Pregnant Mama

What am I doing here? There is certainly part of me that is in shock/awe that, not only am I pregnant with my second child - something I had never predicted in my wildest dreams…but that I now seem to be living in the countryside in Piemonte, Italy. I step out on the balcony or gaze out from the patio and I am in awe. It’s absolutely gorgeous here. I have always (well, since after college) been drawn to countryside and wild places. But I can’t believe I am actually living here. I am a city girl – born in NYC, bred in SF. Sure I went to summer camp as a kid (and hated all the social cattiness of it). I grew up skiing, water skiing and doing similar “outdoor leisure sports” but I was never an outdoorsy kid. My folks didn’t take us backpacking or hiking. Of course we did the odd weekend campout when I was in preschool – the excitement of sleeping in a tent, roasting marshmallows. But I have always lived somewhere where I stepped out my front door onto concrete. Now I step outside and watch out that wild hogs aren’t on the loose. In hunting season, we have to be careful not to get shot on our own property.

It’s so quiet here. Quiet in a non-city noise way. Other than that, there are birds chirping, owls hooting, the donkey up on the road moaning, wild boars calling out to mates, and cows mooing in the distance. Thankfully, there are no roosters within earshot.

In my current state of pregnancy – well into my third trimester, I am not sure how much my overwhelm is due to normal anxiety about having a baby, having a second, taking care of the first while trying not to neglect the second and vice versa and how much is just “oh my god what the f- am I doing in the countryside of Italy about to have a baby?”

I’m going to have this baby in an ITALIAN hospital for gods sake. I can barely order pizza in Italian and I’m going to, not only have a baby, but have a c-section. Which means it will not be the typical in and out drive through process of the USA. I’m going to be there for DAYS. And, unlike the birth of Isabelle, Clay will not be with me round the clock. For one thing, public hospitals here don’t allow partners to sleep over. For another, Hubbie has to take care of Bebe and really, she is my first concern. Which leaves me pretty much fending for myself in a foreign hospital in a foreign country, speaking a foreign language…not that my first hospital experience was so grand (with Isabelle) – in a posh, private highly acclaimed hospital in Washington DC. I felt like the entire experience from admission to check out was a comedy of errors. Although it wasn’t so comic at the time. It certainly felt like none of the staff had a clue about what they were doing (which isn’t rocket science. Delivering babies IS what one does on a maternity ward for goodness sake). So, honestly, I can’t imagine this experience being much worse.

Yet, my anxiety mounts. How will I ask for pain meds? I don’t even remember knowing I needed them last time, I was so out of it. I will be sharing a room. I can barely manage small talk at the café, how am I going to chat with my “roommate” when I’m in the worst shape of my life? Last time I wasn’t able to sit up or roll over or pick up the baby and I relied completely on my husband to bring her to me for nursing. How will I manage? Will I have to ring the nurses constantly to bring her to me? What if they give her sugar water or a bottle in the nursery, against my wishes? How will I even know?

And once I am out of the hospital…oy the recovery. I don’t relish another c-section recovery. The first was less than enjoyable and now I know what’s coming. I’m worried my daughter (2.9) will feel neglected by me when I can’t pick her up or hold her the same way because of the surgery. I’m worried she will feel put out by the baby. I’m worried about being on our own in a foreign country. Hubbie hurt is knee yesterday and I almost flew into a panic. I’ve never felt so vulnerable before. I feel like I rely on him completely here (for language and now for everything physical, including picking up our daughter). I used to feel so independent. I led wilderness trips in Yosemite, chased bears out of campsites, climbed high altitude mountains! I never felt invincible, but I certainly felt in control. Now I feel…vulnerable.