I just want to say thanks to all of you who took the time to answer my previous post with a kind word or comment. I always hesitate just a brief moment, finger poised above the “send” button, whenever I type a post that is that personal. Everyone’s entitled to an opinion, but sometimes my skin isn’t the thickest, and I worried a little bit that I would come across as selfish in that entry …. Wanting to have my cake and eat it, too. Thank you all for understanding that sometimes pursuing one route to happiness means eliminating another, and even smart decisions can be bittersweet.
What really validated me were the replies I got from the group of surrogate-girlfriends I’ve had for the past eight years. (Hello, Facebook, not such a worthless time suck after all!) Several of them find themselves in the same place as me …. Two or three surrogacies under their belt, and perhaps considering “retirement” for one reason or another, but not real happy about it. It was helpful to hear that my feelings are normal. Or maybe not normal, but at least my friends are having the same ones, so we can all be crazy together!
The comment that resonated most with me was from my friend Deb, who has carried twins – three times. (yeah, I know, you do the math and NOT be amazed!) She said:
“Obviously I know exactly how you feel. It truly is addicting. It is a huge commitment of time, physically and emotionally. We've done an amazing thing (x3!!) and we should be able to move on from here. I know we're moms & wives, and that is the most important thing we've done with our lives, but for so long my identity was being a surrogate.. So it is what it is. I'm retired. Now what?”
Exactly that, Deb, exactly what you said.
Obviously (why, silver lining, there you are!) there are perks to no longer considering surrogacy. I drove past the blood bank the other day and realized I could donate blood anytime I want, a freedom I haven’t had for quite a few years …. I sorted through heavy Rubbermaid bins in my garage (looking for the freaking Halloween decorations … has anyone seen my big tin pumpkin? I know it’s here somewhere!) and the lifting and pushing and pulling didn’t require me to call Blaine for the heavy work as it has many times in the past …. The bazillion flights of stairs I climbed at Great Wolf Lodge last weekend would have been out of the question … as would the water rides themselves, had I been pregnant ….. I can DRINK whenever I want now -- because I’m *such* a heavy drinker … {eye roll} …. And best of all, I’ve always said when I was done I would be taking a long-awaited and highly-anticipated vacation with my friends Nip and Tuck … so there’s that to look forward to.
So, good things, and sad.
And in the vein of never say never, I’m not ruling it out entirely. You never know what God might throw in your lap, right? So I’ll wait, and think some more. And who knows what might happen?
But for now, I’m coming to peace with it. Or at least trying to.
Showing posts with label Surrogacy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Surrogacy. Show all posts
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A difficult decision
And no, it’s not a post about the merits of chocolate chip vs macadamia nut, although I have given the topic serious deliberation at times in my life …..
Most of you that read on this site know that I have been a surrogate in the past. Three times, in fact. The first time, delivering a baby girl in May of 2002, was an incredible blessing for me. I knew before I was even half way done with the pregnancy that I wanted to do it again. I chronicled that journey here on this site and it was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
The second time, in Aug of 2003, I delivered twin boys for another wonderful couple. That experience, also, was a joyful, blessed event for me, even if it did leave me stretch marks on my stretch marks. It always cracks me up when people comment on what a “giving” thing it is for me to do …. When really, the happiness and fulfillment these families give me, by allowing me to share this miracle with them, is almost impossible to put into words. Again, I knew I wanted to repeat my surrogate experience, before I had even delivered the twins, and couldn’t wait to get started on my third journey.
Odd as it might sound, surrogacy is addicting. I mean, what greater adrenaline rush can there be than helping form families by bringing babies into the world? Not everyone can do it … not everyone even remotely WANTS to do it. But for me, those experiences have been second only to the happiness my own children bring me.
Six weeks after the twins were born, Kendrie was diagnosed with leukemia, and all surrogacy plans were put on indefinite hold. I waited a year and half before even considering starting again, and only then with the total and complete blessing of her oncologist. It took seven months, from the time I met my couple, until the day we found out we were expecting. At that point, Kendrie was only a few months from finishing her treatment, and the pregnancy went along smoothly. A 10 pound, 2 ounce, bouncing baby boy was the result in May of 2006. (I mention his weight every chance I get because holy Stromboli, that was one big baby I pushed out of my bagina!!)
