Easy Threesy?

Friends keep asking me how it’s going, having three boys now.  I have to tell them honestly I don’t know—Kevin is taking paternity leave and is doing all he can to make it so I can live in this fantasy world where I lay around in pajamas all day, surrounded by pillows and blankets and candles and holding a soft, sweet, newborn baby boy.

Today, however, Kevin went to work for a few hours in the afternoon.  My afternoon “alone” started off grandly enough.  Rocco and Leo both went down for naps and Vincenzo and I made a bunch of St. Patrick’s Day crafts and I started mentally composing an article about myself to send to Mom of the Year Magazine.  Things were going so well, in fact, I decided it would be a good idea to hook myself up to the pump for a few minutes.

It was not, in fact, a good idea to hook myself up to the pump for a few minutes.

Just a few womp-womp-womps into it, Leo woke up and started fussing.  Then I heard scream-crying from the kitchen and went running out to find Vincenzo with a Slim Jim, a pair of scissors, and blood everywhere from his hands to his underwear.  The Slim Jim itself looked as if it were bleeding.  As I was taking care of Vincenzo with a band-aid and a lollipop, Rocco woke up in a foul mood, screaming an angry-at-the-world scream and sporting in a thick layer of mucous from his nose to his chin.  I offered him a lollipop and got screamed at.  Leo switched from fussing to crying.  I put Rocco’s lollipop back in the cupboard and got screamed at even louder.  Vincenzo dumped an entire carton of yogurt in the kitchen and started crying anew.

Fortunately the lollipops kicked in soon after that and Leo just wanted to be held and the afternoon found us piled on top of each other on the couch reading books together.

It wasn’t perfect, I admit. 

But this is.



And I think it’s fair to say today was a great day.


(Michael gets credit for editing the second photo—thanks, BIL!)

Of babies and chickens

I don’t really think anyone has told Leo yet that he’s out of utero.  He so far just sleeps and sleeps, I’ve only heard him really cry a handful of times, and keeps all his arms and legs bunched up inside his clothes in a sort of self-swaddle.  I’ve taken to calling him Bunchy lately.

I go to strap Leo him the car seat and there is nothing to put through the various sections of seatbelt…just a head and torso to secure down.  Vincenzo likes to go up to Leo a few times during the day and check his sleeves, “to see if his arms have come in  yet.” 

He is so bunched up he more resembles a rotisserie chicken than a human baby.  So we did the natural thing that pretty much anyone in our situation would have done.*


Leo.  He was born with so much hair and so few arms.


*Photo compliments of Leo’s auntie and uncle, who might not have done this with their own son but didn’t hesitate to do it to ours.  😉

When you name a kid Rocco…

Anyone who has hung around Rocco for more than 15 seconds knows that he’s a bit of a loose cannon.  He is a strong-willed, opinionated, mischievous prankster.  He’s also hilarious and we love him to pieces, but holy crap I’m glad I’m not his brother.

Rocco loves getting Vincenzo all riled up.  He’s not a textbook bully—he won’t push or shove or bite his brother.  He’ll just casually sidle up to him, extend one tiny finger, and gently touch Vincenzo on the arm. 

Vincenzo goes ballistic.

I think it’s a game Rocco’s invented himself to see how little he can do to make Vincenzo hit the roof.  I find myself getting after V more than R because seriously.  Man up, Vincenzo.

Rocco is always quick with the apology.  “Howwy Dendo!  Howwy!  Howwy!”  In fact he’s so programmed to apologize that last night, when the boys were on opposite sides of the room and Vincenzo started spontaneously crying about something, Rocco started furiously apologizing.

So he’s got a guilt complex.  And a well-deserved guilt complex, at that.  Maybe that explains why, when Rocco looked up at the sky and saw a helicopter the other day, he said matter-of-factly, “They’re coming for me.”

Fortunately it wasn’t his time yet.  But just to be safe, I’m going to keep Rocco close the next time a helicopter flies by.

Three is a magic number

Rocco last night heard me say to Leo, “Are you hungry, Baby?  Do you want some milk?”  So Rocco hopped off the couch, got a plastic cup from his drawer, and ran over to the refrigerator to get Leo a glass of milk.

Then he returned to his normal state of completely failing to notice his baby brother’s existence.


Vincenzo has been pretty sweet with Leo—he only fails to notice Baby Brother’s existence 75% of the time.  Sometimes we can get V to hold Leo.  He cradles his head and pets his arms and says, “His clothes are so soft they feel like fur!”  There’s been a lot less holding, though, since Leo did a very loud poo while in his big brother’s arms.


