truth -- and how to handle the world when they disagree. Let's teach our children to stand up for their beliefs because the world will always challenge them especially when they are unsure of what they are. It's just magnetism. It's just that there are a whole lot of assholes out there.

Everyday I wonder, how on earth did our world become so fucked up and dysfunctional? There are so many things that I worry for in my son's future that was never a consideration in mine. And then I think, well this is his world now and the greatest thing I can truly do for him is to lead by example.

Some days I find myself believing that I need to fill his every waking second with some type of learning. I get lost in the worry of wondering if I'm behind in sending him to special classes for children. Am I stimulating him enough? But then I say to myself, "let's be practical here. Bruno has to also learn to entertain himself and watch mommy do her thing around the house. This is truly where he will learn the most right now." How many of us have some of our fondest memories of our parents in the kitchen, or in their work spaces -- for example I used to love to hear the sound of my mother working on the type writer. I used to love to help my nanny clean the house. Who knows in which state the big world will be in when he finally takes his first step alone out into it, but until that happens I will do my greatest to teach him real love and honesty, which he can learn just by watching his mommy and daddy in the living room. I will teach him how to express his own truth and how to handle the world when they disagree, which he can learn by watching me interact with our community every time we walk out our door.

We don't need more money in this world to fix it, we need stronger values and those values start at home. Women are the most influential creatures on this planet. Perhaps we as mothers are so accustomed to sacrifice that we give our power and influence away too much. But this doesn't do justice to us or our children. We have unconditional love for our children but there must always be conditions. We cannot forget who we are as women in order to become a mother. There is a balance and a cross over and I look forward to having Bruno help me discover where they are.

I Try Everything Until It Works. That's What's Called Bonding.

I never thought I'd be one of those moms who guards her baby's sleep like a patrol officer. "No, don't touch him, he's sleeping!"
"Sssshhhhhh, don't make so much noise!" Evil mother eyes glare.
"Gooodddd!" I lament in a whisper, shaking my head, "Don't kiss him like that, you'll wake him up!" All of a sudden daddy becomes the perpetrator.
"If you wake him up you're going to have to deal with the consequences!!!" I've never threatened my husband so sincerely. He looked at me with fear.

What are the consequences? Usually they are the ultimate challenge of your patience and endurance; and usually daddy will always hand baby off before even entering round two. "Mamma," daddy has such a gaze of desperation, 'Bruno's hungry," he sings this as if to soften his defeat.
"He just ate!" I yell. "How do you think I know how to handle him? Because I try everything until it works. That's what's called bonding!"

But I'm not upset with daddy. He works twelve plus hour days, five days a week, providing Bruno and I the luxury of bonding together. But babies are twenty-four hour machines, like the energizer bunnies that keep going and going and going. I've learned a new meaning of perseverance. I've learned how persistence will lead you towards the breaking point -- the entry point -- even if something so trivial as trying to get Bruno to sleep in his bassinet during the day time takes me three days of trying the same routine over and over again. I persevere.

I've learned a new meaning and feeling of success. When you struggle for something so hard, like getting your baby to sleep in/on anything else other than you just so you can eat lunch or dinner, and you finally succeed . . .the sense of accomplishment is unrivaled.

I never give up, and I never assume that just because he was cranky during lunch, or in his bassinet, or woke up in the middle of his walk and I have to stop every five minutes to hold him until we arrive home a mile later . . . I never assume that he will repeat the same action again the next time. I never let that stop me from going out to lunch with friends, or taking another long walk. And when the hoped for moment that he is an angel happens, it's the best moment in the world. The other moments I call bonding time. The other moments of trying to comfort him in a million different positions I rationalize as muscle toning after a long pregnancy. It's amazing how moms do become like octopuses. I use my feet sometimes as often as my hands and have discovered that I can even hold things using the space between my neck and shoulder, using my mouth, my two feet together and even my knees. Basically . . . moms make it happen, no matter what.

My Name Is Bruno. Are You Feeling Lonely?

Hi, my name is Bruno a.k.a. The Italian Stallion. I'm bald, unemployed, and still live at home; in fact, I sleep in the same bed as my mom, and I love me some nice nipples. I'm very playful, and like a good Italian I'm very good with my hands.
Hmm, what do I love? I love women, especially ones with long hair like my mommy so I can grab it and feel powerful. I also love staring in their eyes while making poetic dolphin like squeals.
My shit don't stink and you can clean it for me in a few brisk easy wipes - but I have a mean fart, so loud  and fierce that sometimes mommy has to ask daddy if that was him or me. I can also give a great golden shower. My nonna calls it l'acqua di santo.
I have a double chin and fat rolls on my thighs that are creased so tightly if you pull them apart you can sometimes find treasures inside.
I'm a Pisces and overall a pretty mellow dude. I love attention but I'll make the right woman feel like a princess. I like long walks and to hold hands. I love music and dance, and to read books. My mom says one of my best qualities is that I'm in touch with my sensitive side and know how to express my emotions.
So if you're feeling lonely give Bruno The Italian Stallion a call. We can spoon the night away and I'll fill that dark sad hole you have inside with the warmth and light of my Italian pride.

To Love a Baby

I never loved a baby before. I always saw dirty faces, disgusting stained onesies . . .parents who showed way too many photos of their child, from every different angle possible. I couldn't really imagine changing diapers, cutting fingernails, suctioning boogers from their tiny noses or even just sticking a finger up there if possible. I truly never ever pictured myself singing lullabies or saying, "I'm mommy." I never would have thought that my husband and I would so quickly fall into calling each other daddy and mommy . . . and that it's kind of sexy.

To love a baby is like entering some type of Narnia and I must confess, it's happened to me. It's like a drug addiction and creeps on you with incredible doses of unexperienced ecstasy. Maybe that's what's so exciting, that at my age of 36 and a bit jaded, here is something so fresh, so unexpected, so uncontrollable, so humbling, so spontaneous and so filled with unconditional love.

I am now one of those who has a photo of my baby from every angle possible. I hold him for hours sometimes and just rock back and forth on the rocking chair as if we're lost at sea, smelling his baby skin, caressing his fine-haired soft head with the sides of my chin and cheeks and give him delicate kisses with almost every sway. The tenderness is immense and no other creature than your own baby can lure it from you so organically. My husband asks me, "do you think he knows how much me love him?" as he rubs Bruno's cheeks with his own and then gives him a big suction kiss.
"I don't believe you love me just because you tell me," I say. "Of course, he feels how much we love him."
"When will he start kissing?" My husband sounds as if he's in some type of desperation. This is what baby love does to you. You even feel pangs of love and joy when they fart in your arms. You rejoice together as parents every time they take a shit. "Is it a big one?" You scream to the other whose changing him. "Should we run a bath?"
It's insane. It's mad. Your life becomes secondary to this new relationship - to your new role - and you finally, finally, see your parents differently. Even if you "understood" them before, you now understand them differently . . .for better or for worse. Not every parent surrenders to the baby love. But when you do, it is one of life's greatest gifts of all. It didn't take me long to enter. And now I'll never turn back.