And even then, after that delivery, I still didn’t feel …. Done. Finished. Like I was *through* with surrogacy. I was healthy, I had easy pregnancies, and I love it so much, why not do it as many times as I’m able? So I was very excited to start on my fourth surrogacy attempt, a sibling project with the twins’ parents. They had frozen embryos left from when we got pregnant with the boys, and after the high-caliber success of that journey, we just knew we would be pregnant in no time.
We did our legal work, medical testing, psych testing, etc, and were excited for our first transfer last fall. I didn’t really mention on this blog about the fact we had what is called a blighted ovum (a sac that attaches to the uterine wall, but then doesn’t grow anything in it) and subsequent miscarriage. I had never had a miscarriage in my life, and naturally, we were all very sad. It’s a fact of life, however, in the world of artificial reproduction, that not every attempt will work, every time. So we chalked it up to unfortunate statistics, and geared up for round two. Except, well, about then is when we moved to OKC, then the fertility clinic closed down for the holidays last year. So it wasn’t until early this past spring we were able to try again. Much to our delight, the transfer went as planned, the pregnancy tests were positive and the first ultrasound showed a perfect looking sac. Then, to our dismay, another miscarriage a week or so later.
Lots and lots and lots of testing later, it was suggested by the fertility doctor that my couple try their last remaining embryos with a different surrogate. I won’t lie, I was hurt by her recommendation. And baffled. I’ve been a surrogate three times … and carried twins for this very couple …. How could I suddenly be unqualified to be their surrogate??
I consider this couple to be friends, and have seen first-hand what wonderful parents they are. Of course I want it to work for them, and wish them only the best as they follow the doctor’s advice and try again with a new surrogate.
But still …. Ouch.
I talked to my own doctor about whether in his opinion I was a suitable candidate to carry again …. He said I was. I talked to Blaine about whether I wanted to try it again, starting from scratch with a new couple, or if I should take the doctor’s comments to heart and consider myself “unfit”. He said (spineless jelly fish that he is) that whatever I wanted to do was fine. If I want to try again, he knows how much it means to me and he’ll support that. If I don’t want to try again, that it’s ok to stop and be grateful for the three families I’ve been able to help.
The thing is, I still don’t feel done. I truly believe in my heart that I have the physical and emotional capacity to help another family with their miracle. And after three successful journeys, I certainly don’t want to end on such a negative note. But, it’s time to be realistic, as well.
I doubt everyone realizes the work that goes into being a surrogate. It’s not just that you decide to do it, have a few doctor’s appointment, and BAM! Nine months later a baby pops out.
It’s months and months and potentially even more months of legal contracts and medical testing and practice runs and scheduling issues before you even get to transfer. I would say on average, it’s six months to a year of “prep” work to get there. Then, every time a transfer is unsuccessful, it’s another two or three months before you can try again. Every miscarriage can add several months. And of course, don’t forget the nine months of actual pregnancy. It’s a very exciting, very thrilling, very frustrating period of hurry up and wait. Wait to find the perfect couple, wait on the lawyers, wait to get your appointments, wait to take your tests, wait to get test results, wait to get approval, wait to get your meds, wait to see if everyone is responding to meds properly, wait to see how the egg retrieval goes, wait to see if the embryos thaw properly, wait to see if you’re pregnant, wait to see if the pregnancy sticks ….. And when it works … when everything little piece of the puzzle finally fits together and the stars and planets align and CLICK, a baby is the end result ---- and you get to be present when the baby is handed to his parents for the very first time, and they look at his beautiful face, and then look over and thank you for helping make it happen ---- it’s one of the most magical things on earth.
See why I would want to do it over and over and over?