Kevin doesn’t get much out of holding Leo, and when he does hold the baby he’s usually making him do the moon walk or Thriller dance, which Leo responds to by completely sleeping through.

All this means that I get to hold Leo pretty much all the time, which is exactly what I’ve been doing.


Except, of course, for his daily photo shoots which he also, coincidentally, completely sleeps through.

MrsMouthy, The Unpregnant

When I woke up a week ago today, I was a cranky, anxious pregnant lady.  When I wake up today I am a tired but blissfully happy new old mom.  I have a real live doll to play with all day!  And even though that doll wants to be played with at 2AM and also does some things to my boobs that my childhood dolls never did, he’s still pretty friggin’ awesome.


I’m glad I’ve passed the Day of Engorgement, where it looked like Leo was trying to nurse on Epcott Center and I felt like I had two cantaloupe-sized bruises on my chest.  Now that things have settled down there a bit I look less Fem Bot and more Past-Her-Prime Porn Star.  I’ll take it.


I have been shamelessly taking advantage of every family member around here to make it so that I spend my days in pajamas, in bed with soft blankets and an even softer baby.  I take breaks sometimes to take pictures of Leo and then edit them, then I go back to just holding him.  They say you can’t spoil a baby…but apparently you can spoil the mom.  I’ll probably grow up to be a rotten brat.

(Kevin took this picture of me in my new “office”—Leo is under the covers.)

And now I must return back to my fantasy world because it’s only going to be here for another week or two before I will have to trade in my pajama pants for mom jeans and realize that all three kids in this house do, indeed, belong to me.


Leo’s Hypnobirth

So…did I do it?  Did I go natural?  Does anyone but me care?  Too bad if you don’t; labor story follows.  So do some unflattering but honest pictures of me in labor also follow.*

Guglielmo’s induction was scheduled for Friday morning at 5AM.  All week I kept hoping my body would go into labor naturally but even a very pleasant stripping-of-the-membranes didn’t yield any results.  On Thursday I went in for a Foley catheter in a last-ditch attempt to get this party started and I was so happy when my back started hurting within the hour.  The backache is always my first sign of labor.

Hypnobabies teaches you to welcome the feeling of contractions, as they are helping your body—not hurting it.  It was easy to welcome these ones all evening; they were actually kind of cute and could be forgotten about by placing a hot pack on my back.

The contractions started to feel more real around 10, coming about every 10 minutes and requiring some deep breathing to get through.  I put on some Hypnobabies and felt a little less anxious because the hypnosis really did make the contractions easily bearable; I actually fell asleep for an hour or so, right through the contractions. The night continued that way, with me alternating Hypnobabies and world music, plus a break to fix my hair (there will be cameras at the hospital!) and give myself a manicure.

At around 3AM the contractions got notably stronger and I couldn’t talk through them. I spent them contractions crawling position, rocking back and forth and trying to breathe deeply and relax…release…relax…as my CDs have been telling me. I started worrying that I might be in false labor, as my Foley hadn’t fallen out, and every time a contraction hit it hurt so bad I told myself, “Who cares if I get an epidural? I don’t have to prove anything!” But then I noticed that in the breaks between contractions I was fine and it hadn’t seemed so bad.  I noticed all I had to do was take about four deep breaths for each contraction and then it was over, so I just kept telling myself, “It’s not so bad,” and suddenly it wasn’t.  Really!

Anyway, I decided I’d just wait for my induction appointment at 5 to go to the hospital, since it was probably false labor anyway. We packed up and headed out at 4:45, me tuned into Hypnobabies and Kevin his usual cool cucumber of a self.

I was still in a lot of pain (“discomfort,” as Hypnobabies calls it) and having to get onto all fours during contractions while we waited for the nurse who would induce me to come get us. She walked us down to the room, waiting for me during contractions, and I could see the vials for pitocin laid out on a tray at the end of the birthing bed. I heard her make a phone call and say the induction wouldn’t be necessary because the mother is in active labor. I couldn’t believe my ears…she hadn’t checked my cervix yet, but she was making the call? This wasn’t false labor?!


Once I got into the bed the nurse checked me and said, “Looks like you’re at 7 or 8 centimeters.” HOLY CRAP. I was doing it!  I was really doing this! On my own!!!! I was going to make it!!!!!!  I was hugely, HUGELY relieved and also fairly incredulous, as I’ve never checked into the maternity ward farther than 4 centimeters before.