Going Back to Work Conversations Suck . . .

It's hard to imagine going back to work when only this morning my ass and back hurt from Bruno sleeping on me for over an hour. I tried to put him down in his bassinet but he instantly knows that's he's no longer on me. He starts to throw his hands up, squeal, and just overall disapprove of the situation. I pick him back up. If he wakes up now he'll be a little cranky pants for god knows how long. Better to have a physical pain in the butt than a literal one for the rest of the day.

Having conversations with hubby about going back to work is another pain in the ass. Even though we are both on the same page, and have thankfully or strategically discussed all important matters pre-baby . . . it doesn't matter. Not arguing at all with your husband after having a baby and everyone's hormones and sleep patterns are in upheaval would be like siblings not fighting with one another while going through puberty. We are just both the unlucky ones when we wake up and both are in a bad mood. Usually it's either one or the other and we forgive the other knowing we all have bad days, but there is no forgiving when it happens simultaneously.

"Bruno is getting upset," daddy says. We both walk away from each other. Thank god Bruno can be the reason to not undeservedly vent hormones and frustrations on each other. So we forget it, because it's not real. Daddy kisses me before he goes to work and I sit on the rocking chair for over an hour. I get excited thinking about all the amazing things I could potentially cook if I really could do something in all my new time off, and then I remember 'that ain't gonna happen yet'. I think about the exercises I could be doing, but even that is sometimes hard to squeeze in other than our daily long walks and my arm lifts pumping Bruno like he's a ten pound weight. Maybe I can play dress up and try on all my old clothes and see what I actually fit into, but I know I won't because my boobs are huge for the first time in my life and I don't even know how to wear them. They're not even those kinds of boobs. They're ones that I yank out in public if I have to and hold/squeeze between my hands to give better lift into Bruno's vacuum cleaner mouth. They're his punching bags, and personal property. Even daddy is cautious to trespass. My day passes as thoughts of physical movement and potential projects tempt me. What I do have are: many phone calls, delightful two hour walks sometimes twice a day, and zero late night booty calls; barely even a night cap to wet my whistle.

And even . . . surrounded by all these changes . . . these seeming limitations . . . these harrowing suspects of the mundane . . . it is anything but that . . . these are the best moments of my life.

You Might Never Feel Ready to Become a Mother Until You Become One

Bruno is six weeks old now and everyday he is a little different. How am I?

I think the same goes for me as well.

I have to remind myself every morning when the natural question arises "what am I going to do today?"  -- "ahaha, as if you could still plan your day," I laugh. But it's not always so funny. It can get difficult having a very small window to accomplish anything and even harder when you have no idea when that window will arrive.

And when it does, the fucked up part is that it feels strange. Today Bruno slept for an hour after coming home from our walk. I raced around the house to get chores done and when I finished with lightning speed I felt an emptiness. My boobs started to get engorged. My hormones started to drop. I missed him. I wanted to hold him, smell him. It's some messed up shit, these maternal hormones. And it made me think. . . I wasn't this person before he was born. I've been rewired with different hormones and emotions that come with motherhood. Which leads me to further conclude that it's true, "you might never feel ready to be a mother until you become one." Everything about your life changes and it's not only the lifestyle. Daddy (a.k.a. Massi) says almost everyday to Bruno, "Your mommy and daddy are better people because of you." It's strange how much what's important to you just shifts.

My Top Ten for Pregnant Women

1) Drink Lots of Water

2) Fight Your Hormones: This might be the only control you have during pregnancy and birth so start redirecting your energy and power into doing this. They are just tourists in your body . . they will leave eventually . . and they don't take the real you into consideration. If you need to explode or cry and your husband/partner is around, try to warm him: "I'm feeling very hormonal right now and I just need this moment to freak out and for you to be there for me and let me just have my moment." This will help, honestly, just a little, but at least you warned him. If you have any important issues you want to discuss with him, by god don't do it when you're hormonal. Have some strategy and wait for when you are feeling stronger.

3) You Are Not Eating for Two: Like I've written before, whoever started this myth is an asshole, so don't start eating like a pig just because you're pregnant. This is a time when you should eat very healthy and make sure that you are getting enough protein and vitamins. Don't over sugar and over starch for the sake of your own ass -- your body does not digest as well while pregnant so you are more susceptible to constipation. Any added displeasure while pregnant could just very well be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

4) Do Your Exercise and Start Squatting: You don't have to go crazy and start doing hardcore exercises at the gym, but you don't want to spiral down into longs days after days on your couch. Stay active, go for long walks, hikes, take prenatal yoga classes, dance classes and if you have it in you, you will benefit greatly by doing squats. Not only will you staying in good shape make it easier to get back into good shape, but you'll feel better during your pregnancy. . . . and most importantly this is how we help position our babies into our pelvis. When you're on your couch try and sit on your sides instead of your ass.

5) Do Your Research: Nowadays there are many different ways to give birth. Look into what they are and which feels best for you. Do not just put yourself into your doctors's hands blindly. Do research about the hospital you are giving birth in, for example, if your baby has complications after birth do they have the facilities or personnel to handle it - or will your baby have to endure an emergency transfer to another hospital. I've heard too many stories of this happening. Hospitals and doctors are not omnipotent and we all make mistakes. Once you become pregnant you become a parent - your child's life is now in your hands.

6) Hire a Doula for Your First Birth . . . if not for all of them: In my insurance case I couldn't pick and choose a doctor I'd like to deliver my baby - it was just a matter of destiny I suppose. Hiring a doula allows you to create a relationship with that person who will help you through birth, because most likely your husband cringes at the thought of watching the baby and all that blood come out of you. In my opinion going to a hospital to give birth without one is like going into trial without a lawyer. Doulas do much more than just massage and comfort you, which is very nice by the way. If you want a more involved birth experience, they will help you create a birth plan, try to help you get the doctors and nurses to follow it, and most importantly will help you make those important decisions mid-birth of when to not follow your birth plan.

7) Have a Birth Plan: Don't leave anything up to a nurse's or doctor's misinterpretation or your own mis-assumption. If you want to catch your baby ask for it. If you want a mirror to watch yourself pushing baby (because it helps, believe me), ask for it. I did not waste my time filling out the template birth plan I was given by my hospital. I wrote up my own very detailed one with my doula. It even states, "baby will room with us. No nursery." Never assume. I also asked for "delayed clamping of the umbilical cord until it has stopped pulsating; Immediate skin to skin with baby; No bath for the baby (they are born with this protective vernix that is extremely good for them); and to please delay all procedures until we've had bonding and nursing time." Those are just a few. I'm very happy I had a birth plan. 

