My Life With Gianfranco

I always wanted to be a mother. And I planned to be a stay-at-home-mom just like my mother. But getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as I thought; my heavy alcohol consumption made my menstrual cycle erratic.

Eventually, I became pregnant with my daughter (Chiara) and my husband and I were happy. I always told myself I would stop drinking when I knew I was pregnant. But I found myself not informing my husband of my pregnancy, so I could keep drinking. This “stopping drinking” thing was harder that I anticipated. Why couldn’t I stop? Okay, yes, I drank a bottle of wine, in my car, before I got home from work [aren’t those screw off tops great!]; and then another bottle by 8:00 p.m. I guess breaking the physical and emotional addiction of getting drunk every night was a problem.

But as time went by, my husband and I prepared for Chiara’s birth, and I kept drinking. Perhaps I cut back a little, but I still got drunk every night of the 40 weeks of pregnancy. Oh, I did try Alcoholics Anonymous; but those ladies were different from me. I was an educated, affluent professor’s wife. I couldn’t handle their reality (or mine), and I drank a bottle of wine, sitting in my car, after every A.A. meeting.

I was always afraid I would go into labor while I was drunk. But as it turned out, I went into labor at noon on September 15, 1995. My daughter Chiara was born 2 ½ hours later. By 5:00pm that same day, my husband and I shared a bottle of champagne. I NEVER MISSED A SINGLE DAY OF DRINKING! None of the doctors had a clue. I said nothing and neither did my Ph.D. husband.

Life as a mother began. I had a healthy baby girl, and I didn’t have to work anymore. My dreams had become reality! I was happy, right?! My husband and I were happy, right?! Shit! This motherhood gig is hard; Chiara is soooo demanding of my time when I would rather be drinking.But I continued to drink, and get drunk every night for the next two years.

Hey! I have a great idea!! Let’s have another child. Cool, I thought. “No”, said my husband. “Not until you can cut down on your drinking. I cannot take care of two kids every evening, plus work all day.” I went off birth control, anyway, and informed my husband. He was not happy. But I was happy, wasn’t I?!

My husband bought condoms, but he got lazy, and we conceived a second child. My life with Gianfranco had begun.

My alcohol consumption had grown, along with my daughter Chiara; and now, my belly was growing again. This pregnancy was going to be a breeze: I wouldn’t even need to stop drinking. Chiara came out fine, Gianfranco would be the same.

But wine was no longer sufficient to numb my life, and I switched to Vodka. Also, I knew I had gained too much weight with my first pregnancy (40 pounds), so this time I would limit my weight gain. Who needs to eat when you have Vodka?

So off we go, for another 40 weeks. But this time, life isn’t so good. I am sick as a dog, and can hardly keep the alcohol down. But I continue to drink everyday, and get drunk every night.  My husband tries to intervene with a “geographical”: physically removing the drinker from the alcohol source. I was taken camping in the middle of nowhere, and when that didn’t work, I was taken to Italy. But nothing could stop me from getting to my alcohol. It was all I lived for, and dreamt about.

My life was spiraling out of control, and my OB/GYN had no clue. She thought Gianfranco was “small for gestational age” and “failure to thrive” because I was not a large person myself, and because Chiara had only weighed in at 5lbs. 12 oz. (alcohol consumption effects size of fetus). I was so proud that I had only gained 10 ponds! 

Eventually, in the summer of 1998, (in my final trimester), my husband blows my cover and tells the doctor I am an alcoholic. Oh, SHIT. Now I really got scared, because I knew my gig was up. I was scared, but relieved.

On the morning of August 25th, 1998, I knew Gianfranco would be born. IT WAS AT THAT MOMENT THAT I DECIDED NOT TO TAKE A DRINK, AND I HAVE NOT TAKEN A DRINK SINCE.

Gianfranco was born August 25th, 1998, in front of a team of doctors, in a specialty hospital for cardiology. You see, a month earlier, the doctor specializing in Neonatology discovered my unborn Gianfranco had a substantial hole in his heart (a Ventricular Septal Defect); it was unknown whether Gianfranco could survive outside of the womb. Everyone was prepared for immediate open heart surgery on my little 4 lb. 8 oz. son. But little Gianfranco did survive on his own – he was a fighter from the start.

Gianfranco was diagnosed, at one day old, with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I was told that the diagnosis would help Gianfranco in the future – I was crushed (spiritually, emotionally, and physically). I was sent off to a psychiatric hospital, and then into alcohol rehabilitation.