The thing is, though, that entire time … through all that waiting …. You are at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. The doctors, the clinics, your couple, the egg donors, your own body, etc. Sometimes you have to drop everything and be free to travel; sometimes you are not ALLOWED to travel. You are not allowed to leave the country at all, and not allowed to leave the state in the third trimester. Since we have a cruise planned for next summer, I knew I would have to wait until after that trip before I could try and get pregnant again.
But I had decided that yes, I did want to try again. I just couldn’t shake the feeling of how much I want to be a part of one more miracle. I’m capable … I’m willing …. I’m RIGHT HERE, let’s have another baby for someone!
Then earlier this month I went to Outdoor School with Kellen. That’s something I couldn’t have done if I’d been pregnant … too physical. And I commented to one of the teachers, who has a son the same age as Kellen and a daughter the same age as Kendrie, that in only two more years we’ll get to come back to Outdoor School with our girls. And she reminded me that before that, our boys will take a trip to Florida with the school next year, and we can go as chaperones. And my first thought was, “Ohhhh, fun!” And my second thought was, “Oh, wait, what if I’m pregnant and can’t leave the state?”
So I came home from Outdoor School and sat down with a calendar. And planned out every potential overnight trip or family vacation or school trip for the next three years, that could NOT be done pregnant.
With my first couple, it was eighteen months, start to finish, from the time I first met them until I delivered. My second surrogate journey happened at the speed of lightning, but still, it was almost a year from start to finish. My third journey was again, eighteen months. Since there is no promise that things will run according to schedule, and no guarantee that you will get pregnant on the first attempt, you have to be honest about your time table and what you can and cannot do.
And I was a little stunned, and a lot discouraged, to realize there is no block of time for me in the next three years where I can make it happen, without giving up something with my family. Postponing a vacation, or NOT going on a school trip as a chaperone.
I’ve missed a lot through the years, as a surrogate. I’ve missed baseball games and soccer games and holiday parties at school and birthday parties. And I didn’t mind …. When my kids were younger, those activities happened often enough that missing one or two wasn’t the end of the world. I missed getting to be with Blaine when he got radiation in Seattle because of a surrogacy … both when I was pregnant and not allowed to leave the state of Georgia, and after I delivered, when an epidural headache had me flat on my back and unable to board an airplane. And certainly, Blaine is a big boy and he survived without me. But still.
And, as my kids get older, I see these opportunities to be an active part of their lives coming along, and I don’t want to miss out. I want to take them out of the country on a cruise … I want to take them RV’ing to the Grand Canyon …. I want to take them to see Niagara Falls … I want to be able to go to Florida with Kellen, and Outdoor School with Kendrie, and wherever Brayden winds up going as well. I want to be able to do all those things without planning it around a very-temporary and precarious pregnancy calendar, that potentially can stretch out for a year … or year and a half … or even two years or more, depending on how things go.
Blaine’s cancer coming back again has reminded me that I need to be fully present for my kids. Chasing after toddlers while pregnant --- although tiring --- is doable. Chasing after pre-teens, when you want to go with them places, and travel --- is not as doable. Nobody is guaranteed tomorrow, and blah-blah-sappy-sappy-stuff about making the most of today. Me being pregnant -- getting pregnant – recovering from being pregnant – wasn’t that big of a deal when they were little and **I** was the boss of their schedules. But they are older now, and if I have to choose ……COULD I make it work? Probably. Could I make it work and be fully present in everything I want? Realistically, no. I think, unless I am willing to give up something with my family, that it’s time to let go of my dream of being a surrogate again.
Even if my heart breaks a little bit every time I imagine never doing it again.
Most of you that read on this site know that I have been a surrogate in the past. Three times, in fact. The first time, delivering a baby girl in May of 2002, was an incredible blessing for me. I knew before I was even half way done with the pregnancy that I wanted to do it again. I chronicled that journey here on this site and it was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
The second time, in Aug of 2003, I delivered twin boys for another wonderful couple. That experience, also, was a joyful, blessed event for me, even if it did leave me stretch marks on my stretch marks. It always cracks me up when people comment on what a “giving” thing it is for me to do …. When really, the happiness and fulfillment these families give me, by allowing me to share this miracle with them, is almost impossible to put into words. Again, I knew I wanted to repeat my surrogate experience, before I had even delivered the twins, and couldn’t wait to get started on my third journey.