It took about a half hour for them to get things hooked up (fetal heart monitor, contraction monitor, IV for Group B Strep antibiotics, etc), and then I was able to plug into a Hypnobabies CD again and focus all my energy on relaxing and breathing. It’s kind of crazy to have to be so intense about relaxing, but it was working. I was in transition now and each contraction would take about 8 deep breaths.  3 of those breaths seemed unbearable, but the other 5 breaths I could believe, like the CDs said, were relaxing. I kept thinking of it as the good kind of pain—as opening the way for the baby, as rubbing out a kink.


The contractions stepped it up another notch and I started “ohhhhh’ing” and “ahhhhhh’ing” during them.  I could hear the nurses whispering to Kevin how  calm and in control I was. I kept my eyes closed and just kept trying to relax, though it was getting harder and harder. My hands went numb all the way up to my elbows for awhile from the deep breathing, so they gave me an oxygen mask that helped immensely.


I could feel the slightest urge to push so the doctor checked and I was at 10 centimeters during contractions. I opened my eyes long enough to ask, “Can I start pushing?” She answered calmly, “Whenever you feel ready.” It all felt so calm and peaceful, even though there was some crazy pain going on. It was manageable! It hadn’t been on my last pregnancies, but I was breathing deeply and it was manageable!!

I had a lot of strength on my first couple pushes. My contractions were still going strong but I was able to push through them. I had a hard time staying relaxed while pushing, though, which is something I realized I needed to do. Without being able to focus solely on breathing and staying calm, my uterus and everything down there started tensing up and fighting the push.

Fortunately my contractions started to get a little less painful, and also fortunately all the positive messages from Hypnobabies started coming back to me. I felt like I was kind of out of body, or like I had just passed out and people were helping me come to. I was registering what they were saying but through a haze. I started whisper-yelling, “PEACE…PEACE…PEACE…” just like I had been trained to do, and “I am in control,” “My body knows just what to do,” “I don’t have to do anything—just let my body push this baby out,” and something not on the CD’s: “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!!”

I had a moment of panic in there that I couldn’t do it, that I didn’t know how, and why wasn’t somebody helping me? Couldn’t they just pull the baby out for me? They kept telling me I was pushing wrong, that I was pushing through my legs instead of pushing straight down. That’s when I freaked out and stopped the deep breathing and got wild eyes, and then Patty, the head nurse, got right in my face and said, “Rachel, you are in control. You’ve got this and you are in control.”

And instantly I was.

I listened as the birthing team told me to push straight down and to curl around my baby instead of arching back. It felt unnatural but they were so calm and firm and I trusted them. I curled up and pushed and pushed and pushed.  It had only been 15 minutes but I already felt like my resources were so drained, like I might die with a stuck baby.  I could feel his head—it was right there—but I couldn’t envision pushing such a big thing out.

Then I told myself clearly in my head that no one was going to pull this baby out of me. It’s up to me to push, and even though I’m tired and it hurts there’s only one way to get untired and unhurt, so DO IT. I held my breath and pushed with energy I didn’t have. I could feel him crown. I held my breath one more time and pushed and pushed and pushed and PUUUUSSSSSHHHHED!

And wow, WHAT a feeling that was. To know I wasn’t going to die of a stuck baby I wasn’t pregnant anymore and I did it. I did it!!!! I DID IT!!!!! It was done and I could relax without trying anymore and suddenly I was holding my gorgeous, healthy, red baby on my chest.


I turned to Kevin and asked, “Did this really just happen?”  He answered, “Yes.”

And yet it still feels like I am living in a dream.



*Thanks, Michael, for coming to the hospital at 6AM and bearing all the mess of childbirth to take such beautiful pictures!  I love having all the pain and joy and wonder captured so artfully.

Looking for baby pictures?

Neiner neiner, no baby yet. 

My unladylike problem is still very present in my nether regions, so eating is no longer about what sounds good but about what will get the most fiber into my system.


Snack (brought to you by Flax 4 Life):

Lunch (mixed in a salad if I’m feeling ambitious; otherwise sometimes straight from the can)

And usually I can eat a normalish dinner.  Thanks to this diet I haven’t used the words “hard” and “stool” in the same sentence for weeks, as I have neither had one nor been able to sit on one.  The bad news is that there are a lot of running-to-the-bathroom emergencies, with Kevin yelling behind me, “Check for the baby before you flush!”  I’m thinking of reopening the application process for birthing partners.

Then again, if fiber is having the same effect on the baby that it is on my stomach, Guglielmo is going to come out a little on the liquidy side.  You may not want to apply.

Too gross?