Gianfranco survived for three months, with the hole in his heart, before the cardiologists had to patch the whole. I took at least one hundred pictures of my son’s scar-less chest, just to make myself feel less guilty. It didn’t work, but I didn’t drink.

Gianfranco began physical therapy by 4 months old, developmental specialists came to the house weekly, as well as a home health nurse. Occupational therapy began by 6 months, speech therapy at 12 months. Gianfranco had to be taught how to suck and eat, sit up, roll over, crawl, and walk. EARLY INTERVENTION is the key to Gianfranco’s success then, and now!!   

I went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings 7 days a week. I worked the program; I had to. Not only did my life depend on my sobriety, but so did my son’s. Gianfranco’s care was 24 hours a day. The alcohol’s effect on Gianfranco’s brain does not allow him to sleep more than 1 ½ hours at a time. Staying sober that first year took a tremendous amount of work and perseverance. My husband was of no use to the family, except going to work. He utterly and completely shut down. I took care of Chiara and Gianfranco in the midst of shame, guilt, self-imposed anger, and anger imposed by others. “Doing the next right thing” was all I could do.

We all survived the first year of Gianfranco’s life. I made my formal amends to my husband for the wrongs of my drinking. The amends were rejected, as were I and Gianfranco. My husband was in the angry stage . . . and it lasted for the next 5 years. But I continued to do whatever Gianfranco needed to make progress, and included Chiara in all activities. It was the three of us together, we were a team.

When Gianfranco was three years old, I had to make a decision about putting him on medication. I just could not function anymore on 1 ½ hours of sleep at a time.  The pediatric neurologist and I decided to put Gianfranco on Guanfacine (the generic of Tenex). The medication allowed Gianfranco to sleep 2- 2 ½ hours at a time (and therefore, me too!). My decision was not accepted by my husband, and he refused to give Gianfranco his medicine if I was out of the house at an AA meeting. This disagreement over medicating Gianfranco lasted the next 5 years.

I took Gianfranco to every specialist I could find; both in western medicine and eastern medicine. I knew Gianfranco would never be cured, but addressing all of his sensory, neurological, and cognitive deficits from a variety of sources, allowed Gianfranco to make little gains slowly. Gianfranco continued with speech and occupational therapy on a weekly basis. It was my mission to help Chiara, Gianfranco and myself become as mentally, spiritually, and emotionally healthy as possible. My husband was not interested in changing.

Gianfranco entered the public school system at age 3 (as available by federal law). He was given an IQ test (he hovers at 70) and assessed for adaptive skills. Gianfranco qualifies for Special Education under the label MIMR (mild mental retardation). He eventually attended Kindergarten (twice).Amazingly, Gianfranco began to read. He read on grade level, and took great interest in the words used in the books. Gianfranco has an unusual talent of echolalia: he is able to listen to a person speak, and then repeat the whole conversation verbatim hours later (with no rehearsal). I always knew what was going on at school, because he could repeat it back to me. Now granted, he could not comprehend what he was repeating, but this skill broadened his vocabulary to great heights.

In 2004, I decided it was time for the kids and I to move out, and I filed for divorce. I had given my husband 6 years to accept Gianfranco, and forgive me for my wrong doings, but he could do neither. In my move toward independence, I also enrolled in graduate school to get my Master’s degree in Special Education. 

The amount of medicine Gianfranco was taking continued to increase, as his problem behaviors interfered with his ability to learn new skills. I can not tell you how many years I had the IEP (Individualized Educational Plan) goal of expanding Gianfranco ability to stay on task from 5 to 10 minutes. And Gianfranco had violent outbursts of anger and frustration. Throwing large objects was his favorite. I had to learn how to restrain him, so that everybody remained safe.  Then, when Gianfranco turned 8, he acquired physical and vocal ticks. My son now had Tourette’s syndrome. Oh well, what is another diagnosis? Gianfranco was already a bit quirky. And life goes on.

Today, my son is 10 years old, and there are things in his life he has yet to experience: Going over to a friend’s house, having a sleepover, having a best friend. I can set annual IEP goals for a lot of things, but I can’t make someone else be his friend. And that brings tears to my eyes.

I work as a high school special education teacher, specializing in teaching transition skills to take our kids into the world of work and independent living. I am still a single mother (but now with 18 month old Trevor, too). Gianfranco’s sister, Chiara, struggles with her special needs brother. She does not have the patience for his annoying quirks and repetitive self stimulation behaviors. I don’t blame her.

MY SON IS THE BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME. He has made me be a better human being. He has given me patience, tolerance and acceptance. He has given me sobriety. The world is a better place because my Gianfranco is in it.

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