Odd as it might sound, surrogacy is addicting. I mean, what greater adrenaline rush can there be than helping form families by bringing babies into the world? Not everyone can do it … not everyone even remotely WANTS to do it. But for me, those experiences have been second only to the happiness my own children bring me.
Six weeks after the twins were born, Kendrie was diagnosed with leukemia, and all surrogacy plans were put on indefinite hold. I waited a year and half before even considering starting again, and only then with the total and complete blessing of her oncologist. It took seven months, from the time I met my couple, until the day we found out we were expecting. At that point, Kendrie was only a few months from finishing her treatment, and the pregnancy went along smoothly. A 10 pound, 2 ounce, bouncing baby boy was the result in May of 2006. (I mention his weight every chance I get because holy Stromboli, that was one big baby I pushed out of my bagina!!)
And even then, after that delivery, I still didn’t feel …. Done. Finished. Like I was *through* with surrogacy. I was healthy, I had easy pregnancies, and I love it so much, why not do it as many times as I’m able? So I was very excited to start on my fourth surrogacy attempt, a sibling project with the twins’ parents. They had frozen embryos left from when we got pregnant with the boys, and after the high-caliber success of that journey, we just knew we would be pregnant in no time.
We did our legal work, medical testing, psych testing, etc, and were excited for our first transfer last fall. I didn’t really mention on this blog about the fact we had what is called a blighted ovum (a sac that attaches to the uterine wall, but then doesn’t grow anything in it) and subsequent miscarriage. I had never had a miscarriage in my life, and naturally, we were all very sad. It’s a fact of life, however, in the world of artificial reproduction, that not every attempt will work, every time. So we chalked it up to unfortunate statistics, and geared up for round two. Except, well, about then is when we moved to OKC, then the fertility clinic closed down for the holidays last year. So it wasn’t until early this past spring we were able to try again. Much to our delight, the transfer went as planned, the pregnancy tests were positive and the first ultrasound showed a perfect looking sac. Then, to our dismay, another miscarriage a week or so later.
Lots and lots and lots of testing later, it was suggested by the fertility doctor that my couple try their last remaining embryos with a different surrogate. I won’t lie, I was hurt by her recommendation. And baffled. I’ve been a surrogate three times … and carried twins for this very couple …. How could I suddenly be unqualified to be their surrogate??
I consider this couple to be friends, and have seen first-hand what wonderful parents they are. Of course I want it to work for them, and wish them only the best as they follow the doctor’s advice and try again with a new surrogate.
But still …. Ouch.
I talked to my own doctor about whether in his opinion I was a suitable candidate to carry again …. He said I was. I talked to Blaine about whether I wanted to try it again, starting from scratch with a new couple, or if I should take the doctor’s comments to heart and consider myself “unfit”. He said (spineless jelly fish that he is) that whatever I wanted to do was fine. If I want to try again, he knows how much it means to me and he’ll support that. If I don’t want to try again, that it’s ok to stop and be grateful for the three families I’ve been able to help.
The thing is, I still don’t feel done. I truly believe in my heart that I have the physical and emotional capacity to help another family with their miracle. And after three successful journeys, I certainly don’t want to end on such a negative note. But, it’s time to be realistic, as well.
I doubt everyone realizes the work that goes into being a surrogate. It’s not just that you decide to do it, have a few doctor’s appointment, and BAM! Nine months later a baby pops out.
