So, this is us

Luca was born on a Tuesday in November. The year was 1996, and the weather was cold with occasional snow showers. The hospital room was very cozy, the midwife comforting, despite her pronounced lisp; especially when she was encouraging me to push. Her S was unusually long - a bit distracting, but hey, we can’t all be perfect. 

As I started to really push, Dan, my husband, started throwing up the rotten chicken sandwich he had found in the nurses’ fridge. Out went the whole birth plan we had so carefully put together - down the drain, literally. Claudia, Dan’s sister, showed up to replace him. It was she and I who met Luca for the first time - and the midwife with the lisp was there too, slapping Luca on the back so that he would take his very first breath, which came a bit later than expected. But arrive it did, along with his first huge scream. 

Luca was ugly: he had a conehead, a red eye and red marks on his face. It took a long time for him to leave my uterus. Three hours, to be precise. He pushed himself out and the effort caused his conehead and the red patches. Somebody put an ugly hat on top of his cone and passed him to me.

That is how we met, me and Luca. In a hospital room, both exhausted and both happy to finally see each other. 

Since that Tuesday, Luca and I have always been together. 

Together when his first diagnosis of Down syndrome came over the phone on a Friday evening. Together when he had his first, then second, then third surgery.

Together when he was diagnosed with Autism.

Together during his many years of home therapy.

Together during all the EEGs, the MRIs, and pokes from doctors and nurses.

Together when he started walking.

Together during his first hard on.

Together during his first seizure, and his second. 

At times, I cried in front of him, but more often I laughed at his goofy way of living in this world, where stealing french fries from other people’s plates at restaurants, or showing up naked during a dinner with friends, is frowned upon.  Luca is a triangle in a world of squares, but he doesn’t care at all. He smiles, touches my hair, and moves along.

This is the story of my life with Luca, also known as mister Shmoo, from a Seinfeld episode where Jerry and his girlfriend called each other Shmoopy, driving everybody else insane. I’ll share our life with whoever wants to read about it; a life I consider to be perfectly normal, but, looking around, seems unique, more colorful, more tiring, and much, much more complex than the average family life.

My name is Marina Viola, I am a proud Milanese woman. I moved to the US almost thirty years ago, following a beautiful man with long, sexy legs. After I locked him out on the porch one night, so he could “think about it really hard”, he “decided” to marry me. We now have three beautiful kids, Luca, Sofia and Emma, two loud dogs, a nasty cat and a bunch of guppies who keep reproducing despite the Petco guy who insisted that they are all males.

I have published three books, but they’re all in Italian, so they don’t really count here. Over there, they were a success, and I am very proud of all of them. I have a blog in Italian, that is widely followed, a podcast (soon to be two), and a few regular columns in Italian magazines and websites. 

The time seems right to enchant the English-speaking world with my stories.

(And yes, I am humble)

#Autism #Parenting #1996