8) Go To A Chiropractor: My doula/midwife was the only doctor who actually used her hands to feel the positioning of my baby. Around month 8 she noticed that although he was head down, he was also nudged diagonally inside me creating a sore spot for me above my left hip. She recommended me to go see Dr. Ryan Lazarus, a holistic chiropractor/nutritionist, who works with pregnant women as well. He didn't actually turn my baby or ever even touch him, he just focused on opening my pelvis. After one session with Dr. Lazarus Bruno's head dropped down into my pelvis and my sore spot went away. I continued to see Dr. Lazarus about once a week and I am happy to say that I never felt any back, hip, or pelvic discomfort during my last trimester. I slept amazing at night and was never in pain.

9) Due Dates . . . should be just a suggestion that your baby will most likely pop out around this week. Only 5% of women deliver on this date. What you do want to think about is that your doctor will start pressuring you to induce. There are much higher chances for an emergency C-section once you've been induced. C-sections are one of the most frequently performed surgeries in the U.S. Do not think for a second that our medical system is not dollar-driven.

10) Be Present . . . for each and every moment, second, and breath during this amazing yet challenging time of your life. Be wherever you are because you will most likely have to continuously rediscover yourself again . . even seconds later . . and you will never return to the YOU you were before baby was born. So enjoy your ever-evolving transformation.

This post was written with one hand, while the other hand is holding a sleeping, snorting ten pound baby, on and off, over a six hour period. I didn't think I could get it done!                                                                         

Baby Love Light

My Baby Bruno is now 5 weeks old and almost three pounds heavier than his birth weight. He is starting to be more cognizant, awake during the day, and curious about his surroundings.

I don't have as much time to write anymore because Bruno's grandparents are gone and I only get a few hours a day when Bruno will actually sleep in his bassinet for a substantial period of time. When this happens I have to choose between writing, cleaning, preparing food for myself, or taking care of domestic household needs.

I do have to surrender to the fact that the house is a bit messier and dirtier than usual. And I've completely given up thinking that I "should" be able to get "things done." The only thing getting done is taking care of Bruno's needs. Once I accepted that my life became less stressful. My husband works twelve hours a day, five days per week -- but I'm happy to say that the initial fear I felt over "doing this" alone is gone. I've regained my strength and overall just got used to be a mom. I never get frustrated by Bruno's crying, fussiness or cranky moments. Believe you me, I've had my fair share - it's his turn to let life drive him nuts emotionally. I know he needs me to be his calming lotion, so that's what I am. It won't last forever and I already miss it. The love light you feel waking up and looking into his eyes is magnanimous. A grand example is how my husband's caution of "just having a second baby" has already disappeared. At first he felt, "We need to have more money saved." "We need this . . . we need that . . . " But after five weeks of baby love light he said to me this morning, "Bruno is so unbelievable! I love this little boy so much," while holding Bruno with extended arms like an offering to God, "We need to have a second one; but let's wait two years, or one and a half. It will be a good time for you as well."

Of course I've always told him that this would be the way to go, and he always got pissed. I was pressuring him. I was rushing through things like I always did. I just wanted what I wanted without thinking it through. And now he understands that this was not the case at all. There are just some things in life you don't need to over think, you just need to do. Sometimes solutions don't emerge until you've stepped into the problem. Most of my life I've chosen action over thinking, or experience over waiting for the perfect moment. You learn as you go and you will never learn unless you go. When I first started this baby business I felt lost, scared, and completely alone. I cried multiple times while sitting at my table amongst a heap of doctor's paperwork or hand outs. I didn't understand any of the tests, the language, the process, my changing hormones or psychotic eating patterns. I still thought "you ate for two people," I still thought that having natural birth was the scariest thing in the world. I still thought that doing anything other than laying on a hospital bed on my back to have a baby would be super strange - I mean when have you ever seen on t.v. or in a movie something other than that? I had never thought that taking an epidural would also mean exposing my baby to the drug -- basically, I had never thought about anything.

I'm happy to know that I did it. It took a lot of studying, research and second, third, fourth opinions from many different types of doctors. Most importantly it took inner strength to stand alone and believe in myself.

New York Style Parenting Vs. Italian Style

Yesterday was the first day Bruno and I were completely alone since his first day home after birth. His Italian grandparents had flown in from Siena to help us, and to help Bruno, for almost a month. Let's just say it was a rougher day than usual yesterday. Let's review possible reasons why:

New York mommy's response to constant crying: "what are you a fucking pussy?"

Italian nonni response: Bruno is smothered with kisses and baby mimicking sounds/noises, Italian lullabies, while being cradled in his grandparents' arms at the first sign of discomfort.

Not to say that mommy New York style is harsh, but yesterday Bruno was crying out for the nonni who were no longer here and mommy was thinking, "I'm not a fucking octopus, and I don't have eight boobs either."

So we spent the day walking around my neighborhood in circles, breastfeeding more often than a devout catholic prays or feels guilty, and bounced on the exercise ball trying to get Bruno to sleep a million times. He would not sleep yesterday . . . and today, the best thing with newborns is that there's always a new day and a new behavior, Bruno is sleeping all day. And I'm starving because he's sleeping ontop of me and I don't want to wake him up because yesterday was tough for him, and now he is finally peaceful.

It might take a little while for Bruno to acclimate to mommy who is a little rougher around the edges than the Italian style, but I have the boobs, so I know I will be forgiven.

What I Wish I Had Been Prepared For

 
   
    I used to think wine connected people of all different backgrounds, but now I'm realizing that babies and children are a whole other level and whole other world that I had never entered before. I was never interested until I had my own. And there's so much to talk about, so much to relate to, so much to empathize with.
    What I have been discovering is that I was so prepared for having natural birth but I wasn't prepared for having a baby. You'd think you could just instinctively pick up a baby and live life, and in some ways you can - but like natural birth, if you have a better understanding of what to expect and physically, mentally, and spiritually be prepared for, it's not so difficult.
    Here's what I wish I had been prepared for:

