Giavonna Grace Guise

 “She was perfect. I knew this the moment she emerged from my body, white and wet and wailing. Beyond the requisite ten fingers and ten toes, the beating heart, the lungs inhaling and exhaling oxygen, my daughter knew how to scream. She knew how to make herself heard. She knew how to reach out and latch on. She knew what she needed to do to survive. I didn’t know how it was possible that such perfection could have developed within a body as flawed as my own, but when I looked into her face, I saw that it clearly was.”
― Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The Language of Flowers

Wow, it has been a LONG time since I last wrote, but between the exhaustion of the third trimester and craziness of having a three month old, I haven't been able to carve out time for writing. I'm hoping that can begin to change. Life has become an amazing adventure, and I can't wait to update you with all the exciting details!

Firstly and most importantly, my beautiful baby was born! Here's some photos of me the last month of my pregnancy:

08/23/14

08/30/14

08/31/14

To think I went into labor three days after the last picture was taken! I was definitely ready to get that show on the road, and apparently so was Giavonna =) Being nine months pregnant in August is not for the faint of heart. I would get winded and dizzy when walking from the truck into church (normally a two or three minute walk turned into at least five minutes), the New Jersey heat was literally like a bathtub, so thick you could swallow it some days. I would waddle behind my brisk husband, huffing in gulps of air, wondering if I could make it to the door or if I should just sit down in the middle of the street and take a break. Lol that would have been a sight. My husband teased that walking at my pace was torture for him, but I clung to his arm anyway, not trusting myself to make it into the air conditioned building on my own. So aside from the occasional dips in my grandmothers pool I spent my summer indoors. I missed the camping trips my husband and I would take, the concerts under the stars, going for long drives. By the end of the pregnancy I couldn't sit in a the truck very long or my sciatic nerve would start screaming, so I became a couch potato, counting down the days until my due date. Now there were some wonderful moments towards the end, like watching Giavonna dance across my belly or getting the house ready for her arrival, but overall I was antsy to meet her and completely over being pregnant.

Early labor lasted for a few days. The contractions started in my lower back, as if my back muscles were tightening into a fist and then releasing. I know that's a strange description but I can't explain it any other way. It was a deep, spasm-like pain that reached it's long fingers into my back, curled around my muscles, and then suddenly disappeared. Sometimes the contractions would be twenty minutes a part, sometimes sixty or ninety minutes a part. Sometimes they would stop altogether until the next day. Russell and I always had our timer in arms reach, so we could decipher if it was hospital time. The contractions didn't become regular until September 3rd. They were within ten to thirty minutes of each other, and I just had a feeling that it was time. Our first trip to the hospital was unsuccessful, and we were sent home undilated and with a high, soft cervix. I was so frustrated that I cried in the examination room, but the nurse encouraged me saying she believed the baby would be ready soon. So Russell, my mom and I drove back home, me still believing that my labor would progress that night. Around 10pm that night the contractions changed, and by 1am we were on our way back to the hospital, with contractions between 3 to 5 minutes a part. I was reexamined and it was discovered that I was 4cm dilated, hallelujah this baby was on her way!

The timer on Russell's phone- it was baby time!