It’s months and months and potentially even more months of legal contracts and medical testing and practice runs and scheduling issues before you even get to transfer. I would say on average, it’s six months to a year of “prep” work to get there. Then, every time a transfer is unsuccessful, it’s another two or three months before you can try again. Every miscarriage can add several months. And of course, don’t forget the nine months of actual pregnancy. It’s a very exciting, very thrilling, very frustrating period of hurry up and wait. Wait to find the perfect couple, wait on the lawyers, wait to get your appointments, wait to take your tests, wait to get test results, wait to get approval, wait to get your meds, wait to see if everyone is responding to meds properly, wait to see how the egg retrieval goes, wait to see if the embryos thaw properly, wait to see if you’re pregnant, wait to see if the pregnancy sticks ….. And when it works … when everything little piece of the puzzle finally fits together and the stars and planets align and CLICK, a baby is the end result ---- and you get to be present when the baby is handed to his parents for the very first time, and they look at his beautiful face, and then look over and thank you for helping make it happen ---- it’s one of the most magical things on earth.
See why I would want to do it over and over and over?
The thing is, though, that entire time … through all that waiting …. You are at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. The doctors, the clinics, your couple, the egg donors, your own body, etc. Sometimes you have to drop everything and be free to travel; sometimes you are not ALLOWED to travel. You are not allowed to leave the country at all, and not allowed to leave the state in the third trimester. Since we have a cruise planned for next summer, I knew I would have to wait until after that trip before I could try and get pregnant again.
But I had decided that yes, I did want to try again. I just couldn’t shake the feeling of how much I want to be a part of one more miracle. I’m capable … I’m willing …. I’m RIGHT HERE, let’s have another baby for someone!
Then earlier this month I went to Outdoor School with Kellen. That’s something I couldn’t have done if I’d been pregnant … too physical. And I commented to one of the teachers, who has a son the same age as Kellen and a daughter the same age as Kendrie, that in only two more years we’ll get to come back to Outdoor School with our girls. And she reminded me that before that, our boys will take a trip to Florida with the school next year, and we can go as chaperones. And my first thought was, “Ohhhh, fun!” And my second thought was, “Oh, wait, what if I’m pregnant and can’t leave the state?”
So I came home from Outdoor School and sat down with a calendar. And planned out every potential overnight trip or family vacation or school trip for the next three years, that could NOT be done pregnant.
With my first couple, it was eighteen months, start to finish, from the time I first met them until I delivered. My second surrogate journey happened at the speed of lightning, but still, it was almost a year from start to finish. My third journey was again, eighteen months. Since there is no promise that things will run according to schedule, and no guarantee that you will get pregnant on the first attempt, you have to be honest about your time table and what you can and cannot do.
And I was a little stunned, and a lot discouraged, to realize there is no block of time for me in the next three years where I can make it happen, without giving up something with my family. Postponing a vacation, or NOT going on a school trip as a chaperone.
I’ve missed a lot through the years, as a surrogate. I’ve missed baseball games and soccer games and holiday parties at school and birthday parties. And I didn’t mind …. When my kids were younger, those activities happened often enough that missing one or two wasn’t the end of the world. I missed getting to be with Blaine when he got radiation in Seattle because of a surrogacy … both when I was pregnant and not allowed to leave the state of Georgia, and after I delivered, when an epidural headache had me flat on my back and unable to board an airplane. And certainly, Blaine is a big boy and he survived without me. But still.
And, as my kids get older, I see these opportunities to be an active part of their lives coming along, and I don’t want to miss out. I want to take them out of the country on a cruise … I want to take them RV’ing to the Grand Canyon …. I want to take them to see Niagara Falls … I want to be able to go to Florida with Kellen, and Outdoor School with Kendrie, and wherever Brayden winds up going as well. I want to be able to do all those things without planning it around a very-temporary and precarious pregnancy calendar, that potentially can stretch out for a year … or year and a half … or even two years or more, depending on how things go.
Blaine’s cancer coming back again has reminded me that I need to be fully present for my kids. Chasing after toddlers while pregnant --- although tiring --- is doable. Chasing after pre-teens, when you want to go with them places, and travel --- is not as doable. Nobody is guaranteed tomorrow, and blah-blah-sappy-sappy-stuff about making the most of today. Me being pregnant -- getting pregnant – recovering from being pregnant – wasn’t that big of a deal when they were little and **I** was the boss of their schedules. But they are older now, and if I have to choose ……COULD I make it work? Probably. Could I make it work and be fully present in everything I want? Realistically, no. I think, unless I am willing to give up something with my family, that it’s time to let go of my dream of being a surrogate again.