• that postpartum anything is hard shit, not because psychologically I wasn't prepared for a baby, but because there are hormones from hell that seem to rise up from the dead and grab hold of you and make you feel like a day of living was a tempest to weather through. And your husband can't save you. Most likely he's experiencing some of his own postpartum hormones and will feel even more overwhelmed when you lose your shit. If I had truly anticipated that these hormones could affect me so strongly I might have been more open to letting them pass through me and just sit in bed and surrender.
• I wasn't prepared for truly being physically incapable of doing almost nothing other than breastfeeding, eating, and sleeping for two whole weeks. I've never been disabled by anything before, never had a broken anything, never spent time in the hospital for anything. My first stitches were the few I had from pushing Bruno out of me. If I had truly anticipated this, in addition to fucked up hormones, my first two weeks of recovery would have been easier. What I would do different is just truly accept that for two weeks I would need to walk around in a bathrobe giving my baby easy access to my boobs and just accept that I couldn't do anything other than that. I would just keep my baby in bed with me and let him eat and sleep when he wanted.
• I wasn't prepared for how often a baby would need/want to breastfeed. Doctors, books, people tell you every two to three hours -- yes, that would've been nice and easier to handle -- but for a newborn you never know what they are going to want and it's okay if they want to breastfeed all the time. If I had known this I wouldn't have been worried for a second that all he wanted was to be attached to me and that's okay. He's a baby who wants to be close to mamma. 
• I didn't need newborn size clothes for my newborn. He grew out of it in two weeks and it's easier to throw on a larger size onesie than a snug fitting one. 
• I wasn't prepared to be so hungry. Your hunger really and truly increases while breast feeding. 
• I didn't realize my ass would get so flat.
• I didn't realize that breast feeding would hurt so much if I didn't learn how to have Bruno do it correctly and I didn't realize that this wasn't just 100% instinctual.  There is strategy.
• I didn't realize that diapers can't always protect a little boy from getting completely wet from his piss and that I would be changing onesie's like I do diapers.
• I wasn't prepared to have such bad posture from constantly breastfeeding.
• I wasn't prepared for the deep and true exhaustion of breastfeeding every two to three hours 24/7 for a month. I now go to sleep between 8 and 9pm and wake up again at 11:30-1am, again between 3-4:40am, and then we wake up for morning coffee between 6-7am. 
• I wasn't prepared to give up my night routine of watching a movie with my husband and being able to eat dinner together.
• I totally wasn't prepared for Bruno not sleeping at night in any of the four different types of bassinets we have for him and that getting him to sleep alone would be impossible. He currently is starting to sleep in a little bed in the middle of our bed but I have to dangle my boob inside for him to suck on as he falls asleep. This also doesn't always work and some nights he's right back next to me with his face in my boobs. he doesn't seem tho have any problem breathing like that, or sleeping on his side.
• I wasn't prepared for the fact that this blog post is taking me almost three hours to write and now that Bruno is finally napping I'll have to take this opportunity to go eat something before he wakes up and wants to breastfeed and be on my chest again.
• Most amazingly and importantly, I wasn't prepared for how much happiness and love this baby would add to our lives. My world is more balanced and in perspective it feels. I want for different things that seem more important than previous more frivolous and vain desires. After having my own baby I fear at the thought of how many abandoned children there are in the world and it validates even more my thoughts of adopting a child. They are so beautiful, so loving, so soft and  vulnerable. My heart goes out to all the children who don't have a family to love and hold them. 

A Day with Brunino

    I'm no longer scared of Brunino. His cries, his squeals, his vulnerable little hands and vicious suction on my nipples -- I got it now -- I took back control and now he's only the boss 50% of the time. We've learned to compromise, and when I say compromise I mean I've regained my strength and can now function on breastfeeding every two hours if need be. And Brunino . . . he's gaining weight daily, up to about nine pounds now, and is about two feet tall . . . I'm no longer worried about him getting enough breast milk. He's a machine. He's a beast. The moment he knows I'm next to him he starts moving his lips in a kissing fashion but he's not offering any kisses like we are, he wants one thing and one thing only, my boobs. He wants to passionately drink milk and feel my nipple on his cheek, squeezed by his little hand, even up his nose, as long as it's in his way to feel and smell, then he's happy. And with his nipples nearby, my little Brunino hardly ever cries.
    In my opinion boys have always been so easy to please. It's just hard to recover from birth and adjust to the sleeping schedule and responsibility of a new mother.  It's scary in the beginning to imagine that everything that this little boy will need I will be practically 100% responsible for and therefore everything that I ever needed becomes secondary. In theory this sounds reasonable, because "he's just a baby." In practice, sleep deprived, bleeding, bed-ridden, wanting to just watch a movie and be held by my husband for my own nurturing and recovering and realizing that this now luxury might never again happen in the same way for years is shocking. There's no preparation for the reality of becoming a mother, and it all happens when you are vulnerable with hormones changing and just fucking with you.
    The difficult part is over now though and I don't even mind that my favorite daily routine of sleeping that extra half hour in bed while my husband gets up and makes the coffee for us is finito! Done! If I can get Massi to take Brunino, change him and comfort him first thing in the morning, I'll even be the one to make the coffee.  This hasn't happened to me in almost fifteen years. I'm never the one to make coffee, but it's a sacrifice for a gain.
    If Massi takes Brunino in the morning it allows me to change my clothes from being peed on during the night and to finally use the bathroom myself. Night time is a special moment for us. Bedtime typically starts around 8pm and this is my most opportune time to get about three good hours of sleep. I've given up trying to see my husband when he comes home at 10pm. Then 11pm - midnight Bruno will wake me up either by starting to make dolphin like squeals, or by looking for my nipple with his face. Did I mention that Bruno at the moment refuses to sleep in any position other than with his face in my breasts. This means that other than feeding him, I have to wake up every two to three hours anyway to make sure he is not overheating, because two big breasts full of milk can get hot skin to skin. Now that I have my energy back I've made the effort to sit up in bed and breast feed him instead of let him just latch on and off my boobs as he likes throughout the night. He was not latching properly in this method and I was practically crying with fear thinking about night time feeding. I realized that I need to help hold my breast and gently pull down his bottom chin to help him latch properly and that it took effort on my part as well, whether or not he gets pissed.
    I have to take a shower in the morning before Massi leaves for work, if I want the chance to ever take one, and then when I get out Bruno is ready to be changed and breast fed again. . . and the day goes on like this. If we try to go somewhere departure has to be timed for right after he feeds, and we bank on hoping that he'll fall asleep in the car. He will also poop and pee while he's in the car seat so we'll need to bring everything to change him. Then I'll have to feed him. He'll poop and pee, and the cycle continues. I try to slip moments of my old life somewhere in between the pooping and feeding . . . and the weird part is, it's not the same without him nearby. Even if I go into my room to take an hour break while he's sleeping, I miss him. I feel so far away from him. Even when I think about wanting to hold my husband and just lose myself in his arms, it's not the same anymore, I think of Bruno and if he needs me. It's the strangest and most life transforming event I've ever experienced and it happens like lighting.
    My left arm is almost dislodged from how I have to sleep with Bruno in my breasts. My posture is completely slumped over from breast feeding. Not to mention my neck, or that I feel like a marshmallow.  . . but the day goes by filled with moments of tender love as each breast feeding is never in vain. Bruno cherishes these feedings with unrivaled lust, pleasure, satisfaction, and tenderness. It's never just another feeding, and changing him is also an adventure to watch him watching me, to see if he's going to cry and go nuts or just sit back and stare at me with his navy blue eyes. Will he piss all over himself and his onesie before I can successfully change his diaper. It's an excitement and activity I never knew I would enjoy so much. A day with Brunino is unbridled joy layered with pockets of sleepiness, hormonal dysfunction, greater hunger than even pregnancy, and huge boobs I've never known before. I miss my husband, but we also are so fulfilled with sharing a son and discovering this whole new world together.

