Wriggly, round, and completely disoriented, Carlo Jordan Tursi makes his presence known in this world…loudly. He calms down quickly in his father’s arms, a testament to his sweet nature. The best part is, he arrives just how mama wants: exactly on time. Here is his birth story.

You’re not due tomorrow?

Conceived in April 2022, Baby Tursi II seems chill from the get go. I barely have morning sickness and, aside from showing early, I am mostly able to ignore that I’m pregnant. At some point around the 20-week mark, Jordan says he keeps forgetting that a baby is on the way. Easy to do when you have a 15-month-old toddling around (and you aren’t the one with wicked heartburn).

I try to stay active during this pregnancy, but running soon goes out the window. Crossfit is a no go. Skiing is out of the question. I walk a lot, until my belly grows so big that even walking is difficult.

I still have two months to go.

We go back East to visit family over Halloween and attend a cousin’s first birthday party. I waddle in; mouths gape. Two women stop me in the hallway and ask when I am due.

“Guess.” I tell them.

Being New Yorkers, they do not baulk at this challenge and, in the best Queen’s accents you’ve ever heard, one says, “Tomorrow.”

The other guesses, “Yesterday!”

“Next year,” I say. It’s November 5.

The look on their faces – once they pick them off the floor – is priceless.

An Unlucky Due Date.

I wish I could say that our journey to get to number two is an easy one, but just like with Lucca, I have two miscarriages. One of which requires an abortion. Given our advanced (maternal) ages, and my particular procreational deficits, we decide we’ll try for two more months, then call it quits.

I see two blue lines. I am pregnant.

The due date is January 13. A Friday. Some might consider this bad luck, but I was also born on the 13th, so I take it as a good omen. I would prefer more time between Lucca’s January 8 birthday and baby number two, but sometimes the universe has a dark sense of humor.

Schedule that cesarean!

Lucca was born via an unplanned c-section following days of labor. The experience left us traumatized, and I don’t want to go through that again. While I have lots of other reasons for choosing a planned c-section, the truth is we shouldn’t make people, especially anyone with a uterus, explain their healthcare choices. Full stop.

The toughest decision is when. I want to push this birth as far from Lucca’s birthday as possible. If I’m being honest, I also want to delay the inevitable. As miserable as the final days of pregnancy are, being on the other side with a tiny, screaming tyrant is worse. Lucca was 11 days late, but the docs wouldn’t let me go past Baby II’s due date.

So Friday the 13th it is. I want the first appointment slot of the day.

The big day!

With my sister in town minding Lucca (thanks Titi!), we arrive at the hospital for our scheduled 7am appointment. The halls are still dark as I waddle to the appropriate wing.

“I’ll have one baby, please!” I joke with the nurse on duty.

They take us back to the pre-op room. I change into the infamous hospital gown and get an IV. Everything is going as expected.

I do not, however, expect one of the nurses to whip out a hair clipper and start buzzing… down there. You can thus imagine my shock when she takes out a big, plastic glove. With her hand secured inside, she peels off the outer layer to reveal adhesive (think an over-the-hand lint-roller). Which she uses it to … remove … the clippings.

We all have a good laugh about that.

Jordan puts on a ridiculous frock for the surgery, and all that stands between us and our baby is a long hallway. They let me walk myself.

The operating room is cold and full of people. Twelve, to be precise. I heft myself onto the table and they get to work . I’m happy to not have any of the violent shaking I went through last time. And I don’t puke. Double win.

He’s here!

At 8:41am, a little boy weighing 8lbs, 11oz, is ripped from his cocoon. He is decidedly livid at losing his cozy spot in the only home he’s ever known. The doc holds him up and Jordan announces we’ve had another boy. He was convinced a girl was on the way.

We both get to hold him for a bit. He’s cute in the newborn sort of way. But I can’t hold him by myself and Jordan has to step out because his suit is stiflingly hot, and since I just made a human being and have barely slept in months, I maybe nod off for a few minutes. Listen, it’s taking a while. A second c-section requires more work given the scar tissue, and I have them do a few other improvements while they’re in there. A nip here. I tuck there. By which I mean, I have my tubes removed.

Cancer-Reduction Bonus: Sterilization!

I believe that everyone’s reproductive choices are their own private business, but I’m sharing this because a friend shared her decision to have this done, which helped me know that it was the right choice for me. We don’t want more kids (I especially don’t need to have another miscarriage), and because I was already open, now was the best time for a Salpingectomy.

A Salpingectomy completely removes your fallopian tubes – the highway between your ovaries and uterus. Without tubes you are sterile (aside from IVF), but still ovulate and have a period every month (rude). The procedure has relatively few downsides (none if you’re already having a cesarean), but huge upsides when it comes to cancer:

“Recent research has shown that the most common type of ovarian cancer starts as abnormal cells in the fallopian tubes….Ovarian cancer is very hard to diagnose early. The disease rarely has easily noticeable symptoms in the beginning, and there is no effective way to screen for it. Because of this, most women with ovarian cancer are diagnosed and treated after it has spread elsewhere within the pelvis and abdomen. At that point, surgery and chemotherapy are less effective.”

“A 2022 Canadian study of nearly 26,000 women who had their fallopian tubes removed in place of tubal ligation or in addition to a hysterectomy found zero cases of the most deadly type of ovarian cancer among them.”

Making this choice felt like a no-brainer, and I want to spread the good word. Less cancer! Get your tubes out!

Carlo Jordan Tursi: Let the adventure begin!

With the baby delivered and the tubes removed, we are ready for our recovery room. We stop repeatedly for me to hurl into a bag – not a pleasant experience immediately following major abdominal surgery where another human being is removed from the inside of your body. By 11am we are settled and eating our first meal. We call our families on video.

We spend two nights in the hospital. Having learned from our first rodeo, we prioritize lactation specialists, food, and sleep, in that order. Baby passes every test with flying colors while we watch the Seahawks lose in the playoffs. Everything is going smoothly…. except for the name.

A girl’s name we have. Siena Irene, after the town in Italy (to match with Lucca) and Jordan’s grandmother, who lived to be 100. But a boy’s name we do not have. Jordan has a front runner. I have another. We cannot agree.

Round and round and round we go until one of us wears the other down. It’s the last thing we do before we can leave the hospital. In fact, the decision keeps us here a few hours later than intended. But we do it. We make a human, and name him too. We announce, formally, our tiny cherub: Carlo Jordan Tursi.

Welcome to the family little one. We’re so glad you’re here.