Even if my heart breaks a little bit every time I imagine never doing it again.
Friday, July 11, 2008
The Birth Story
Dear Anonymous: I had the baby. Things went fine. The end.
For the rest of you:
(taken directly from my journal --- not so much “why invent the wheel”, but rather, “I’m really lazy and can just cut and paste instead of composing a whole new story" …)
We met in the hospital lobby shortly before six that evening. We had toured the hospital that very morning and the same nurse we had met earlier was there to show us to our rooms. I was so pleased to discover that they had placed us in adjoining rooms, with the baby’s “room” in between. Anxious, nervous, and eagerly anticipating what lay ahead; we all put our things away and got situated.
I changed into the always-flattering hospital gown (funny how in just a few hours my female anatomy would be on view for the entire world but at that moment I felt self-conscious about my rear end hanging out the back of that gown!) and settled down to business with the admitting nurse. She was incredibly chatty and charming, which put us immediately at ease, by slowed the process considerably. By the time the paperwork was completed and everything was arranged, almost two hours had passed. Finally, around 8pm, the pitocin drip was started. Dr. S arrived at 9pm and broke my water, expressing confidence that things would pick up quickly after that.
By 10 pm I had passed firmly into the realm of “uncomfortable” with contractions every two to three minutes, and requested the epidural. The doctor, who does his own epidurals, had me feeling pleasant and agreeable again by 10:30pm, but I think he was a little surprised to find, at that time, I was only dilated to a six. And at 12:30 am, when he came to re-administer the epidural medication …. Still dilated to a six. Since things were moving fairly slowly (shocker!) we all decided to try and rest for a little while; I actually slept for about an hour. The nurse came back in around 3 am to check me again and see if I needed another boost of pain medication. Knowing that I am a slow-crawling tortoise when it comes to labor, I was lying down thinking, “please let me be a seven, please let me be a seven” when much to my surprise she announced I was completely dilated and effaced, ready to begin pushing.
The doctor (who had gone off to sleep, waiting for me to do something!) and my IF were awoken and everyone got into place. Either the epidural had worn off just enough for me to feel a little of the contractions, or perhaps it was the pressure of the baby’s station, but I was able to tell the nurses when it was time to push each time. That made me feel like I was in charge of things … which of course I wasn’t, aren’t these babies in charge already, whether we want to admit it or not??
I began pushing at 3:30 am and discovered immediately that my delivery nurse was the slowest counter in the history of the planet. After the first series of pushes, when I had to exhale and start over and she was still only up to “six”, I told her she needed to count faster, or somebody else better do it instead. I mean, just how long can you hold your breath and push with all your might when you’ve got a stomach the size of Mt. Everest and your knees up over your head??? Not the most comfortable, or flattering, position in the world.
Anyway, I pushed for about half an hour and made some progress, but not as much as the doctor thought I should. (Again, shocker!) We realized the reason the baby wasn’t coming down like she should was that she was “sunny side up” and kept catching on my pubic bone (or, as her 11-yr old brother announced to his grandmother on the phone the next day, “The baby was caught on her pubic hair!!”) I was starting to feel a little ineffective, even though the atmosphere in the room was very calm and collected. In between contractions we would all just wait patiently for the next series of pushes, telling jokes or chatting. I felt a little embarrassed, though, that everyone was standing around waiting ON ME and I wasn’t accomplishing more. I guess that’s the way it goes sometimes. It’s awkward, though, when your doctor is yawning between contractions!
Finally, the doctor said his attempts to turn the baby face-down weren’t working and it might take up to another hour for me to push her out like she was. He wanted to use a suction extractor if that was ok with all of us. I only wish he had suggested it earlier --- two pushes after he attached that rubber cup to her head and out she popped!