Active labor is intense. The constant rhythm of back and pelvic pain jealously demands your concentration. I had my heart set on a natural labor, without medication, and by the grace of God I was able to experience that, but I would not have been able to get through labor without my support team, a hand held fan, and God's presence in that hospital room. The room was sterile and unfamiliar, but somehow cozy. I felt safe. I moved from the bed, to leaning against the wall, to my husband's arms, to sitting on a birthing ball, to finally settling into a rocking chair, it was the only thing that didn't transform the pain into something unbearable. My husband and I got into a rhythm, I'd whisper "fan" once a contraction started and he would hold the fan in front of my face until I slumped back against the chair, exhausted and preparing for the next contraction. Visual therapy was a constant beacon of hope to which I clung during the contractions. I would picture a white cross on top of a grassy hill or the beach a night time. Both reminded me that Christ had suffered so that we would have new life, which is what a laboring mother symbolically experiences, she suffers so that new life can burst forth into the world, so those images offered me an anchor to cling to. I knew I could get through it because He was with me. Sometimes I would mentally recite parts of Romans 5: 3-5  "3Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Labor was an intimate connection to the Lord, a quiet communion with Him. His peace coated the images in my head, His Word would repeat in my ear, He was holding Giavonna and I throughout the whole labor, and it was beautiful. Her birth will always be a precious memory for me, not only because she was finally entering the world, but also because I spent the last moments before becoming a mother in worship and communion with my Savior. I will cherish those moments. Among relying on the Lord I also practiced relaxation techniques like loosening my hands and jaw during each contraction, that way the baby could descend through my pelvis easier and my body would be in a more relaxed state. Russell would gently remind me to breathe or relax throughout the labor, being my cheerleader and constant comfort. My mom also kept close throughout the labor, relieving Russell so he could steal a snack before racing between the delivery room and the waiting room where my family and friends were anxiously awaiting Giavonna's arrival.

Back: Mom Guise, Granna and Dougie. Front: Pop Guise and Pop Ale. Everyone excited for Gia's birth!

Granna and Doug waiting for updates and pictures

A tired Pop waiting for some news

Meme keeping up with updates

And then the pushing began. It's like a tight fist pushing down, acting as a sounding trumpet to make way for the baby, it's painful but exciting. I tried pushing while on my knees, bending over the couch, but I finally made my way to the bed and began the hard work of forcing Giavonna past my tail bone and out into the world. Mom held one leg, Russell held the other, and I crunched my still huge belly while pulling my legs towards me, screaming out exhales and using muscles I didn't even know I had. Pushing lasted 1-2 hours. I was beginning to lose a lot of steam and feeling weak when the nurse took my hand and pressed it against the crown of Gia's head. I felt her long curly hair, and was renewed and ready to finish this. After a few pushes later her head completely popped out, I remember hearing the nurse, doctors, Russ and mom shouting, "Her head's out! She's out! Push again! One more time!" I gave one more hard push and felt her body slip out, the way a fish feels when it's squirming in your hand, and heard her beautiful cry. She was out. My baby was born. Russell and mom were crying over the wonder of her, and I held her warm, wet body against my chest. She was beautiful, with thick black hair and dark blue eyes. She weighed 7lbs 13 ounces and was 20 inches long. She was born at 10:16am on September 4th.

Giavonna Grace Guise

Mom and pop relaying the exciting news

The first few hours were a glorious blur. It felt surreal. My family and friends shuffled in to celebrate Gia's birth while I laid in bed, cradling my sweet newborn baby, so happy to finally be holding her and preparing for sleep. Russ had a hard time sleeping, he would jump up and check on Giavonna every time she made a noise in her sleep, hovering around his firstborn. I, however, slept like a log haha. I was exhausted and took full advantage of my sore body, only getting up to use the shower or do a short lap around the room. I had a broken tailbone, some stitches, and the standard pain of a post birthing experience, but overall I was so happy to have Gia with us. We remained in the hospital until September 6th.

Giavonna in my arms her first night

Me snuggling Giavonna on Sept 5th

Skin on skin bonding with daddy

Gia and daddy

Poppop Guise and Gia

Night night Giavonna

I can't express the joy you feel when bringing home your baby for the first time. It's a declaration that yes, this experience was real, and now everything has changed. I couldn't wait to wake up and see her snuggled up in her co-sleeper, to sing her to sleep in the rocking chair Granna and poppop bought for us, to cheer on her milestones and wipe away her tears. Stepping into the truck with my baby was like stepping into a whole new life.

It felt so wonderful to get that postpartum shower, ohhh I can still remember how wonderful that hot water felt against my tired body. 

Goodbye hospital room

Where Russ and I ate our meals

Another angle of the room

Gia's take home outfit

A nurse wheeling Gia and I out of the hospital. We're going home!!

Sleepy girl

After Gia's first bath in her home!

