Before he was born we were trying to find a name that was Italian but not too Italian. We knew he would be raised in the United States and we wanted him to fit in among friends and not have one of those names too hard to pronounce. “What about Guissupe?” I asked. “No, we are not naming him after your first husband, everyone will call him Joe.” He paused thinking, “maybe Enrico after my father”. It was my turn to balk, “No, everyone will be calling him little Rico." We both laughed.

I really liked Giovanni but maybe it was a little over the top. If the baby turned out to be a girl she would have been Monica but I knew it was a boy. “how can you know that it’s a boy?” someone would ask me, “because I’ve met him”, I would say.

We settled on Matteo. It was easy to say and it was a name also used in Spanish which was more and more the language of California where we lived.

I spoke to Matteo while he was in the womb and we had sweet conversations.

“Hey little guy”

“Yes”

“We are really looking forward to meeting you”

“Me too”

“You are so loved”

“I know”

I would sit alone with one hand on my belly feeling him roll and turn. I could imagine his elbow as it jutted out on my brown flesh. I made up songs and sang to him. They were not jolly songs but they were full of all the tenderness I had. I loved this boy and his presence even before I held him in my arms. Unlike when my twins were stuffed inside my 19 year old belly, so uncomfortable I couldn’t eat the last few days, Matteo seemed to fit just right.

My twins were nine soon to turn ten that June. Matteo's birth date was estimated to be May 20th. In my sixth month I wrote a book for Josh and Tori called "Hey there's a baby loose in our house". I had illustrated by a friend and published just two copies, one in a blue hard cover and the other in red. It was a large story book size 12 by 8 inches and about a half inch thick. They giggled when they saw the drawings that represented each member of our family. Their favorite was of me laying on the couch, belly up in the air, one arm draped over the top of the couch, one leg on the floor, asking Josh to bring me some water. In it I wrote "Joshy could see that mommy was getting larger and larger. He would call her munchy mommy and rub her big belly". They would have me read that story to them over and over. The other favorite part was when I'd say all the names we had considered!

There is a photograph of me wearing a blue top and red pants, holding a little bag with my Lamaze focus items. In the drawstring bag clutched tightly atop my fullness there were flameless candles, aromatherapy items (lavender spray, peppermint pulse point oil, vanilla body balm), and a handheld battery powered fan. A small suitcase is on the floor with my own pillow and delivery outfit. The twins stand nearby ready to be dropped off at our friends home on the way to the hospital. Paolo must have tidied them up because Tori’s curly hair was brushed and Joshies was out of his eyes. They looked more like they were heading for a play date instead of being woken up before dawn to go back to sleep.

On the road to the hospital I felt every bump in our Izuzu Trooper. I asked Paolo if he could slow down. He was so happy and so excited and based on the little vein that protrudes down the middle of his forehead, a little scared. Here we were about to have our first child together. If it were a boy, the reconciliation with his family would proceed rapidly. The first born grandson in an Italian family has a place of importance that transcends all other concerns. Concerns that led his mother to offer to write me a check not to marry him.

“You are lovely my dear” she croned. “But not for my son, he has an important future and doesn’t need to start with two of someone else’s children. I want to help you so you can let him go, how much?” There were at least three beats of silence from me and then I politely said “You’ll have to talk with your son about that.”

A pain broke my reverie and I asked Paolo to slow down. “Are you sure baby?”

“Yes, we have time”. We didn’t have too much time. Once in the birthing room the pains began to come moments apart. I was in a private room without any medical devices. It had lovely cool blue wall paper, furniture with wood accents including a sweet upholstered rocker for my moments after the birth. Paolo sat on the edge of the bed covered with a white crotched throw I had brought since it had been made by our dear friend Helen who was now in her 80’s.

My husband had piercing green eyes and long eyelashes, curly brown hair with the beginnings of silver even though he was only 28 years old. He was raised to be a gentleman and he was mostly gentle. In the few hours of my labor he breathed with me, never took his eyes off me and was perfect as a birthing partner could be. He watched the monitor and could see the escalation of my pain, he could see it descending and would sweetly say… ‘this is the worst of it… its coming down… there you are…”

I was calm and ready and managed the pain well until the last twenty minutes which was one long contraction. I asked the doctor if I could change my mind and take drugs now. He smiled and said it was too late. This baby is coming in the next few minutes. The few minutes didn’t seem soon enough. I knew my cervix was opening, I knew I was not to resist it but I didn’t feel I could bear it anymore and wanted desperately to leave my body somehow. I watched Paolo and could see in his eyes the worry and fear as he watched the monitor and the pain stayed at a peak. "Okay baby, you are doing good, you are doing good, okay baby, you are doing good, you are doing good" He repeated the mantra over and over because the pain was not following its natural curve. Momentarily I let go of my resistance and then a peace descended, flooding my senses. In the middle of all the contractions I became aware of him and I said to Paolo “Matteo is coming “ tears spilling out of my eyes. He patted me on the shoulder and said “yes love’ and the doctor smiled and said ‘we will see, since you didn’t want to know the sex, we won’t know until that moment”.

Because I had prepared for him and prepared for this moment with special exercises and mental rehearsals, I pushed with precision and strength and on the fourth push he was delivered. Before the doctor declared it I said “he is here.” And the doctor confirmed, “yes he is, congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Vianson you have a son”.