It was a very exciting moment, and they laid her on my stomach just long enough to wipe her off before wrapping her in a towel and handing her to her parents. I had previously told the doctor I wanted her to go directly to her parents – they had been waiting nine long months to hold their new daughter and I didn’t want any kind of delay once she was available to them!
Of course it was a joyful birth, with everyone in the room happy and laughing and smiling. There were only a few happy tears shed; mostly we were all too busy congratulating each other. And despite my previous insistence that my IF not be allowed to cut the umbilical cord, because of my freaky weirdness and how much I hate the symbolism of it, when the time came and I saw the doctor prepare to cut it, I shouted out loud (obviously in a moment of drug-induced insanity), “Let her big brother do it … he should have an important job to do!” And such was how an eleven-year old boy wound up cutting the umbilical cord, with an awesome view of my recently-birthed-a-baby-crotch, and is most likely scarred for life and will probably never have sex in his life ever.
After that, the only even slightly awkward moment came when they went to take the baby to the connecting room to do the exam, apgars, etc. I could tell that my IM felt torn between going with her daughter and leaving me, while I was still being attended to by the doctor. I just looked at her and laughed and said, “Go, go, then come back and tell me everything.”
The baby was named Nicole Lynne (my middle name!) and weighed 8 lbs 4 oz and was 20 and a quarter inches long. Born at 4:13 am, to me it was a quick birth (only a little over eight hours, start to finish!) and to my IF, it was a very long delivery (over eight hours, start to finish!) I guess it all depends on your perspective, ha!
It was a definite perk that we had adjoining rooms and could spend the next two days in the hospital together. We spent lots of time in each other’s room, but also had our own space for privacy. I also think we were a little bit of a side-show at the hospital, with lots of nurses coming into our rooms and asking to hear our story and see the baby. I’d like to think, because it was such a positive situation, that we helped enlighten a few people that day. I got to do all the things I wanted to – give bottles, rock the baby, spend time with her whenever I wanted. Although I enjoyed that we roamed freely back and forth between our rooms, I also took the opportunity to spend time alone with the baby which was important to me. I didn’t *think* I would have any sorts of proprietary feelings towards her … and sure enough, I didn’t. I simply vacillated between wanting to spend every spare moment possible with my couple and the baby, to vicariously take part in their happiness, and also wanting to give them some breathing room to bond as a family without me hovering over their shoulder.
The two days in the hospital passed quickly and we were discharged on Thursday morning. Saying goodbye in front of the hospital was easy because we had already made plans to spend that evening together. It was saying goodbye that night after dinner, knowing they were headed to the airport, which was much more difficult. I tried explaining to my couple that I wasn’t depressed, or having baby blues, I was just sad that it had been such an amazing experience and now it was over. My IM said to me, “Oh, don’t you think that it’s over … you are stuck with us for life!” which I was thought was a sweet thing to say.
I have no doubt they appreciated everything (they certainly said thank you enough times!) and we are already discussing a visit, so I’m hopeful the good relationship continues. Worst case scenario, even if it didn’t, it was still a magnificent experience for me and I would do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, I'm seriously considering it. It’s such a win-win situation and I feel really blessed and proud of myself for being a part of something so miraculous. If nothing else, hearing her 11-yr old brother giggle (as only little boys can do) whenever she made a funny face made the entire thing worthwhile. I feel so fortunate to have been matched with a family that was wonderful to begin with, but that is even more wonderful now that they have their new baby daughter in their arms.
*************************
Seriously. That's the end. No more cliff-hangers, or one final chapter. That is the end of surrogacy journey #1. Now, if you'll excuse me, as you are reading this, I am currently in Texas with girlfriends. Scrapbooking. And chatting. And drinking amaretto. And eating chocolate. And did I mention drinking amaretto? I'll post again when I get home early next week. Remind me to tell you about pretty much the most mortifying moment of my life ... or at least the most mortifying thing that has happened to me lately.
