So we were blessed with Brayden, and when she was four months old, I got pregnant with Kellen. When he was eight months old, I got pregnant with Kendrie. And there we were, at the end of our whirlwind ---- three babies in thirty months. I was thrilled with my family, and love those kids more than anything, but felt a little sad that part of our life was over. We waited years to have kids, and then had them so quickly that by the time I looked up and caught my breath, we were done. Ride over. Please exit the car to the right, watch your footing, and make sure to leave no personal belongings behind.
At this point in our life we were stationed in Ohio and I was involved in my mother’s club, where I had met lots of wonderful, wonderful girls. (I know, it’s probably more p.c. to say “ladies” or “women”, but I still feel like a girl, even today. Will I ever grow up? Probably not.) The mom I had met and clicked with more than anyone was a girl named Kim. (Hey, Kim, if you’re reading this, hope you don’t mind me putting your life story out here!) Kim and I connected initially because Kellen and her son were only a few weeks apart in age. We became friends because of them, and continue to be friends to this day, because she is one of the warmest-hearted, funniest, most gracious, easy-going, up-for-anything people I have ever met. Kim and her husband had always wanted a big family, so it was thrilling to me that the day we brought Kendrie home from the hospital, they announced they were pregnant with their second baby.
At first, sad because my pregnancy with Kendrie had just ended, I thought, “Yippee, I can continue to be pregnant vicariously through her!” Then quickly realized I didn’t want any part of her pregnancy, vicarious or not, because she was sick as a DAWG. I hadn’t been around that many pregnant friends in my life, and simply didn’t grasp that it was possible for someone to feel that crappy, and puke that much, for the entire pregnancy. Geez, I felt terrible for her. (I still shudder, and feel a little nauseous on her behalf, just thinking about it.)
We started joking around that it was unfortunate her pregnancies were so awful (because she had been just as sick the first time) since she and her husband wanted six kids. And there I was, with such easy pregnancies, but was done with my family. Eventually that segued into “I like being pregnant, but you want more babies … I should just carry them for you!” type jokes, and we kidded around during her pregnancy about how I thought her husband was nice-looking, and I would be happy to bear his child. It was very good natured, and all in fun. Nine months later her son was born, and the kidding around stopped. She wasn’t sick anymore, and the conversations died a natural death. We had moved on to other, more life-shattering and urgent topics, like “Will my boobs EVER return to normal when I’m done breastfeeding?” and “How many times have YOU been hit in the face while changing your son’s diaper?”
A month went by …. two months … and I started to feel antsy. My conversations-in-jest with Kim were resonating in my head; comments made in fun about “I could just carry your babies for you” went round and round in my brain. Finally, one day, I turned to Blaine and said, “You know what? I really could carry someone’s baby, don’t you think?” Blaine, bless his heart, was like, “Uh, ok sure. But are they ready so soon, do you think?” and I said, “No, not them. Somebody who really, truly DOES need a surrogate. I think I could do that.”
And the more I thought about it, the more it sounded like a great idea to me.