Inside Gigi's World

15 years ago, I was 20-something. I was pregnant with my first child, a boy.

15 years ago, I was in active labor after a long and difficult pregnancy. I was anxiously waiting meeting my little guy, I wanted to know if he had hair or not.

15 years ago, I wanted to sleep, my body was in so much pain, my body was slowly slipping away, I tried to tell my doctors something was wrong. I tried to tell anyone who would listen that something as wrong. They said I was just tired, I was overwhelmed, that this was what labor was. They would soon learn that was not the case at all.

15 years ago, all I wanted was to hold my little boy. I felt myself fading but I literally would have crushed the earth in my bare hands just to get to my baby.

I only remember a few moments here and there after I was wheeled away for an emergency C-section.

I remember telling Rich how tired I was but I was afraid to close my eyes because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up.

I remember hearing the suctioning noises and all of the doctors and nurses in the room.

I remember Richie, my fuzzy haired little boy being brought over to me, although I couldn’t hold him. He was making sucking noises and Rich said he was trying to give me kisses.

After that everything became pretty blurry.

The only thing I vaguely remember after being wheeled into recovery was asking my mother-in-law for Oreos when she was leaving and grabbing onto Rich’s shirt.

I don’t even think I got to hold my baby.

The next time I was aware of my surroundings seemed like I was in a movie. It was dark with the exception of the lights from some monitors. There were doctors all around me. My doctor asked me if I knew where I was, what was my name, did I know what was happening.

The Hospital.

Angela.

No.

He informed me as I faded in and out, as they tried their hardest to keep me awake , that I had lost over half of my blood, I was internally hemorrhaging, I had received a massive blood transfusion…words….more words…..sleep…..more bubbled words and then it was dark and silent again.

At this point no one knew what was going on with me.

As Rich waited for me in the waiting room, the doctors nor hospital would tell him nothing because we were not married yet and they did not notify my parents because I was over the age of 18.

He had no idea what was going on and they wouldn’t let him see Richie.

After what seemed like days, I woke with a vengeance.

The nurses tried to keep me laying down as I was hooked up to machines and tubes and a bunch of stuff that to this day, I am still not even sure what most of it was.

They rushed to find my doctor I was yelling and screaming.

“Give me my baby!”

“Where is RIch?”

“I want my baby NOW!”

“Where is Rich? I want Rich, get Rich!”

Finally I seen a little clear crib rolling in. I can’t remember who got to me first, Rich or Richie. I was still nodding in and out. But I once I seen him, all was right in the world. I finally got to hold him and feel his little fingers and see that head full of hair that I was so anxious to see.

I knew, that very second, I would have done it a hundred times over again.

That first year was hard.

He was colic, he had acid reflux, I only slept when he did, which wasn’t much.

It seemed like it would last forever. The exhaustion. The crying, his and mine. The cold dinners, the long nights, the dirty hair and being covered in baby vomit. Getting peed on and pooped on.

You see, people tell you being a parent is hard and it is but there really are no words of wisdom, there is no advice, nothing could ever prepare you for the best thing you will ever do in your life. There are days it is horrible, days when you think to yourself “I will never get through this alive” and then one day turns into one week, one week turns into one month, then two and then three, then a year has gone by and you take a deep breath and think to yourself “we did it kiddo, we really did it”. And then all at once, you miss that squishy little face but new adventures start.

Life with Richie has never been boring.

As anyone with children knows, it is one adventure (fun or not) after the other.

Each milestone we hit was just as exciting as the one before it.

Not one moment taken advantage of but with each moment the clock seemed to speed up a little faster.

Every year, on March 9th, just before the strike of midnight, I ask Father Time for just one more favor, to slow down the year a little. I’m starting to think it is falling on def ears.

Life with Richie was living with a little person who loves to laugh.

Life with Richie was living with a little boy who couldn’t leave the house without a pocket full of Thomas trains and his little baby “Monkey George”

Life with Richie was “pink milk”—strawberry incase you’re wondering.

Life with Richie was living with a little boy who thought he was Harry Potter and after months and months of his spells not working he decided it best he move on to something he was better at, living life as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

Life with Richie was always having a flower vase of dandelions.

Life with Richie was always having someone to share a bowl of popcorn with.

Life with Richie was always having to watch the PBS line up every morning, Monday thru Friday.

Thomas the Train.

Bob the Builder.

Curious George.

Clifford the Big Red Dog.

Sid the Science Kid.

Life with Richie was always having a lunch date and someone to watch Harry Potter with.

It was all of these little moments, that if I am being honest, I got really lucky to have because I probably shouldn’t have walked out of that hospital.

Life with Rocco is still great!

Somedays it is like a comedy, some it is like a horror movie. You never know what you’re going to get.

Life with Rocco is always having someone to reach things off of the high shelf for me.

Life with Rocco is always making sure there is Gatorade in the house.

Life with Rocco is always dreading going sneaker shopping because I now know the hell of trying to find something that will fit his feet.

Life with Rocco is always having to keep pizza bites in the freezer and peanut butter in the cupboard.

Life with Rocco now is never being able to find towels in the house because they all always seem to be dirty on his bedroom floor.

Life with Rocco is listening to basketball, baseball and football statistics ALL SEASON LONG. All day, all night, at random times. It never ends. Really. Ever.

Life with Rocco is never being able to find pants that fit his wait and his height all at the same time, or at least ones he will wear. (The last time we tried to buy him jeans, his waist was a 29 and length was a 34,do you have any idea how hard it is to find pants that size?)

Life with Rocco is making him listen to his music on his headphones because he has the worst taste in music.

Life with Rocco is getting scolded because he does not find my jokes, foul mouth or behavior nearly as funny as I do.

15 years ago, today, at this very moment, I was still pregnant. I had no idea what was a head of us, what life would be like. I probably wouldn’t have listened even if someone had told me.

15 years ago was the last time I felt my little baby from the inside.

15 years ago, I was just young and stupid, hoping we wouldn’t screw him up.

Today is the last time I said good night to my 14 year old.

Tomorrow he is officially 15 so if you see him make sure you wish him a Happy Birthday.

As for me, if you see me outside tonight, dancing under the moon, mind your business. It’s just me trying to convince Father Time to give me a few extra minutes…