The "Prego Pizza" did, in fact, work.
TODAY is my little boy’s second birthday.
I am so blessed to be mama to this angel with a heart of pure GOLD.
Sweet, silly, and HAPPY as can possibly be…and he has the best manners (although I never imposed this on him), saying “thank you” very sincerely upon receipt of just about anything.
Chapter 21 of my memoir goes in-depth into my home-birth experience…and I wanted to share this little excerpt with you today. It’s light–I think we all need some lightness right now!
If you've been reading this blog, you'll see that my typical diet doesn't include pizza...or meat...so perhaps you'll find some humor in this:
“On the evening of July 14, a few days before my home-birth cutoff date and several hours after my morning acupuncture appointment—which seemed to have had no effect—my sister asked if I’d like to go out for “prego” pizza. I’d never heard of prego pizza before, but it sounded exciting, especially because I had nothing else to do that night. My sister, her husband, their two young children, Mom, Skye, and I met up at an Italian restaurant called Skipolini’s where the infamous prego pizza was first conceived.
As I walked inside, I was bombarded by a series of plaques and awards all over the wall, hailing the great prego pizza, one of which read, “Since 1981, Prego Pizza has been giving hope to pregnant mothers who are just ready to put a happy ending to a long nine months.” I liked the sound of this place already.
We sat in a beautiful outdoor garden as the sun went down. Something about that night felt so profound—our whole clan together, my sister and me both about to give birth. Small lanterns strung over the large swaying trees lit up, and the whole garden came alive, buzzing with the excitement of new life.
My sister went inside to order as the rest of us chased toddlers around the garden and wrestled them into high chairs.
“Please get me a salad, too,” I called out, as Leandra walked inside. “I can’t only eat pizza. Oh, and make sure mine is gluten-free!”
She must not have heard me because twenty-five minutes later, three large pizzas (and no salad) were delivered to our table. All I could do was stare wide-eyed at the massive pies, complete with every possible topping covering every square inch and piled high. I noticed several types of meat—sausage, ham, pepperoni, meatballs, to name a few. This is the prego pizza? I hadn’t even glanced at the ingredients before my sister ordered. Who needs to read a menu when you’ve already read twenty testimonials about how prego pizza is the Holy Grail for moms-to-be? I was certainly not prepared for this. I hadn’t eaten meat in over a decade.
Eventually I gave in, wincing in preparation for the first bite. “I can’t believe I’m going to eat this. All I can say is this better work.”
–Excerpt from Eris Rising: A Memoir of Finding the Warrior Within by Courtney Ramm
Releases Sept. 29, 2020