Baby Bumps: From Party Girl to Proud Mama, and all the Messy Milestones Along the Way

by Polizzi, Nicole

  I liked my hospital bed. I was as comfy as possible. My parents arrived. Jenni and Roger drove up. They’d all come for the birth. The reality of the situation hit me. I started freaking out. Would I have pain? What was going to happen next? Some people had a nightmare experience. For others, it was a piece of cake. How would it go for me? Would my vagina stretch out permanently? Sex with me afterward might be like throwing a stick in the ocean. Would I have postpartum depression? Would Lorenzo be okay? What if I were a horrible mother? Now, I get it that worry was part of the motherhood package. I would worry about Lorenzo every day for the rest of my life. But right then, I was pretty much terrified of the pain.

  Jionni managed to break through the fear, making me laugh. He knew he had to hold it together, that if he freaked out, I would, too. Neither of us wanted that to happen. He was probably just as nervous and scared as I was. One thing I never worried about during the entire nine months was whether Jionni would be a great dad. I tried to calm my nerves by playing Christmas music.

  Another two hours went by. My mucus plug came out fifteen hours before, but my cervix had dilated only one centimeter. It would have to yawn another nine centimeters before I could push. To make me open faster, the doctor wanted to insert a balloon and force my cervix to dilate and to give me Pitocin, a drug that would increase contractions—and pain. At this point, they felt like period cramps times one thousand. They’d get worse? He asked, “Do you want the balloon or the epidural first?”

  Let’s see . . . agonizing pain or sweet relief? How would I choose?

  “This isn’t rocket science, doc!” I said. “Give me the epidural!”

  Have I mentioned that I’m terrified of needles? This was the one time I was glad to see it coming. The epidural didn’t really hurt. It was a weird feeling to know a huge needle was in my spine. Once the drugs kicked in, I was numb from the waist down. If the epidural were a person, I would seriously hug the shit out of her for helping me through the some of the scariest moments of my life. The pain just stopped. Bzzip. My vagina was cold as an iceberg. It felt awesome. I pushed down on my belly and I couldn’t feel a thing. But would that work? Could I push with an iceberg vagina? I might not have pain now, but what about during? Or after? The pain was gone, but the nerves were still there.

  The doctor did the balloon and gave me the Pitocin to make the contractions harder. It still took forever to dilate. My body and mind weren’t ready to open up. Another five, six, ten hours went by. We chilled on the bed, watching cartoons. I took a nap, and woke up. The nurse checked my progress. “I’ll just take a looksee in your vag for a second . . .” My cervix was still taking its motherfucking time. I thought about Lorenzo, warm and cozy, and hoped he was enjoying his last couple hours in there.

  It was now 26 hours since my water broke. I really had to take a shit.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I told the doctor. “Right now.” I asked to be carried to the bathroom because I was going to poop all over the hospital bed.

  “That means you’re ready to push,” said the doctor.

  “No,” I said. It really felt like I had to take a serious shit.

  He took a look. “It’s time,” he said. “Start pushing!”

  A day of waiting, and now I wished I had another minute to get ready. “I can’t do it!” I screamed. “What the fuck! I’m never doing this again!”

  I had never been so nervous in my life. I shivered like I was in Antarctica in a bikini. But I knew there was only one way this was going to end. I found my last ounce of strength.

  “Let’s do this!” I said. Lorenzo was ready to enter the world. I would be, too.

  Jionni was up at my head, and my mom held my legs. I cried even though I wasn’t in pain. I just held my breath and bore down. If you love pooping like me, and consider yourself an expert in that area, pushing will be a piece of cake for you. I pushed only about eight times and my baby came out!

  Lorenzo Dominic LaValle was born on August 26, 2012, at 3:10 in the morning. Six pounds and five ounces. The national holiday was a week later, but that date will always be Labor Day for me.

  What a huge relief it was to push him out! I just felt pressure, like shitting out a dinoturd. Speaking of . . . I felt sure I was going to crap while pushing. But I didn’t. Thank Gawd! It’s no big deal, but I didn’t want to have my birth experience marred by smelling my own shit. I did fart in the doctor’s face, but I didn’t even know I was doing it because of the numbness. It either happens or not, but you can’t control it. He basically ate my fart. “I don’t mind. It happens all the time,” he said. Just the same, sorry about that, Doc!

