Anthony Michael

Our miracle made his debut into this world on January 16, 2020 at 2:17 AM. Anthony Michael weighed 7lbs 15.5 oz, and was 21 inches long. From beginning to end, his arrival was a whirlwind, one I am still trying to wrap my head around and process. I still find myself looking at him in disbelief. Is he really ours? How did we make this perfect little boy?

Anthony was a week late. I wish I did a better job mentally preparing for a procrastinator. Waiting for his arrival was the most challenging part of my entire pregnancy. I was scheduled to be induced on the 15th, our 41 week mark. I was having plenty of braxton hicks contractions that final week, and finally started to feel the ‘discomfort’ everyone talks about. I was exhausted, and my patience was dwindling. On Monday (the 13th) I started to have time-able contractions that felt pretty intense, or more than I was use to experiencing at that point. I thought, maybe I have a high tolerance for pain? Since my contractions were about 4 minutes apart, I thought it would be a good idea to go to the hospital and get checked out. By the time we got to the hospital, I knew in my heart, it was not time, but since we were there, we decided better safe than sorry. We got checked in and our nurse, Kari hooked me up to the monitors. The midwife came in shortly after to check my dilation. I was having time-able and strong enough contractions, but I was not dilated… at all. So they sent me home. I felt so defeated, and stupid. Reflecting on that time now, I wish I could tell myself there is nothing wrong with playing it safe. I had nothing to compare it to. How was I supposed to know if it was go time or not? Everyone tells you … You’ll know. But then there’s those people who are also delivering babies in their closets, and on the side of the road… and I had zero intention of being one of “those” people.

Around 1:30 AM on Wednesday (the 15th) I woke up with some serious pressure, aches and pains. Let’s just say it made Monday’s ‘contractions’ laughable. I could hardly talk. Every ping and pang took my breath away. I knew it was showtime, but I was also still bitter about being sent home, and did not want that to happen a second time, especially when I was scheduled to be induced in just a couple of hours. I wanted to feel as much discomfort as possible under my own roof. I woke Michael up to give him the heads up, and before I could get out my game plan he was up showering, and packing the car. I told him to slow down. I wanted to wait it out as long as I could. We ended up falling asleep downstairs on the couch with our dog. For a hot minute, our cat, Rajah even made an appearance. I remember lying there thinking to myself this is it… Our last night, just the four of us. We made it to 5AM, and I was scheduled to be induced at 6AM. I got changed, brushed my teeth, and off we went.

It was an incredibly weird feeling, to know the next time I came home, I would have a baby in my arms. We were serving our little one the eviction notice and forcing him or her out whether they liked it or not. Unlike others who have spontaneous deliveries, we were able to actually go out, enjoy a final date night together, and go to sleep knowing that when we woke up, our lives would never be the same.

We arrived at Mainland hospital, and started to unpack our 40 bags, when all of the sudden someone shouted from their car window, “Are you going into labor too?” I just said “yes” back, not knowing who the heck I was talking to, and why they were asking. It wasn’t until we were inside, checking in that one of our friends from down the street came wobbling in. She was in labor, a week early (lucky). This was their third kid, so they had just one duffel bag, and definitely got a chuckle at our loads of luggage. *More on what you really need to pack in the next blog!*

6AM sharp we were in our room, and checked in. The nurses kept alternating through the door, checking all of my vitals, filling out my registration and paperwork, and going down a list of questions. At one point, Michael said should I grab our birthing plan. The one nurse looked at me with a smirk, “You don’t really have one of those do you?” I answered as cool as I possibly could, “Oh my goodness no. They must be a nightmare for you girls.” Michael of course was already in our bag digging for the 10 page plan I filled out months prior. He turned around proudly when he found it, only to find me giving him the neck cut motion, signaling him to lose the papers. He was confused, but went with it. What I quickly learned in that moment, birthing plans are great to look at as a couple, and even fill out to ease some of the nerves, but come delivery day, leave them at home. These nurses and doctors are true professionals. Unless you have a very strong feeling about multiple things, just be vocal. Tell them what you want, ask questions, and know that they have your best interest at heart. If you give them a birthing plan, they have to stick to that, even when you decide, ‘your’ plan is shit. My best advice: Go into your delivery with an open mind, and let the pros do what they are best at.