Your Namesake -- B.I.G.

Our Wedding Photos by Nicole Franzen

My Baby Bruno,
    Let me tell you a little bit about your name and its evolution. B.I.G. -- Bruno Italo Giovannoni.
    It all started too long ago; before your daddy and I were even married. After a year of dating in NYC, your Babbo and I moved in with each other and subleased a dear friend's gorgeous brownstone apartment on President street in Park Slope. We started a wine label  and wine export managing company together within a few months of living in Brooklyn and we came up with the name Baby Bruno for our first wine -- I'll tell you why. Your father comes from Montalcino where the glorious Brunello wine is made. Our wine, Baby Bruno, is made from the same Sangiovese used to make Brunello and Rosso di Montalcino, so I thought calling it a little Brunello would be appropriate -- and in thinking further, I took into consideration that Americans have difficulty pronouncing Italian names so I thought to cut Brunello short and call it Baby Bruno instead.
    Only in the wildest thoughts of mine did I ever consider that we would ever end up having a son and naming you Bruno . . . but the years passed by and we loved the name. We started discussing possible family names to give you if you were a boy. My grandfather's name was Julius and Massi's grandfather's name is Bruno. I thought if our first child was a boy it would be better to call you Julius because it sounded softer to say, "Julius please come here," then what I imagined calling or screaming your name: "Bruno, get over here now!"
    Your father had no doubts though. He knew you would be a boy even though everyone told him they thought you'd be a girl; and when your gender was confirmed, he said, "That's it! His name will be Bruno, like my nonno."
    "Okay," I said. "You can decide the whole name for our boy, but if we have a girl next, I get to decide everything."
    We weren't sure whether you'd have a middle name as it's not traditional in Italian culture to have one. I wasn't even sold on it until I was sitting with a girlfriend when I was about eight months pregnant and she said, "What's his middle name going to be?"
    "I don't know if he'll have one," I said.
    "Well," she looked at me seriously, "With the letters B & G, you want to be careful what letter you choose. You don't want him to have the initials B.U.G. or B.A.G."
    My eyes lit up. I wanted to kiss her. "You are so right! But B.I.G. would be amazing!" And so Bruno, embedded within your ultra Italian name is something very New York from your momma -- "It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up magazine, Salt'n'Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine" (Biggie Smalls - the Notorious B.I.G.) -- and I hope one day this will have some meaning to you.
    When I told your father, "We need to find Bruno a middle name that starts with the letter I, so that his initials can be B.I.G.", immediately he said, "Italo, the first King of Italy." Italo, in 2,000 B.C. was the King of the Enotrians who came to Calabria. At first King Italo gave the name Italia to Calabria and eventually that name spread throughout the whole peninsula.
    There is a lot from our hearts to you layered within your name Bruno. Your parents truly hope it serves you well. Your father didn't want you to have to go through what he did having a name like Massimiliano and traveling abroad. He said, "Bruno is the same in every language. In English it's Bruno. In French it's Bruno. In Japanese it's Bruno. Everyone can pronounce it!"

In Your Heart. In Your Hands.

   
    There is something magical that happens inside of you when you have your own baby and it is inexplicable.
    It's as if you see the flowers blooming and the sun shining like you've never seen it before, no matter how badly your nipples hurt from nursing.
    We took our first walk with Bruno into downtown Napa the other day, a place that has never honestly and truly caught much of my attention, and for the first time I looked upon the town with a deep wonder and satisfaction that had never stimulated me before. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. The flowers were blooming, and I hadn't been out of the house for two weeks.
    It reminded me of another very crucial moment in my life, when I was 24 years old and was driving back to America through Mexico after living in the jungle of Belize and the Caribbean for almost two years. I had left America with a lot of self righteous feelings and a sense of disillusionment with my country and that President Bush Jr. of the time - but two years in a lawless society where convenience was far from the way of life, shopping, industry, or culture -- and by the time I drove up to the American border from Mexico, I had never been so happy to see a Best Western that would allow my dog in the hotel room, to see a Subway sandwich shop and know there would be no surprises. I had never been so excited to see the generic American brands that have overpopulated our country and eliminated many mom and pop stores that I typically snubbed. It was an important moment of a true realization of relativity, which helped me understand happiness. "Stop looking so hard," I told myself. "It's right underneath your nose. In your heart. In your hands. You just need the courage to share it."
   

God Kissed the Land Where You Are From Bruno

    Bruno, "Very important," as your father would say . . . Sassicaia is a Super Tuscan wine from Bolgheri, Tuscany and does not have ANY Sangiovese in it. You must learn this at a young age so as to never embarrass your father, because you are a Tuscan young man, and there are certain responsibilities and a lot of regional Italian pride that come with the territory. As you are male, I'm sure this will not be a difficult trait for you to pick up quickly.
    Let me tell you a little bit about your father. I'll try to tell it like he told it to me. "God kissed the land where he came from and God also kisses the beautiful." So Bruno, expect a lot of kisses from God. You are a Tuscan beauty.
    "The Italian language was born in Tuscany," Bruno I guarantee you'll hear this one often from your Babbo. Your father will then chuckle, "what do you think? We are a land of deficente (morons)? The most famous artists and writers come from Tuscany," and the list will roll off his tongue like a lullaby, "Leonardo da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Dante Alghieri, Donatello, Galileo, Puccini, Verrazzano, Niccolo Machiavelli . . . it is the birthplace of the Renaissance!"
    But let's just be clear, you and me Bruno. This is not why I fell in love with your father. I am a New Yorker and have plenty of my own regional pride. I loved him first and foremost because of the honest tenderness and kindness he had in his eyes for me even when we were just friends. He was the most humble cocky Italian who insisted I walk in front of him so he could look at my ass and compliment it, and be 100% serious and 100% joking all at the same time. This is a skill he will work his hardest to teach you above anything. Your father is as real as it gets. In some of the toughest moments in my life he knew how to just be my best friend, and in the most romantic moments of my life he is the greatest love I've ever known. I'm proud to be a living example for you of best friends in love. Sure we fight, but above all we communicate, we compromise and we learn from each other . . . but recently Bruno, you are the one teaching us more and more, about ourselves, our relationship and about you Bruno. It hasn't even been two weeks but I think you learn very quickly who you are and how you handle life when confronted not by sharks or lions, but by a newborn baby.
    Like be very careful and ready for anything if you eat beans when breastfeeding. You kind of freaked out last night after taking the biggest shit of your life that spurt outside the realms of your diaper into the baby carriage. When we went to change you, your skin was all red and we were worried you were having an allergic reaction, but you were just pissed, and now we know you get red when you're pissed. Then daddy, who hasn't learned yet not to put you on the bed naked, even if he's laying underneath you like he was last night, was like a deer in headlights as you shit and pissed again all over him while your nonni (grandparents) rushed with napkins trying not to let the shit dribble off your daddy's arm onto our bed. We now truly understand that we always need to have a back up set of clean sheets and a blanket. We still don't understand how you piss all over yourself and us and the bed even when you have your diaper on, but we are proud of you because you must have a very strong penis, and this always makes your daddy proud, no matter how many times in a row he must change you. Every day is a new day with you Bruno and sometimes it gets draining, like around 4-6pm or 6-9pm when you have your fussy time, and that happens to be my fussy time as well, but aside from the regular domestic dramatics, our world is a whole new world with you. I haven't even had a proper glass of wine in about eleven months and I don't even care. You are momma and babbo's dream come true, you little Tuscan New Yorker.