  Here’s Jionni

  Being there for the birth of my son was an amazing experience. I have no words for it. I was up by Nicole’s head. I didn’t watch Lorenzo come out of her body. I got advice not to watch, that it’d scar me for life. I thought I could handle it, but I didn’t want to risk it. Maybe next time.

  I was worried about Lorenzo, but the doctor was right there for him. I was also concerned for Nicole. Throughout the pregnancy, at each check up, she screamed and cried when she was just touched a little. So I had some doubts about how she’d be during labor. But she was aweseome. She just pushed our boy out, one, two, three. It was incredible. I couldn’t have done it. I was so proud of her. It definitely made me fall even more in love.

  They put Lorenzo on my chest. I cried, laughed, and yelled, “I love you!” He was finally here in my arms, all slimy and covered in blood. I’ve done a lot of crazy things in my life, but nothing will ever compare to the moment of giving birth to my child and meeting him for the first time. This little baby was a part of me and he will forever bring love and happiness into our lives. So trust me, ladies, all the anxiety, nerves, pain, and torture you endure throughout your pregnancy and labor is all worth it to finally hold your baby. I can honestly say I cannot wait to have more babies! Lorenzo stared at me, and I cried about how perfect he was. A lot of new moms don’t bond immediately with their baby. I was relieved to feel the burst of love at first sight with Lorenzo. Just instantaneous, mad, crazy, fierce, incredible love.

  “That was it?” I asked. “I can do that again.”

  The nurses cracked up. Ten minutes ago, I was screaming, “I can’t!! Never again!”

  I’d waited so long, and had been through so much for this moment. Lorenzo and I had been together the whole time, but now separated, we were truly united. Jionni cut the umbilical cord. One more push for the placenta, which slithered out. Jionni described it later, saying, “Galloons of blood gushed into the pan. It was sloppy and wet and looked like a big bloody stingray with a tail.” He was probably traumatized for life.

  The doctor asked if I wanted to see the placenta. He cut it in half and showed me how it worked. I grew an extra organ to make Lorenzo. When I didn’t need it anymore, it came sliding out. Amazing. As incredible as it was, I had no intention of eating it like a ham steak, or putting it in a blender and drinking it. People do that! Or they use it for shampoo. Seriously, it’s an alien. It’s out of this world. Eating it? No freakin’ way! Yuck.

  Since I gave birth, a lot of people have asked me questions about pregnancy and labor. I can tell that they are scared shitless about what’s going to happen to them. Let me tell you, I am the biggest baby you will ever meet when it comes to pain, and I was a fucking champ during labor. You have no idea how nervous I was. If you saw Snooki & JWOWW Season Two, they showed part of my labor. I was crying with my lip quivering. That’s not even half of it, ladies. It’s terrifying to think that a 6-to-9-pound baby is going to squeeze out of your vagina. It’s seriously a miracle that we can do it, but we do.

  When the time comes to step up to the plate and push that baby out, you are going to be ready and do a fantastic job. I just want to get across that it’s normal and okay to be scared. You have no idea what to expect. Trust me, you are stronger than you think. When the moment comes to be brave, you will be. You will tolerate the pain. You’ll s
till be nervous. But bravery will overcome that. Once it’s all over, you’ll say, “Piece of cake!” You’ll feel like Super Woman. Let’s be honest, all of us who give birth are Super Women. We are straight-up strong ass bosses. No one is going to fuck with us.

  Chapter 16

  Firsts

  During the first month, every day was full of “firsts.” Every hour! It was all brand-spanking new. (Wonder where that phrase came from? In the old days, the doctor held the newborn upside down by the ankles and spanked his ass to get him crying/breathing. Now the doc suctions the mucus out of the baby’s mouth and he starts breathing on his own. With Lorenzo, it happened so fast, I didn’t even see it.) Some of motherhood came naturally, right away. Right from the start, I instinctually knew how to hold him and talk to him. But I had a lot to learn.

  Along with the firsts, I had a lot of second guessing. Lorenzo’s first month, for Jionni and me, was a trial by shit storm. We had to figure it all out ASAP, or fail our baby—not an option.