Daddy lovin on his baby

Mommy showered and holding her angel

And so that's the story of our wonderful baby's birth. She's healthy and growing quickly, she's already 13 weeks old! But I'll write another entry to catch everyone up on the first three months of her life. Right now I just want to end with Scripture, because I think God sums up motherhood in these words:

"Children are a gift from the Lord;
    they are a reward from him." Psalm 127:3

What this baby represents...

"Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons." ~Author Unknown

      I don't think anyone can claim that their childhood was a fairytale, there are ups and downs to every story. When I think about the ups that I experienced as a child, a few memories come to mind:

- How the house would smell when my brother and I would tear open the bright red front door of our childhood home in Fairton, NJ, after a long day at school. My mother's culinary creations would saturate every nook and cranny of our large farm house, and the smell I remember the best was hot, gooey chocolate chip cookies perfuming the air. My mom would wait for us either at the door, or, more commonly, behind the kitchen island, that way she could watch us race down our long driveway and pull out the cookies as we were opening the door. She always had a warm, beautiful smile across her face as she'd tell us how much she missed us that day and how excited she was to hear about what we learned. As a child I used to think adults would ask, "what did you learn?" as a form of small talk, they couldn't possibly care about the differences between a Cumulus cloud and a Altocumulus cloud, but as a woman I've come to realize I was wrong. One of my favorite conversations to have with my baby cousins is to find out what they learned that day, it swells me with pride. Anyway, those conversations and her wafting afternoon treats are memories that I consider sacred, and it's a tradition I plan to pass on.

- Another memory I have involves food and my mom again. When I was younger I had a passion for soccer, I would run around chasing that little black and white ball for hours at practice during blazing hot afternoons. I remember the New Jersey heat would be so stifling that you literally felt like you were melting away. I remember seeing my mom's SUV pull into the school parking lot after practice and running over to be greeted by an icy cold air conditioner and McDonalds. My mom always knew exactly what I needed, and she worked hard to keep me comfortable.

- As a child, my parents fostered my tremendous passion for animals. I had countless furry friends, from rabbits to guinea pigs to birds to dogs and cats. One very special friend was my dog Biscuit. He was a gorgeous springer spaniel, with giant splashes of black and white across his body, and expressive brown eyebrows, who was unusually large for his breed and incredibly gentle. He and I would go on countless adventures in the woods, exploring hidden flower patches or climbing broken trees. A few times I packed he and I a picnic lunch and we would go off, finding a lovely patch of God's green earth to nibble on the treats I packed before continuing to explore. He was a wonderful dog, the best dog a young girl could have.

- The last memory I'll share is one time when I got into trouble with my parents, I was young. I was crying in bedroom, angry and upset, when my little brother poked his head into my bedroom. He wasn't older then 6 or 7 years old, and he looked at me with compassion and companionship. He told me not to worry, he'll find me some toys for me to play with and try to convince my parents to un-ground me. Dougie and I have always been each other's defenders.

I'm sitting on the left side of the bench in the back. On the right is my brother and my beautiful mom is standing behind him. This encompasses so many memories, my mom taking Doug and I on some adventure. This one, I believe, is a Brownies meeting

      I could go on and on...most of my very best memories are spent with my mother or outside. I grew up in a very tight-knit family, from both my mother and father's side of the family. My mom was raised in a matriarchal family, supported by strong, educated women who involved themselves in every aspect of eachother's lives. The husbands tended to quietly smile and let their wives take care of family details, which the women were more then happy to do. My Granny and Poppop would host big 4th of July parties in their backyard, there would be swimming, tons of food, and an unlimited supply of popsicles (which one could sneak constantly, if one avoided their mother). My Granna and Poppop would plan all the details of the summer beach house, who's birthday was coming up, and what party they would be hosting. My family took my education very seriously, Granna spending hours going over my home work and correcting my penmanship, wanting nothing to be denied to me based on my grades, encouraging me to take pride in my work. It was an uphill battle for them (why study my "spelling list" when I could be playing outside?) but my family eventually taught me the importance and permanence of an education, money and relationships can be taken away, but you can never be stripped of a degree. My mother's side of my family also taught me the value of loyalty. It didn't matter who was mad at who, if a family member was struggling the mother hens of the family would flutter about, cleaning that family's member house, cooking them meals and encouraging that person to keep moving. If someone became ill, my whole family would encircle them, taking that individual's responsibilities on as their own. I witnessed this first hand with the passing of my great-grandfather. He was surrounded by my family when he passed, my mother watched him take his last breath. There was never moment my Poppop had to struggle alone. I guess that would sum up what my mother's side instilled most into my being: to celebrate life's joys and tread through life's trials together, no one was left behind.

