A Bouncing Baby Girl

Adorable Marie-Juliette in a sweater and bonnet knitted by her grandmother.

Marie-Juliette was born on December 1st in a large maternity hospital in Milan.  It was a public hospital rather than a private clinic.  At the time we didn’t know the difference.  The experience was very different from the births of her brothers in Evanston, Illinois.

Ospedale Macedonio Melloni today.

I arrived early in the morning at the Macedonio Melloni hospital. The baby was to be induced.  After being prepped, I was wheeled into a large room where 20 or 30 other women were in labor.  It was a very noisy place.  We were tended to by nuns.  Many of the women were groaning and crying out.  The nuns were shouting: “Spingere, spingere” - “Push, push.”  

The mothers-to-be were screaming “Aiuto, aiuto, mamma mia.  Dio!”  “Help, help, mommy. God!”  If they became too crazed the nuns came over and slapped their faces so they would put their energies into the birthing process rather than their histrionics.  Needless to say, this scared me to death so I never uttered a squeak.  I was hooked up to an IV which contained oxytocin to induce labor.  Nothing happened.  After about 6 hours a nun realized the tube was pinched closed.  Once they resolved that problem I went into labor and Marie-Juliette was born shortly before midnight.  Immediately after her birth they whisked her away to the nursery.

I was taken up to the maternity ward and wheeled into a large room with 5 beds.  I was given the bed on the far side by the window.  Some of the ladies greeted me sleepily.  In the morning I met my 4 roommates.  All of them had several children at home.  The woman right next to me was a mother of 9.  These women were wonderfully helpful.  They told me how to care for my baby and helped with the process of breast-feeding.  We had a lot of laughs and although it was noisy when the families came to visit I was happy to have the company.

When I was admitted into the hospital I was told to bring a mug from home, baby clothes, cotton baby blankets and my own nightgown. These items were not provided by the hospital.  Each morning a couple of nuns wheeled a large metal vat of cafè-latte down the hall banging on it’s sides with a ladle.  We got up, walked to the door and held out our mugs.  We received a ladle of coffee-milk and a couple of vitamin-laced biscotti. 

Our cafè-latte  in the maternity ward was a very different libation indeed.

The rest of our meals were WHITE.  Apparently, the old wives’ tale was that a nursing mother should only eat white food for the first week after giving birth.  So the hospital acquiesced to tradition. We were fed fish, rice and mozzarella.  However when my bedmates had visitors, they brought bottles of red Lambrusco wine which was supposed to be ideal for lactating mothers.

A glass of Lambrusco, an effervescent Red Wine from Emilia-Romagna.

The babies were kept in the nursery and were only brought for feedings 5 or 6 times a day.  They were wrapped up in their little blankets like sausages and piled on a metal cart.  The nuns would shout the last name of the baby and just about toss it to the mother who was waiting by the door.   After a half hour, they came back to pick them up.

Marie-Juliette in a pensive mood.

As I remember I stayed in the hospital for about 10 days.  My Italian improved and I was ready to embrace motherhood.