  Some of our firsts were predictable. Some we didn’t see coming. It didn’t matter. A first is a first, and once it was over, we considered our cherries popped. I can’t remember it chronologically. It went by in a flash. I barely changed out of my pajamas for weeks. Motherhood scrambled my sense of time. We were up all night, and slept—when we could—during the day. The baby wasn’t on a schedule, and neither were we. Highlights from our month of firsts:

  First look. I’d seen glimpses of Lorenzo in the sonograms. But it wasn’t like laying eyes on him in the flesh. I’d been waiting so long. What would he look like? Waiting to see him made me nuts with anticipation. Why did pregnancy take so friggin’ long? I admit, I was scared he’d be an ugly newborn, like those shriveled old man babies. But he wasn’t. That first second I saw him, he was covered in blood and mucus. He also looked a bit blue. After a minute, he got red (only to turn yellow the next day from jaundice). They wiped him off, and I held him. I stared at my boy, and thought, You’re mine! I love you! He looked a lot like Jionni, same nose. But now I see the combination of the two of us in Lorenzo’s face. It was instant love, instant protectiveness. Then the nurses tried to take him away. I was like, “Where the fuck are you going? You’re not taking my baby anywhere!” Mama Bear mode kicked in right away. The claws came out.

  First molestation. And the second, and the third, and the hundredth. Get ready to be molested by everyone in the hospital. Post-birth was the worst part for me. That’s when the drugs wore off and my body had to deal with the pain and recovery of pushing a baby out of my vag. At first, I felt a little weird having everyone check my vagina and asshole to see if it was bleeding, but by the third nurse dabbing my vagina, I was over it. You also have multiple nurses squeezing your tits to help with the milk and breast-feeding process. Jionni freaked out at first because everyone in the hospital came in to feel my jugs. I had to reassure him that they do that to EVERYONE, not just because the whole staff wanted to see “Snooki’s tits.” You will have to share your goods with the hospital. Eventually, you’ll get used to it and say, “Fuck it. Just do what you gotta do.”

  First panic. Lorenzo was born with jaundice, which happens to a lot of newborns. Basically, his liver wasn’t working up to speed after relying on the placenta to do its job for so long. It can take a baby a few days to get it right. In the meantime, his eyes and skin can look a little yellow. Jionni and I were assured this is normal, and not a cause for concern. We freaked out anyway. Even when the nurses said it was no big deal, any mention that the baby wasn’t one thousand percent healthy was like an ice pick to the chest. I asked them over and over, “He’s okay, right?” He was fine. The treatment was exposure to sunlight. Lorenzo was put under lights that looked like food warmers. Baby’s first tanning session! When we left the hospital after a few days, we made sure to get him into the sun. When the jaundice went away, we could see his natural skin tone shining through. He was a guido all the way.

  Our second major panic came months later, when Lorenzo got an ear infection and a fever. Again, totally normal and easily treated. But I couldn’t stand to see my boy in pain! We didn’t want him to suffer, but throwing antibiotics at him wasn’t the way to build up his immune system. So we comforted him as best we could while he fought it off himself. That was a rough few days. Definitely more painful for us than for him.

  First cut. We decided to do the circumcision. A boy should look like his daddy. Also, why saddle him with the risk of smegma? Totally vile! Who would want to be his girlfriend if his penis smelled like cheese or looked weird? The doctor wouldn’t let us watch, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to see Lorenzo cry. “Just the foreskin, not the whole tip,” we said to the doctor. To Lorenzo, we said, “Bye bye, weiner!” and he was taken away. Jionni had sympathetic pain. I noticed him holding himself.

  They came back five minutes later.

  “That was so short!” I said.

  “Hey, that’s my boy you’re talking about,” said Jionni.

  The doctor showed us the foreskin in a jar. It was just a tiny scrap of skin, already shrinking. I thought, That’d be a cool keepsake! I wanted to save it all. A lock of newborn hair, all his teeth. I would have had his first poop bronzed, with actual bronze. (Jionni said no.)

  I asked, “Can we keep the foreskin? I really like scrapbooking.”

  “Uh, no,” the doctor said.

  He didn’t let us have it. I can’t fault the guy; he did such a great job. Lorenzo’s penis looked awesome. He’s going to have a great life with that thing.

