By: Dianté Marigny
editor@portisabelsouthpadre.com
I’ve been a girl mom for nearly a decade. When I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, I remember crying—not out of joy, but disappointment—when they told me I was having a girl. I had always pictured myself raising a son. But by the time I was pregnant again, I hoped for another girl, so my daughter could have a sister. I got my wish, and for years, we were a mostly girl-dominated household.
Now, nine and six years later, our little family has grown. In mid-June, we welcomed our son into the world—our first boy. After three C-sections and many prayers, I finally feel like our family is complete.
Because of medical complications—anemia, a rare blood type, and the risks that come with repeat C-sections—my doctor recommended I have my tubes removed during the delivery. I agreed without hesitation. I even half-joked about a full hysterectomy just to speed up the “bounce back” process, which my OB kindly laughed off. But jokes aside, I knew this would be my last baby.
My partner, on the other hand, is already dreaming of another boy “to even things out.” I told him to start saving for a surrogate.
Despite the usual pain that comes with C-section recovery, life at home has been nothing short of beautiful.
The girls have stepped into their big sister roles with grace and love. They’ve been helping with diapers, bottles, and even keeping me company during long nursing sessions. I’m so thankful Coast was born in the summer, giving the girls time to bond with him before school starts again.
There’s something different about becoming a mom in your thirties. I had my daughters in my twenties, when everything felt like a blur. But now, I find myself savoring every moment. I stare at Coast for hours, admiring his tiny features, his sweet expressions, the peaceful way he sleeps (when he actually does). I don’t mind the sleepless nights or the constant feedings. Every little moment feels like a miracle.
We named him Coast, inspired by the island where he was conceived and now lives. He’s alert, fiesty, and yes—he poops all day. He absolutely hates having his diaper changed, but he’s already got all of us wrapped around his tiny fingers. I get sad thinking about how fast this newborn stage will pass. One day he’ll be as big as his sisters, and the cuddles—while still there—won’t be quite the same.
I didn’t take maternity leave. In fact, I was in the hospital with my laptop the day after giving birth, helping finish our summer tourist guide and working on the latest edition of The PRESS. As Editor-in-Chief, most of my job is digital—assigning stories, editing, writing, and working with our designer. I love what I do, and I didn’t feel the need to press pause.
Each of my birth stories has been different. My first daughter was induced at 40 weeks due to excess amniotic fluid. The induction didn’t go well—I endured painful dilation procedures and hours of labor, only to end up in an emergency C-section that left me traumatized and temporarily unconscious. My second daughter came via planned C-section. The surgery was smoother, but the recovery was somehow harder. This third time, though? Smoothest yet.
The surgery went well, and recovery has been surprisingly manageable.
Now that Coast is here, I find myself doom-scrolling parenting ideas and baby traditions. I’m excited (and slightly nervous) about trading in dolls for trucks, but thankfully, his dad has that part covered.
All in all, our family is overjoyed. Coast has already brought so much love and light into our home. We’re thrilled to be raising him right here on the island—with the salt air, sea breeze, and a whole community ready to watch him grow.
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