Baby on a Plane

So now that everyone knows my life and birth story let’s get down to current events. Ally is 7 months old, now eats rice cereal, can almost sit up on her own with out holding on, and is just about the most adorable creature God ever made. Besides all those compelling facts we are getting ready to go and visit my mother in my native Florida for 8 whole days!

This will be Ally’s first trip anywhere and my first time traveling by air with someone other than an adult. Since announcing our trip I’ve heard it all from how to medically sedate my child with OTC drugs for the trip to questions on how I will pump on the airplane. Yes, Ally is still breastfed and I am proud of it! Since she’ll be with me I will simply feed her, as I only have to pump at work when I am away from her. Pumping and breastfeeding, now that takes dedication and hard work. It's a whole other post! As far as OTC sedation, I think I’ll risk being the jerk on the plane with a screaming kid. No drugs for Ally please! Can you believe some people!?

In happier news, I have purchased myself a lovely new carry-on bag from Vera Bradley. The “Get Carried Away” tote in the adorable "Make Me Blush" pattern is larger and less expensive than their “Baby Bag” and can serve a wide variety of functions after the trip is over! I still haven’t decided whether to combine my regular carry-on items with diaper bag items in one tote or to use separate bags. We’ll have to see how the packing goes first.

I also purchased this nifty fight vest from Baby B’Air. It is meant to restrain your precious cargo in the event of violent turbulence that can propel a lap riding infant right out of your arms. The horrifying video on the Baby B’Air website was enough to sell me on this contraption. It arrived and looks very well constructed out of soft and durable materials. The tether is also long enough that you can feed, change and switch positions with your child without having to remove the vest.


We are really looking forward to our trip and I am excited to take Ally swimming for the first time and take her to the beach. It’s going to be a wonderful time full of family and old friends! I can’t wait!

Merry Christmas, Ally!

After 18 hours of labor, two days before Christmas I finally gave birth to my beautiful baby girl, Ally. She was a little late, but who could blame her? She was perfect, beautiful and all I had ever dreamed of. She was born at 1:52 pm. I had kicked everyone out of the delivery room except for Josh of course. I’m not a family birthing kind of girl, and there were certainly no videos or flash photography. Because Ally was trying to come out sideways I needed forceps to help turn her so she could come out facing the right direction, otherwise she wouldn’t fit! It was too late for a cesarean, to which I objected anyways. I remember when they first told me I needed some help. I was pushing for 5 hours and she wasn’t budging. It felt like 20 minutes. I had no idea that long had passed. Josh was a trooper, right there by my side, with no sleep and seeing things we vowed long ago he wouldn’t. The nurse finally stopped me and said, “It’s ok to stop now, you need some help.” I felt like a failure and began to cry. First I couldn’t go into labor on my own and needed to be induced, then I couldn’t stand the pain of the rapid and induced contractions and needed an epidural, and now to top it all off I couldn’t even give birth on my own without needing intervention. How could someone so incompetent even attempt to raise a child? I couldn’t see at the time how well I had actually done, the nurses were singing my praises, but I wouldn’t have it. The amount of emotion I was experiencing was ridiculous. There’s nothing like it.

Soon after agreeing to forceps, my room was flooded with attendings, interns, and so many other doctors and nurses I didn’t know what to do, nor did I care. I just wanted that kid out! These shenanigans had gone on long enough. When Ally finally came she was great! I couldn’t see her from my position but Josh assured me she had all her fingers and toes. I remember how astonished the look on his face was the first time he held her. It really is a miracle. You think you know someone and you can predict exactly how they will act, but then they completely surprise you and do so much better and so much more than you expected. Since that day that’s the kind of father he has been. Doing so much more in every situation than I could possibly ask for. It was perfect. After the commotion had subsided I was finally alone with Ally, like I had been for 9 months only now she was looking at me. I loved her so much more that day, and more every day since then. Words can’t express how you feel for a child; you love them more than you love yourself and more than anything else on earth.

Memories of Prego...

I had a great pregnancy! At least that’s what I remember now, 7 months after the fact. The truth is, in my first trimester; I would attempt to eat breakfast at least 2 or 3 times each morning only to throw it up a few minutes later. It was so bad that I kept a gallon sized zip top bag in the car with me because I made myself sick just driving to work! There were mornings I would lay on a fold-out cushion on the floor in my office. I’d lay there with my head set on to answer the phone as I fed myself saltines and tiny sips of water. My boss was always so sweet about it, but I’m sure she was glad when the phase was over!

By the time my second trimester rolled around I still wasn’t showing much but at least I felt better. It really is the best time in pregnancy. You’re no longer sick, you have lots of energy and your belly is just ‘so big’ that it looks adorable in everything you wear and most of your original pants still fit! (With the help of a pony-tail holder looped through the button hole that is!) This is the best time to go on a vacation, or “babymoon” as I’ve heard it called. We went camping with friends and it was great!

Then comes the third trimester, you become sluggish, huge, and even crankier – if that’s even possible. Despite this, the girls at work loved to see me doing “cute pregnant” things like the belly-shelf or belf as one coworker called it. As I’d waddle down the hall to the copier past other offices I’d hear the familiar cat call, “Hey Chubby, how’s it going today?” From a loveable older man who’s belly is about the same size as mine. I’d call back, “Goin’ good Chubby, and you?” One of the perks of pregnancy is you can pretty much get away with anything, and because you are so big and loveable, people think it’s funny or sweet!