My plan was to generally do whatever the doctor recommended. A lot of people say you won’t see your doctor until the very last couple of seconds and that’s if you’re lucky. I saw my doctor at least a dozen times. He was always coming in to check on me and make sure I was comfortable. At 8AM things got started with Sytotec. It looks like a little pill that gets inserted in your lady parts. I was about 2CM when everything began. For 4 hours, I felt nothing out of the usual. Some contractions every once in while, but it really was not until after lunch that things took a turn. The medicine kicked in, as did my contractions. They were 2 minutes apart for about 5 hours and close to 1 minute in length. As soon as I had relief from one contraction, another one would start. I bounced on the medicine ball, turned side to side squeezing the peanut ball in my bed, walked the halls, whatever I could to get through the discomfort. Michael, my mom, and my mother in law were all there helping me through every second. My goal was to make it to 4-5CM before I requested an epidural. I was afraid if I got the epidural too soon, it might slow things down, and I was moving along on my own with a little jump start from the Sytotec. By 5PM, I felt like I was going to vomit from the pain. (Maybe my tolerance for pain isn’t as high as I thought). I was waiting on Dr. Milov to come and check my dilation, but at that point, I really didn’t care. I just wanted relief. I told my nurse, it was time for the epidural. Here is a really good thing to keep in mind: Epidurals take time to order. So just know it can take 15 minutes to an hour before the anesthesiologists shows up with it. I waited 20 minutes, which felt like 3 hours. During that time, my doctor came in and checked my status. I was 4CM and 100% effaced. He broke my water, which sounds a lot worse than it is (you really don’t feel anything) and in came my savior, Dr. Fiscus. This man is amazing at what he does. The moms were asked to leave the room, and Michael was all setup to sit in front of me so he could not see what was happening in the back. I never once saw the needle. Dr. Fiscus walked me through the entire procedure verbally. I held perfectly still, and did not feel any pain, only pressure. The epidural kicked in almost immediately, and the relief… there are simply no words. It was amazing. The epidural does make you a little itchy, which is weird, and I was told if I scratched, it would only make matters worse, so I did my best to not itch.

Shortly after the epidural, my room became a party. The Moms were back in, my Aunt Donna showed up, the Dads were there. We were just sitting around talking like it was happy hour. You could see my contractions on the monitors spiking all the way to the top, but I felt nothing. Around 8PM I was still only 4CM dilated. That’s when we learned the baby would probably not arrive until after midnight. They gave me some Pitocin to help speed up the contractions, and I suggested everyone go get something to eat since it was going to be a late night. I was also allowed to eat and drink at this time, so I kept it light, and took advantage of some rest time while everyone was out of the room. My mom wanted to stay back so someone was with me. About a half hour in, I looked over at mom - pale as a ghost. With that, my nurse Kari came in. Then came Dr. Milov with a few others. Something was wrong. They turned down the monitors, so I could not hear what was happening, and began manipulating the way I was lying. The baby was clearly not a fan of the Pitocin, and the umbilical cord was becoming an issue. The baby’s heart-rate started to drop. This continued off and on for almost an hour, and simply put, was terrifying. Dr. Milov kept telling me to talk to my baby, and so I did. I would say, “Come on baby, Mommy is excited to meet you.” “Let’s get this show on the road, baby.” “Baby, we’ve come this far, don’t give up on me now.” When I talked, his/her heartbeat grew stronger. To help keep things stable, I was given an oxygen mask to wear. Of course, as soon as the mask went on, everyone returned from dinner. Michael’s face was covered in fear. I assured everyone I was perfectly fine. It wasn’t until after our baby arrived, we filled them in on what actually went down. Around midnight, my sister in law, Lindsey arrived. She helped me with some breathing exercises, braided my hair, and sat by my side, calming every uneasy nerve that was starting to build.

At 1:11AM (I knew back to back 1s would have some significance in all of this) I was told it was time to start pushing. I could hardly get out the words, but Mom managed to pick-up on it just in time, grabbed the closest thing to a bucket she could find, and boom… I yacked. Followed by uncontrollable shaking. What can I say? The nerves got the best of me.