  We did keep the umbilical cord stump. It fell off after a week. We put it in a jar. It looked like a bacon strip. I’ll break that out when Lorenzo is sixteen. “Here’s where we were attached,” I’ll say. He’ll groan or say, “That’s disgusting, Mom.”

  First PITA (Pain in the Ass) moment. I was probably the most annoying new mom they ever had in that hospital. I rang the nurses every five minutes to come to our room and answer questions.

  “Is it okay if he hiccups?”

  “Can he sleep on his back?”

  “Can we use hair gel on him?”

  Seriously, we knew NOTHING. It’s one thing to read about this stuff, and another thing to do it all. We were so ridiculously clueless. The nurse would come in again, and I’d just crack up thinking how big a pain in the ass I was. But whenever I laughed, my vagina hurt.

  Jionni asked the lactation consultant, “If Nicole eats chocolate, will she give chocolate milk?” He was busting her ass, but she didn’t realize. I guess, in a way, it could be a legit question. Like, would the milk have a lot of sugar in it? Every time we rang the buzzer, we apologized for being annoying. They told us, “All new parents have a million questions. Keep asking. There’s no such thing as a stupid question.” We kept the stupid coming every few minutes for three days.

  First outing. We left the protective bubble of the hospital, and it was terrifying! I was afraid to take Lorenzo into the big, bad world. I held him tight, all bundled up. I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him. I sat in the back of the car with Lorenzo in his new infant car seat while Jionni drove us home. When the sun came in through the window, I put my shades on his face. He looked adorable! I loved my little man so much already, it hurt.

  First awww. We arrived back at the house, and carried our boy down the steps. Remember, I was two weeks early. We’d planned on using that time to set up his crib and stuff. As we walked down the steps to the basement, we expected to find the place a mess. But it was beautiful! While we were at the hospital, Jionni’s mom spent days getting our apartment in shape. She unpacked all the baby stuff and assembled the crib and changing table. She even hung up the letters of Lorenzo’s name over the crib. It was so sweet! I am so grateful to her, and all of our parents, for being the best grandparents ever. Lorenzo is blessed!

  First waaa. Forget it! I cried constantly. I never cried before (well, hardly ever). But I sobbed when Lorenzo was born. I got misty whenever I held him or looked at him. My boy
was my first blood, and I couldn’t help crying at how beautiful and perfect he was. I cried when Jionni and I fought, when my breasts hurt, when I felt frustrated or tired. If Lorenzo cried—which wasn’t that often, my good baby—I did, too. When he got baptized, I was a mess. I could have filled the holy water basin with my own tears. Being a mom has turned me into a wet tissue. I cry when I see other women with their babies now. It’s insane. I was making up for years of being buttoned up and not letting it flow. You give birth, and every blocked emotion comes streaming out along with the baby.

  First day home. It was so exciting. When Lorenzo peeped, Jionni and I jumped up, giggling, and rushed to the crib. We ran through the checklist. Is he hungry? Wet? Bored? Gassy? We didn’t want to miss a minute of it. Since Lorenzo raged all night like his parents used to, there were a lot of minutes. If I thought I was tired during the first trimester, it was nothing compared to this. Even though I loved it, surviving on no sleep made it hard to function. Down was up, up was down, day was night. I had no idea what was going on. After a day or two, we thought it’d be smarter to take shifts. I was a night owl, so I’d take the nights. Jionni was an early riser, so he would do days. But that didn’t work either. We both wanted to do it all, and got up together anyway. That lasted about a month. Then we hit a wall of exhaustion. Now, we beg each other to get up.

  First temper tantrum. Mine. On no sleep, a person can get cranky. I eventually got used to it. But the first few weeks of sleep deprivation were torture. My baby was an enhanced interrogation technique. A few times, I caught myself yelling at him, “Go the fuck to sleep!” Then I’d be horrified by my outburst and apologize. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Mommy’s just bone freakin’ tired.” I felt really bad afterward. If I let the baby cry, I felt like a terrible parent. One time, I yelled, “I don’t know why the fuck you’re crying!” He got louder. Lorenzo was trying to say, “You’re being an asshole, Mommy.” That was the last time I yelled. It does get aggravating. But raising your voice doesn’t help. A baby can’t understand your frustration. If I’d been trying to calm him for an hour, and I needed a break before I punched myself in the face, I put him down, walked away, and caught my breath. Then I could go back and feel ready for it.