My New Name Is Momma, But I Used to Be Called Jordana.

Dear Bruno,
    You know me as momma, but I used to be called Jordana. I want to introduce her to you because she was the one who journeyed very far and in between, all around and up and down, to make sure that you would be born into the most loving and safe environment.
    I've thought about you since I was just a teen. I plotted and dreamed and tried to imagine when would be the "right" time to have you. That was much more of a challenge than you might think. I'll tell you about it one day when you're older.
    I still wonder what type of career I will have and still be able to spend time with you? I want you to know that career and success are subjective and even cultural - and there were some moments in my life when trying to discover my path was hard and emotionally challenging. I truly believe that experience is life's greatest teacher and even though I know I will always want you by my side I hope you will have the same travel bug as me and your father. You are Italian American, and I will not be your Italian mom. I will not do your laundry for you for the rest of your life - this is Jordana speaking. I will support you no matter who you think you want to be as long as you are honest, hard working and kind to the world that shares your life.  
    You must believe in yourself. You must do this thing called "know yourself." You might have to take risks and make uncomfortable choices in order to get there, even if you are the only man left standing. Don't let anyone convince you against your instincts. This is your world now. You can be a first, and I hope you will.
    Jordana, I know already, was a little different than your momma.  She was more rebellious. She was more selfish. She was more vain. She wanted what she wanted and worked hard to get it. She grew up in NYC and is resilient like a weed. She loves to live in a world full of color and differences and is not afraid to just get up and move across country or the world. She loves culture. She loves people. She loves music and dance. She loves wine and good food. She hates processed fake American crap food and would like to spit on many companies and people, but she has etiquette and decorum. She believes in good manners and respect for her elders. Most importantly she has always led a full and interesting life and explored the many different sides of her character and passions. She looks at you and can't even fathom the life you, your daddy and she will have together . . . for this she is in a certain bliss . . . and ready to be called momma and no longer Jordana.

When Daddy's Fart Makes Mamma and Baby Cry

    It's incredible how hormones transitioning from pregnant to breastfeeding can be so intense. Every time I feed Bruno I need to drink water immediately in an instinctive reaction to dilute the hormones that stream through me.

    Bruno has a different feeding pattern everyday, varying from cluster feeding constantly and taking only short naps, to feeding every two plus hours with solid naps, to sleeping through the night with me having to wake him up to feed, to being fussy through the night and him waking me up to feed.

    My nipples are sore. My back hurts. At least my butt feels better. Creating a breastfeeding relationship with your newborn is no joke. It's also one of the sweetest things I've ever known. They gaze into your eyes with a hypnotic stare and no one else in the world could ever take their place.

    But it can get tiring if you really don't "sleep when baby sleeps," or just can't sleep because baby is not sleeping. This is what happened yesterday. I was exhausted. Bruno wasn't sleeping all day. He was cluster feeding and by five, six p.m. all I wanted was a nap. My head was about to pop with a headache. My limbs were failing. I had been feeding Bruno every twenty minutes to try and get him to nap. He'd fall asleep and then he'd wake up fifteen minutes later wanting to feed again.

    My husband and I were in bed. I was feeding Bruno and hoping that after he would actually fall asleep in his bassinet. We were praying. So far it was working. He crashed. Massi picked him up and put him in his bed. Three minutes went by and Bruno hadn't budged, sound asleep. Then Massi, reclined with the computer on his belly while I was snuggled in the blankets ready to pass out, farted so loud and long like a freight train passing by. This of course startled Bruno, who started crying.

    I looked at Massi with tears flowing down from my eyes, "Why would you do that? Why? Why?" He looked at me speechless. We both started laughing, and me still crying. Laughing and crying. Crying more than laughing. My world with Bruno. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I never imagined the most trivial things of life becoming in moments so darn complicated.

Where's My Milk?

    And then there's the moment, three, four days after birth, when you're like "geez, where's my milk?"

    Bruno after the third night began to get restless as well with just colostrum and became very finicky at my breasts, popping his head up and down against my nipple, "give me some milk!" I knew that's what he was thinking. That's what the grandparents were thinking, what my husband was thinking and of course me, trying to be cool and calm saying, "it's coming. It might take a little longer for me since I've lost some blood and am still recovering."

    And it came, after a long night and an unsatisfied son who was still so happy just to sleep by my side with his head in between my boobs. I've realized that something I paid so much attention to in pregnancy and in natural birth - which is to not over analyze everything - which is to not fall into the baby factory philosophy that all pregnancies and babies should follow the same timing, schedules, routines, growth patterns, relationships with their parents, etc. . . I realized that everything I had fought against before Bruno's birth I began to be susceptible to after. I was worried that he wanted to cluster feed, that he always wanted my breast in every waking second. I was worried that he wasn't falling into the "patterns" that newborns "should" fall into and now that I'm regaining my strength, my sense of well-being, sanity, energy, body, regular bowel movements, ability to walk -- now that my ass has returned back into my ass and it no longer hurts to even sit or take extra energy to smile and laugh - I am trilled to reconnect to my original beliefs that Brunino will feed when he needs to feed, and we'll discover each other's rhythms like we have already started doing. The only thing I try to do is wake him up in the middle of the night to feed him because I am lucky - so far - to have a baby that loves to sleep though the night!! Thank you Bruno. I love you.

"Who Feels It Knows It" (Bob Marley).

    I've heard it before from many mothers, "The first months are exhausting, get your sleep when you can. Sleep when baby sleeps."

    Nothing can prepare a woman for the exhaustion a new mother endeavors upon with her newborn . . . because it's not just from the hours spent nursing and being awake . . .it's also from the exhaustion of fear, shock, the unknown, the most awful thoughts that what if something happens to your little baby and you have no idea what to do to fix it.

