Three Weeks

Well, it’s been three weeks since the d&c, and four weeks since the miscarriage. I am feeling much better physically and mentally. Blood tests have shown that my hormone levels are *almost* back down to normal, which means I am now only a raging shrew in private, as opposed to publicly, like I was there for a while.

Thanks to all of you for being patient with me while I took a break from the surrogacy story. It felt a little too weird and traitor-y to talk about my experiences, and celebrate the things that went right, in the middle of something going wrong.

Please keep all of us in your thoughts while we await test results that will tell us what our next step is …. And in the meantime, I’ll keep blabbing, which is really what I do best. When I left off, I had met, and been subsequently turned down, by the first set of Intended Parents. Instead of being stopped cold in my desire to be a surrogate, like I feared, the counselor recommended I meet the *other* set of parents … the set I had wanted to meet at the beginning.


You know the drill: up at dawn, fly to Baltimore, rent car, consider vomiting on the way because not only do I have the typical nervousness-blotchy-chest-rash-thing going on, but now I know first-hand the experience of rejection. Geez, Louise, I don’t want to go through that again. I mean, what if it really IS me? What if Blaine’s being in the military will scare off any prospective couples? What if I’m just not meant to be a surrogate? What if I’m doomed to live a surrogate-less life, wandering in the desert for forty years like Moses, and I become a sort of surrogate myth, with other surrogates talking about “that girl named Kristie, you remember her, and how she kept getting rejected by couple after couple until she snapped from the disappointment and simply abandoned mankind and...” …. Ok, wait. I’m getting carried away here. Let’s just meet this second couple and see what happens.

That particular morning, our flight had been delayed, and we were late to the meeting. Ahhhh, nothing like making a good first impression. So we were hurrying, rushing from the parking lot, and dashed up the flight of stairs to the office (this was back about thirty pounds ago, when I could still dash up a flight of stairs.) I made Blaine stop for just a second before we stepped into the conference room because I wanted to take a deep breath and calm myself down. There were some glass blocks between where I was standing and the room, and I glanced through them and saw a girl on the other side, also standing, also taking a deep breath. Funny, through the glass, it almost looked like she was nervous.

We stepped in, all smiles, and shook hands while the social worker made the introductions. I looked closely at them, scrutinizing their faces for any signs of anti-military-ness, and all I saw were open, warm, friendly faces. As I reached out to shake the Intended Mom’s hand, she sort of laughed, and said, “I’m so nervous.” And I had to laugh, because I felt the exact same way.

Then the Intended Father turned to Blaine and rolled his eyes, in that guy-to-guy-women-can’t-live-with-em-can’t-live-without-em way, and said, “She packed two suitcases trying to decide what to wear today.”

CLICK.