My graduation from CCC with my Associates degree in 2010, this wouldn't have happened if my family hadn't pushed me to believe in myself.

FRONT: Dave, mom, Kevin, Taylor, Granna, me. BACK: Aunt Robin, Uncle Kevin and Poppop. We were celebrating Granna's retirement (2010).

      I also had a strong family relationship from my father's side of the family. He came from a traditional Italian-American family, one of four boys, and the Sorantino's had a traditional patriarchal family structure. Most of my memories include some sort of meal, whether it was Meme's spaghetti and meatballs or her Christmas cookies. I was very close to my little cousins, all of whom were little girls with gigantic personalities. Gabby was my goofball, she had bright, inquisitive blue eyes and had a never ending supply of giggles. Amber also filled Meme's house with laughter, her wit becoming apparent even at a young age. Devan was a soft spoken beauty, she was much quieter then her cousins but very observant and demonstrated early on a strong sense of empathy. Lauren was a bright, fiery child with a go-getter personality and a charming, baby-doll face. These little girls encompass so many wonderful memories with the Sorantino side of my family. The many sleep overs where Meme would let us play with her makeup, hair clips and scarves until we came up with the perfect looks, which we would then model for Meme in a runway style show. She would laugh happily, snapping pictures and clapping. My Meme and Poppop taught me the value of creativity and individuality. Meme, who was an art teacher, loved to fine tune my artistic talents, challenging me to look closely at a painting and notice colors I hadn't seen before. She introduced me to exotic historical figures like Renoir, Cezanne, and Monet, I liked to hear her pronounce their names, even though it would be years before I understood just how valuable their works were to the fine arts. She was an enthusiastic cheerleader for my artistic achievements, and helped me become the expressive individual I am today.
 

Dougie and I at Meme and Popppop's house. By the looks of this picture it must have been her annual Christmas Eve party.

Some afternoon tea with my beautiful Meme and cousins. Left to right: Devan, me, Meme, Lauren, Gabby

      I have many beautiful memories from my childhood and my family groomed certain traits into my emotional DNA that I'm thankful for, however, there's always gray clouds surrounding a rainbow. I won't go into many details, but I will say this, through the hard times the people I listed remained by my side. Eventually my wonderful husband entered the picture (in fact, he officially asked me to be his girl friend 7 years ago today!) and my mom re-married a kind-hearted man name David Ale, who inter-meshed with my family perfectly. Last night my mom and I talked about the harder times we shared as I was growing up, and some times in her life where she struggled, and how different this baby's life will be. My husband and I had a similar conversation a few days ago. This baby represents a promise, a new beginning. A chance to protect my child from things I wish I didn't have to go through, and a chance to celebrate experiences that I cherished. I hope this baby lets my Granna teach her how to properly hold a pencil, that she enjoys the crystal blue water in Granna and Poppop's pool as they show her how to hold her breath under water, that she savors every bite of Granna's rainbow pancakes. I hope this baby learns the value of hardwork, education and loyalty. I hope this baby watches Meme flutter her pencil across a canvas, deciding at which angle she wants to begin. I hope he shares his thoughts and ideas about life and faith with her over a plate of cookies. I hope I'm the type of mother who brings about cherished, lasting memories about everyday occurrences, like how my house smells when I cook. Most importantly, I hope this child can see all the beauty I saw, and reaches far beyond my capabilities.

      You, my darling, are a beautiful promise