    My husband and I got released from the hospital after a great first night with Bruno.  I, utterly tired and dysfunctional after his 40 hour birth was able to have immediate skin to skin with him  -- even breast feeding -- and then Massi had skin to skin with him for another half hour or so -- and then I held him again and breast fed. So we were confident after his first night of successful breast feeding and him sleeping on his daddy's chest for five hours that the first night home would be smooth. I didn't take into account our fear.
    We arrived home around 6pm Thursday and I really don't remember what happened until Massi and I discovered upon going to sleep that Bruno was not going to sleep alone for the life of him. We found ourselves changing diapers, putting on onsies, and not knowing what he should wear. What was appropriate for him to sleep in without putting him at risk. We found ourselves playing musical chairs between the bed, the bassinet, the changing table, the rocking chair, his outfits and I just at one point said, "Stop. We are the ones who are fussy, not the baby. At the hospital everything was set up catered for a new born. Here at home we are unfamiliar with our baby products. We don't even have the right size swaddle blanket to wrap him in. He can feel our insecurity."
    My husband looked at me and said, "You're right. We are the ones who are agitating him." This recognition helped, but we ended up with Bruno sleeping from my chest to his chest every two three hours or so - and this night time game is only just starting to improve. Yesterday, I laid on my bed alone in an effort for a moment's rest and the bed was shaking from the instability of my energy. I've had so much blood loss, energy loss, and complicated emotions oscillating between uncontrollable love and fear mixed together. I honestly thought I might love my husband a little less after the baby was born, only because the love for Bruno would be so immense, but I love my husband even more because of what we went through and accomplished together - and then on top of that, I look into the eyes of my son who stares at me like no one has ever gazed into my eyes, and who sucks on my breasts with a passion no one has ever transmitted to me and it's just so overwhelming.
    The second day home I lay in my bed with tears falling from my eyes in fear of thinking the unthinkable - "what if something happened to Bruno?" Especially after a forty hour labor and a ten month pregnancy - to bring him into this life was the biggest commitment of my life I've ever made - and the natural antithesis to life exists with each breathing second. My husband said to me yesterday, "like you've always told me Jordana, you can choose to see the fearful side of things or you can be in the moment and choose the positive. Let's just enjoy these moments together." I was crying in a deep hormonal exhaustion, already worried about next week when my husband will have to go back to work.
    It's a roller coaster ride like none I've ever embarked before, and each day with my energy increasing and hormones gradually returning back to decency it gets easier. I don't want to paint a negative picture of pain or struggle because it doesn't fall into that category. It's a fire of love you eagerly walk into because the love heals the pain - because the burn is more real than anything else that exists in this life. "Who feels it knows it lord" (Bob Marley).

Birth Story Part II: Day Two and Three, Bruno's 40 Hour Birth

    I'm still in a state of emotional shock from the amount of energy it took from me to give birth to Bruno and the immensity of love for him and my husband I am feeling now after the birth.  I must admit that for how hard I fought to have a natural birth and avoid an unnecessary c-section, after 30 hours into the labor, and many shift changes of nurses, midwives, and doctors, if anyone, even the cleaning lady had suggested, "I think a c-section is necessary to get this baby out of you," I would have raised even my right hand in agreement and said, "sounds great." Like my mid-wife always warned me, the hardest part about labor is exhaustion and everything about Bruno's birth, from every stage of cervix dilation that typically lasts an hour per centimeter, lasted three for me.  At hour 30 I still had no idea if there was an end in sight in that same day and it was only around 10 a.m. I couldn't possibly imagine enduring Bruno not being born that night.

    I'm so happy, so happy that I didn't cave in and that this potential was strategized against ahead of time. I had met a woman in my eighth month of pregnancy who had had natural birth with a midwife and I had asked her what one thing made the difference for her in getting through the experience. She said "my midwife and writing in my birth plan that no one ask me if I want to take any drugs, or tell me that this would be my last chance for the epidural. I would have taken it," she said.

    I now understand more why women don't really talk about their birth. Once the baby arrives you have so many other more important challenges to face and if it was anything like my experience it is the most overwhelming and yet absolutely amazing and powerful moment you'll ever experience in your life. It's difficult to talk about. I will never ever forget being in the thick of it after having decided with my midwife 26 hours into labor, after my contractions had started to slow down instead of increase, and the sun had just started to rise which threatened a further delay of contractions (for some reason daylight and birth don't usually harmonize) that now might be the moment we had talked about where taking Pitocin, a contraction inducer, could be THE thing to help move this birth to the next stage. I quickly agreed but asked first, "will I feel it as a drug in my body?"
    "No, you won't feel anything, but it will increase your contractions and block your natural hormones that help you through the contractions." I'm not sure if she added that last part in that exact moment, she might have waited to tell me that, but in the end, though maybe not then, I am happy that no one asked me if I wanted an epidural with the Pitocin.
    After taking Pitocin, synthetic oxytocin, I now truly agree with why I never wanted to start birth with it and still have a drug free labor -- it just kicks the whole contraction thing into a complete race car gear. Contractions that naturally come, roll in and peak at about 30 seconds and like a crescendo fall right back down over the next 20-30 seconds. The midwives and nurses constantly worked me through every contraction telling me, "climb that hill, you're almost at the top. You are stronger than it. You can do it." When the Pitocin started kicking in stronger and stronger as the dosage gradually raised, these one minute contractions would stream right into the next and perhaps have three rises/peaks without the fall, lasting three plus minutes. Sometimes when this happened my midwife would just remain quiet as I howled and groaned through them with her advice "drop your shoulders. Let it pass through you. Don't tense up. These are softening your cervix. It's pushing your baby down. Surrender to it."
    Surrendering to a Pitocin induced contraction is completely counterintuitive. I moved through a variety of different positions, sometimes laying on my left side, the "magic side," they said, or sometimes on my hands and knees, and my favorite was standing and wrapping my arms around my husband's neck, thinking how grateful I was that he was tall, and how amazing it was to have him there throughout every second. I drank water constantly, and constantly had to urinate, which was a love/hate relationship because by the time I walked to the toilet with my husband trailing me with the attached IVs, I knew another contraction would come either while sitting down on the toilet or rising back up. It was a race to use the toilet before the contraction hit so I could rise up against my husband to pass through them.

    I wouldn't have been able to have a forty hour labor if Bruno's heartbeat wasn't as strong as it was during the whole labor. Regardless, hours after the Pitocin, the doctor wanted to break my waters because I still wasn't progressing fast enough. Eventually perhaps at hour thirty I was ready to agree with anything. But the breaking of my waters did seem to help take labor into the next stage. They found a light meconium (baby poop) discharge in my waters, "not dark enough to cause serious worry," the doctor said, but the fact that it was there meant this birth had to progress. Luckily it did and I started to finally feel the transition into where it felt like I needed to take a shit - and that is an understatement.
    This was the dream come true. I was fully dilated and it was time to push Baby Bruno out.  As everyone got in position, me with my knees bent ready to grab each leg at a different angle, I first rejoiced at how finally the moment had come where I no longer had to surrender but to take charge and have some control and just push that baby out as hard as I could. My midwife had warned me, "when the doctors tell you to push hard, don't listen, you need to breathe through the pushing so as not to tear yourself." However, Bruno, who's heartbeat was so strong during the labor, dropped almost in half whenever I would push. The doctor looked at me and said, "this is not a suggestion. I'm telling you that you need to push this baby out of you as fast as you can." I looked to my midwife, who nodded her head in agreement and said, "just push as hard as you can." This was music to my ears. I couldn't believe this birth would really be over. I must have pushed that baby out with five or six contractions which spanned in perhaps less than an hour. They brought a mirror for me to watch which helped because once I could see his head crowning I had energy surging through me like wonder woman, I just kept pushing and pushing and pushing until this huge head came out of me and everyone started directing me, "Catch him. Grab him. Move you hands and catch him." And in seconds he was warm and pulsing on my chest and in my arms.

