She’s here! Our daughter, Sofia Maria Ortona, was born on February 23, 2009 in Brussels. In the end, as suspected, her brother Luca chose her name. When my husband told Luca that his baby sister had arrived (without mentioning her name), Luca replied, “Sofia!” He tried to explain to Luca that we were actually leaning towards the name Livia. Luca would have none of it, and threw a floor fit. We realized then that he would always call her Sofia no matter what we decided. Well, he was right. The name suits her perfectly.
She’s a month and a day old today, and, in the words of my husband, “she ain’t bigger than a loaf of bread.” I had forgotten how itsy-bitsy babies truly can be. She was born at 3.2 kilos, and dropped down to 2.8 kilos by the time we left the hospital. She regained her birth weight after a week of being at home, and I suspect she weighs even a bit more now. As I write this, she is nuzzled between my cleavage and snoring. Although I know I should sleep while she does, I have been aching to release some energy on my blog in an effort to prove to myself that I will still be able to write while being the mother of two.
My doctor insisted I check into the hospital two days before Sofia’s scheduled birth for medical reasons. She wanted to monitor my blood flow to the baby (I have a blood condition that can bring on clotting), and check for contractions (I had none). By the time, Monday morning arrived and they wheeled me into the delivery-operating room, I felt like an abituee’ on the ward.
My husband spent the night in my room the night before the scheduled Cesarean. Unfortunately, neither one of us slept since our nerves were on edge so we went into the delivery room already with bags under our eyes. As with Luca, the entire procedure took about 45 minutes from start to finish. My doctor, coupled with her colleague, did an amazing job, and re-produced a scar that a nurse, upon dressing it, would later refer to as “haute couture.” An animated surgical assistant lept around the room taking photographs at inappropriate moments with my mom’s camera which we had borrowed at the last minute. I have not had the courage to look at the explicit photographs yet but Sofia will one day be able to see exactly how she entered this world if she chooses to.
I shook like a leaf at the start, and watched my husband’s eyes for comfort. A friend had wisely advised me not to look in the overhead lamp to avoid seeing the surgery being performed on me in it’s reflection.