The room quickly transitioned, and out came all of the tools necessary to have a baby. The Dads pretty much sprinted out of the room, and everyone else naturally fell into their own beautiful roles. My mom grabbed a hold of one of my legs. Michael was constantly cooling me off with a wash cloth and feeding me ice chips, Lindsey was at my side holding my hand, my mother in law held the other, and my Aunt Donna had my phone capturing as much as she could of our little miracle’s debut. Their words of encouragement echoed throughout the room the entire time I pushed. I had the hardest time opening my eyes. I didn’t want to see anyone. My motivation and focus was picturing everything that led up to this moment. The heartache, the challenges, the day we found out we were pregnant, the day we told our family and friends. I saw it all, and it became my momentum in these critical moments.

About halfway through, Michael and Lindsey swapped places. Despite Michael’s will, I really wanted him to see his son or daughter being born. He should be the first to see him or her, so I pretty much made him head down - front row.

55 minutes of pushing later, we welcomed our little miracle. Our doctor held him up, and it instantly reminded me of that Lion King scene haha! There was no denying the sex of the baby. The parts were right there in my face, but I waited for Doctor Milov to turn the babe towards Michael so he could make the proud announcement, “It’s a boy!”

It is easily the happiest, exhausting, yet most accomplished moment of my life, and I wondered how many more of those moments I might have? Michael cut the umbilical cord, and did not hesitate when the nurses asked what his name would be. “Anthony Michael Salerno.”

Anthony and I were sharing some quality skin to skin time, as I was getting sewn back together (yes, the babe did some damage) and our time was suddenly interrupted. We both spiked a fever. Anthony was taken away from me and a NICU doctor was paged. Everyone hovered over where Anthony was except Michael and my mom. They stood by my side waiting to find out what the concerned look on my Doctor’s face was all about. My placenta was not coming out. They revved up the Pitocin, pushed on my stomach, and still, no response. I had a retained placenta, which resulted in my Doctor having to go up manually and pull out my placenta, piece by piece.

There was an immediate concern expressed about possible scar tissue build up, which could present some challenges for future children, but in that moment we were just so grateful our little boy was here safe and sound.

Anthony Michael instantly became my reason for existing.

The next two days were exhausting. Every time I felt like I could finally get rest, we were interrupted for vital checks and baby tests. With that said, the nurses were angels, and beyond supportive and patient with us as they showed us the do’s and dont’s, and when our stay was up, they wheeled us out with zero hesitations.

Michael and I set some pretty strict boundaries prior to Anthony’s arrival. We made it clear to family and friends, our first couple of nights we did not want visitors. This gave us the opportunity to learn how to adjust and heal in privacy. What I will tell you is this…. No one. Nowhere. No how. Can prepare you for the first night home. It’s a wild one. Take deep breaths, understand it is only temporary, and it is totally normal to have a mental sobbing breakdown, which includes asking your significant other if there is a return policy on your newborn. Your baby is figuring it all out, and so are you. Be patient. Be kind to yourself. Breathe. Count to 10. And just know that YOU. GOT. THIS.

The second you feel yourself losing your grip, which happens often, reach out to me. Reach out to your sister, your Mom, your friend. There is nothing wrong with asking for help, or advice. It doesn’t make you less of a mom. Us ‘Mamas’ need to stick together!

Anthony is now 15 weeks old, and I think back to those days in the hospital. I couldn’t wait to BREAK FREE. I always come back to this one vivid moment, that first day we woke up as a family, before the visitors could bombard. Michael had setup the most perfect playlist. He hit play just before he left to go home and shower, and I just started balling. It was just me and my son, and I was so overwhelmed with happiness. Elvis was singing in the background, “And I can’t help” — and there we were. I couldn’t help but fall in love with this most perfect, precious, beautiful little boy.

I had given up. I had lost all hope. And despite it all, here we are. It still feels like a dream, and a part of me did not feel worthy.

It’s been a whirlwind these last 15 weeks, including surviving a national pandemic. There have been many highs and even some lows, but every day we seem to catch a wave, and every ride is more rewarding than the last. I am so grateful be Anthony’s Mommy, and very appreciative of the lovely bottle of wine that’s graciously allowed me to sit down and reminisce on the best day of my life.