On Wednesday, May 4, 2005, at 7:48am, Giovanni Alfio was born. When I was informed of his weight (7lbs, 11oz), the smartass in me responded with, “I thought I was having a baby, not a convenience store!
For the most part, it was a pretty easy pregnancy even if mealtime was a nightmare: EVERYTHING made me nauseous. Considering how much I love to cook, this was nearly devistating and I was thrilled beyond belief the first time I was able to prepare something without feeling like I would add a little “special” ingredient.
Also, at one point, I had to be put on antidepressants thanks to a custody dispute with my ex-husband, but that’s another post entirely. Anyway, the last couple of months was when all of the fun began…
I saw the doctor for a regular visit and told her I was feeling “off”. She did a physical exam and discovered I was slightly dialated, but wasn’t concerned since this was no where near my first pregnancy. “Your body knows what it’s doing so it’s getting ready.” She sent me home with instructions to rest and she’d see me in a couple of weeks. Sounds reasonable, right?
A couple of days later, I was in the Women’s Center at the hospital (ER for preggos) thanks to regular contractions and being monitored. I was released after a few hours and once again told to rest.
This was a regular pattern for the last six weeks. Each visit with the OB, I would ask for a late term ultrasound to check position because I felt something was wrong. And at each visit I was told he’s in position and everything looked good. Oh, and to rest.
Finally, May 3rd rolled around (I was due May 1st) and it was decided to admit me. I remember being poked and prodded and told to get comfy because we were in for a long labor. (How do they know these things?) And, after being hooked up to all of the monitors and FINALLY finding a decent position where there seemed to be minimal discomfort, I was able to settle in and wait. I didn’t get any sleep because I was too excited. Afterall, I was finally going to get to meet the little man who kept stretching and kicking and interferring with my ability to get rest.
We even have video of me joking around after I had received my epidural and it still bothers me because of later events.
Finally, around 4am, the final prep was completed and it was almost time for me to start pushing. And damn did I push…for over two hours…BEFORE the doctor decided it wasn’t working. It was then decided it was time for an emergency c-section.
I remember everything. I had hoped I was numb enough and wouldn’t feel the incision. I had hoped he was okay. I had hoped we remembered to lock the front door as we were leaving the previous day.
“We’re in.” (Doctor removed Gio, suctioned his nose and mouth, cord was cut and he was handed off to a nurse.)
“Where’s the blood coming from?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find it. She’s filling up quick.” (long pause) “I got an artery.”
During this exchange, I tried to remain calm. They didn’t know I had heard, but I knew getting upset would only make the blood pump faster. I was so tired (massive blood loss does that, ya know?) and it was difficult to remain conscious, but I was afraid if I gave in, I wouldn’t wake up.
Luckily, despite looking like someone had put a party hat on him crooked (remember, I pushed for over two hours because he was stuck), the baby was fine and I was only in the hospital for four days (standard for c-sections) since my blood count stabilized rather quickly. Unfortunately, my mother-in-law passed away while we were there so our first major outing was for her funeral when he was a week old.
For all intents and purposes, Gio is a happy, friendly, healthy, normal little boy and there isn’t any indication of the trouble he caused just trying to make his entrance into the world. Now if I could only figure out how to get him moving in the morning so getting ready for school isn’t such an experience…
Pollyanna's Perspective 
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