    How can I write it all? I can't. I couldn't have done this without my midwife who was there for me through basically every contraction telling me I could do it, even when I wasn't sure I could. I couldn't have done this without my husband whose love and support by my side through forty hours of labor made a world of a difference. I couldn't have done it without so many factors, and the one thing I will continuously return to is the importance of educating yourself about labor and birth. Don't leave it to luck or completely in the doctor's hands. It made an incredible difference that I had already understood the different paths a birth could take, that I understood the different options the doctors would give me, that it wasn't all just new information coupled with the most intense and new experience of my life. In the end I am happy I had a balance between a midwife and the hospital. I got to stay as close to course as my birth plan had asked for, but I also needed some intervention which in the end I am grateful for.

Baby Bruno and I left the hospital less than 24 hours later, both super healthy and tired . . . and now the real hard stuff begins. I see it already. I never imagined something as silly as changing a diaper or putting on a onesie could create so much worry in me - it's absolutely terrifying when you hear your baby cry or feel discomfort. My childbirth fears have dissipated and now every living second trying to make sure you baby is growing healthy and strong takes over you as if the YOU you always were, had never even existed.

My Birth Story: Day 1

It's difficult for me to even write - finding a moment without Baby Bruno breastfeeding, needing to just be on top of me, my own exhaustion, continuous bleeding, and pounding head - but I wanted to write this before I forget what happened.  I can now understand how the pain is so quickly dissolved by the new love of your own baby.

I can only do it in stages as I don't have enough energy or time.  Day 1 started with Monday morning, the second follow up visit to the doctor's office to perform non-stress tests to make sure Bruno, at 41 and a 1/2 weeks, was still in a safe environment in my womb.  I want to state first and foremost that I always intuitively knew he was.  The previous Friday our results from the first non-stress test were beyond optimal.

Monday morning we arrive to the doctor's office early.  Already a strange start was that after 10 months plus of seeing my primary gynecologist, for some reason they had scheduled me with a completely different doctor.  Massi and I went first with the nurse to do a sonogram to check my amniotic fluids and baby heartbeat.  Instantly after meeting the nurse Massi and I gave each other looks of disappointment, like who is this woman -- she was so different in how she performed these tasks than the last nurse we had.  We hated the way she placed me on the bed, the way she squeezed the warm gel on my stomach, the way she smelled, everything about this woman intuitively I did not trust . . . and immediately after doing a fast reading for amniotic fluids she told me, "oh, your fluids are extremely low.  You're going to have to get induced."  I tried asking her a few questions and she backed off and then started to tell us how healthy the baby's heartbeat is and that the doctor will speak to us about everything.

I don't have the energy to get into detail.  All I have to say is ALWAYS trust your instincts and get a second opinion.  The doctor didn't offer much more advice other than he suggested us go to the hospital that day and get induced, though he believed I was probably fine and could wait for natural labor to start because I was so progressed in every other way.  He just couldn't medically put his name on that recommendation.  He gave me a very aggressive sweeping of the membranes and sent me on my way.

We left the doctor's office in fear.  Crying.  Massi and I for the first time as parents had to come to a decision as a team.  This was not only about the birth plan I wanted, but about what my husband was comfortable with as well.  I had an appointment scheduled with my holistic chiropractor immediately after who advised us to give ourselves a time limit to go into natural labor that we were both comfortable with, whether it was only by the end of the day or perhaps early the next morning, just make a decision together and give yourselves a little bit of time to think.  I cried during the whole session while our doctor smiled and said "welcome to parenthood, this is amazing.  No matter what happens, induction or not, you are going to experience the most beautiful thing any moment now."  He then gave me an acupressure session and made an appointment for me with an acupuncturist to go to immediately after, as they are known to help naturally induce labor.

An hour acupuncture session, and a little bit more relaxed, Massi and I went home, made a few more phone calls and on some other great advices decided that we needed to just drive to the hospital and get a second opinion.  If the second opinion was that my fluids were really that low, I'd get induced.  The problem I had was never about getting induced, it's that I didn't trust my doctors.  If my baby was ever truly in danger I knew I would get induced in a second.

We had always chosen to go to a hospital in Santa Rosa, an hour away from us, because they had 24 hr midwives and a better feel to us than the Kaiser in Vallejo.  So at about 3pm with all our bags packed and ready for a possible night stay and labor induction we drove to the hospital without calling ahead and checked ourselves in -- I did have "low fluids" and was bleeding quite a bit from a second sweeping of the membranes performed in three days.  We were gratiously received and given our own birthing room.  We had to wait quite awhile for the midwife because she and the doctor were performing a c-section.  We waited about four hours to finally get re-tested by the mid-wife who hesitantly said that her reading of my fluids was normal.  Before the mid-wife had come into take my tests the only thing going through my head was the feeling that I just didn't see myself giving birth that night.  I thought to myself, they're going to re-read my tests and find that everything is ok.

The doctor came back into the room with the mid-wife and was so confident and at ease.  I really felt comfortable with both of them and if they had told me "you need to be induced right now," I wouldn't have hesitated, I would have said, "I'm in your hands."  The difference between their experience and the doctors/nurses in Napa was enormous.  The doctor searched around for my fluids with the sonogram stick and practically laughed.  I had such deep pockets of vertical fluid, it's just that the baby moved a lot so she had to constantly move around to find them.  She said, "you are fine.  You are so fine that I am signing my name on it and sending you home.  You're so close to natural labor that you'll probably start even tonight, but in case you don't I want to schedule you in for an appointment for induction by week 42, which is Friday."  She then gave me another aggressive sweeping of the membranes and sent me home.  I had an appointment to come back in thursday night if labor hadn't started naturally.

We arrive back home to Napa about 9pm, eat dinner and go to sleep.  I had spent a day crying because I knew intuitively that there was nothing wrong with me but if I didn't follow up thoroughly I could not live with myself potentially putting our baby at risk.  I was emotionally drained but so happy to be home. I really couldn't believe how difficult it had been to navigate the doctor's system to get retested.  I was just so happy that I didn't cave in to the fear that was instilled in me by my first doctor's visit and trusted my instincts instead -- coupled with the fact that we also were very careful and went to the extent to go into the hospital to get a second opinion -- they were all difficult choices to make in the moment . . . and at 3:30 a.m. that tuesday morning I started having my first labor
contractions.

To be continued. . . .