As the days wore on though, I became more and more detached. I had to leave work and start my maternity leave week before my due date because I could no longer function properly with my baby on my mind all day. I recall one afternoon I was polishing the (might I add, not dirty) floors of my house in a fury, a symptom of nesting no doubt. It’s simply amazing the way these instincts just take you over. Then my due date came and went. I tried every trick in the book to induce my labor but she simply wouldn’t budge. I tried things you don’t want to know about and things that I’ll never admit to. But I will admit that I let my mother feed me mineral oil, an old wives tale said to induce labor. It was odorless, tasteless, slimy and utterly ineffective. After my last checkup at the doctor and 8 days miserably over due, we reluctantly scheduled my induction.

4 Weeks in 4 Days, Now that's a Record!

I’m not sure how most women react when they are half naked, draped in a sheet, and shivering on the end of the examining table, waiting patiently for results. I’m obviously not most women. On the drive up to the doctor’s I was in an almost dreamlike state. I felt, well, funny. After the madness of the wedding I hadn’t really had time to stop and pay attention to my body or what it was doing. It was your usual, pee in a cup and wait here, we’ll be right back. I sat there for 35 minutes, nervous, shivering, mind racing, listening to inane elevator music. I didn’t know the test was a simple dip stick procedure! I could hear faint chattering, nurses shuffling back and fourth in the hallway outside. Finally someone knocked on the door. “Have they told you your results yet?” a nurse asked, amid giggling from the background. The insecure little girl inside me thought for sure they were laughing at me because I was knocked up! “No.” I replied. “She’ll be right in.” She said.

When the doctor finally emerged she confirmed what I had been suspecting with a plain, “Yes, you are pregnant.” Ignorantly I said, “nuh-uh!” Then something funny happened, I began laughing! I had just gotten married 4 days ago and here I was, pregnant already! The doctor told me I was 4 weeks along and gave me my due date, December 15th. I continued laughing all through my examination saying, “I can’t believe it!” After the laughter subsided I began to feel really special, and really, really glad I was married. This was scary enough as it was. When I told them I had just gotten married to boot, we all laughed and joked about what quick work it had been. As if I needed some sort of consoling the nurse joked, “As far as anyone knows it happened last weekend, honey! We’ll never tell!” Just in case you were wondering, I see a new doctor now.

The Coffee Incident

It was a week after the wedding and Josh and I were happily settling in to newlywed life. It seemed normal enough; I was an emotional wreck and wanted to kill him for looking at me funny. Little did I know. A few days later I got the hankering for some coffee the morning I was to return to work. We were out. When we were packing for the wedding cabin at Tygart Lake, he had insisted we bring our coffee from home to make while there. I on the other hand wanted to get a new separate one because I knew, I just knew we would forget it there. Sure enough we did. I was ready to go back to work and wanted a cup for the drive in. Realizing my prediction had come true I flew off the handle. Screaming, crying, and throwing things at poor Josh. I was total psycho. Even though he obviously felt bad and offered to get some coffee for me, it was to no avail. I was on the war path, stormed out and drove up to the nearest convenience store. By the time I returned I felt totally normal and fine. It was the weirdest mood swing of my entire pregnancy.


When I walked in the door, coffee in hand he looked at me severely and asked, “Did you ever get your period?” “No” I replied, “It’s coming though, I have really bad cramps.” “I don’t think so!” he said, “you better to go to the doctor!” That’s when it hit me just how late I was. I scheduled an appointment right away.

Fertile Myrtle

The wedding was only two months away and we were so excited to start a family that I jumped off of the contraceptive bandwagon a little early (something in hindsight I do not recommend), heeding the advice from my doctor, “After being on birth control for over 10 years, it should take your body 3-5 months to become fully ready for conception.” They told me it could take a long time to get pregnant and I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

This is when the girls at the office start teasingly calling me “Fertile Myrtle”. Apparently we are not the average couple, and apparently I cannot read a simple pregnancy test! Fast forward to a week before the wedding, I frantically peed on so many sticks I didn’t know which way was up. I was absolutely convinced I was not pregnant because not one of those little buggers had any semblance of a line on it, at least not what any normal person would expect a line to look like- especially based on those fluffy little commercials with happy women and snuggly babies pictured on the pregnancy test box! Note to self: Next pregnancy, for God’s sake, SPLURGE on the digital read out tests!

Needless to say I was indeed pregnant. On the wedding day, I was exactly three weeks pregnant with my precious baby girl. I was just too oblivious to realize it! What finally prompted me to go to the doctor was what I like to refer to as “the coffee incident”. At this point I thought all the stress of the wedding was making me late, besides I had cramps and I knew my period was only days away. Not so much. Those “cramps” were in actuality my uterus expanding, growing, and making room for the baby!

In the Beginning...

Let’s start at the beginning. I moved to West Virginia to be with my now husband Josh when we were 2 ½ years into a long distance relationship between Florida and West Virginia. I was slow to acclimate but after some tragic circumstances with failed friendships, and family heartbreak I happily took the move as a chance to start fresh in life. In 2006 Josh purchased a modest little home, got himself a whole new career in coal mining and by December we were living the dream. The co-habitating, pre-marital, dream which left me feeling awkward at best.

About a week before my birthday the very next year we rectified the situation by making it official and in view of my Italian upbringing, a little less immoral. Leaving a long engagement, we made plans. Plans like- I got a job at the local City Hall helping to keep public records, which most of the time is fun and even better is only part time, leaving me lots of time for extracurriculars which soon included a wedding! More plans- including our beautiful wedding day which was a total dream come true and couldn’t have been more perfect, more fun or more special! And plans like “Family Planning” where a routine trip to the gynecologist the summer before the wedding turned into questions of “How long do you think it will take me to get pregnant?"

Josh and I the Spring after we were engaged.