For the rest of you:
(taken directly from my journal --- not so much “why invent the wheel”, but rather, “I’m really lazy and can just cut and paste instead of composing a whole new story" …)
We met in the hospital lobby shortly before six that evening. We had toured the hospital that very morning and the same nurse we had met earlier was there to show us to our rooms. I was so pleased to discover that they had placed us in adjoining rooms, with the baby’s “room” in between. Anxious, nervous, and eagerly anticipating what lay ahead; we all put our things away and got situated.
I changed into the always-flattering hospital gown (funny how in just a few hours my female anatomy would be on view for the entire world but at that moment I felt self-conscious about my rear end hanging out the back of that gown!) and settled down to business with the admitting nurse. She was incredibly chatty and charming, which put us immediately at ease, by slowed the process considerably. By the time the paperwork was completed and everything was arranged, almost two hours had passed. Finally, around 8pm, the pitocin drip was started. Dr. S arrived at 9pm and broke my water, expressing confidence that things would pick up quickly after that.
By 10 pm I had passed firmly into the realm of “uncomfortable” with contractions every two to three minutes, and requested the epidural. The doctor, who does his own epidurals, had me feeling pleasant and agreeable again by 10:30pm, but I think he was a little surprised to find, at that time, I was only dilated to a six. And at 12:30 am, when he came to re-administer the epidural medication …. Still dilated to a six. Since things were moving fairly slowly (shocker!) we all decided to try and rest for a little while; I actually slept for about an hour. The nurse came back in around 3 am to check me again and see if I needed another boost of pain medication. Knowing that I am a slow-crawling tortoise when it comes to labor, I was lying down thinking, “please let me be a seven, please let me be a seven” when much to my surprise she announced I was completely dilated and effaced, ready to begin pushing.
The doctor (who had gone off to sleep, waiting for me to do something!) and my IF were awoken and everyone got into place. Either the epidural had worn off just enough for me to feel a little of the contractions, or perhaps it was the pressure of the baby’s station, but I was able to tell the nurses when it was time to push each time. That made me feel like I was in charge of things … which of course I wasn’t, aren’t these babies in charge already, whether we want to admit it or not??
I began pushing at 3:30 am and discovered immediately that my delivery nurse was the slowest counter in the history of the planet. After the first series of pushes, when I had to exhale and start over and she was still only up to “six”, I told her she needed to count faster, or somebody else better do it instead. I mean, just how long can you hold your breath and push with all your might when you’ve got a stomach the size of Mt. Everest and your knees up over your head??? Not the most comfortable, or flattering, position in the world.
Anyway, I pushed for about half an hour and made some progress, but not as much as the doctor thought I should. (Again, shocker!) We realized the reason the baby wasn’t coming down like she should was that she was “sunny side up” and kept catching on my pubic bone (or, as her 11-yr old brother announced to his grandmother on the phone the next day, “The baby was caught on her pubic hair!!”) I was starting to feel a little ineffective, even though the atmosphere in the room was very calm and collected. In between contractions we would all just wait patiently for the next series of pushes, telling jokes or chatting. I felt a little embarrassed, though, that everyone was standing around waiting ON ME and I wasn’t accomplishing more. I guess that’s the way it goes sometimes. It’s awkward, though, when your doctor is yawning between contractions!
Finally, the doctor said his attempts to turn the baby face-down weren’t working and it might take up to another hour for me to push her out like she was. He wanted to use a suction extractor if that was ok with all of us. I only wish he had suggested it earlier --- two pushes after he attached that rubber cup to her head and out she popped!
It was a very exciting moment, and they laid her on my stomach just long enough to wipe her off before wrapping her in a towel and handing her to her parents. I had previously told the doctor I wanted her to go directly to her parents – they had been waiting nine long months to hold their new daughter and I didn’t want any kind of delay once she was available to them!
Of course it was a joyful birth, with everyone in the room happy and laughing and smiling. There were only a few happy tears shed; mostly we were all too busy congratulating each other. And despite my previous insistence that my IF not be allowed to cut the umbilical cord, because of my freaky weirdness and how much I hate the symbolism of it, when the time came and I saw the doctor prepare to cut it, I shouted out loud (obviously in a moment of drug-induced insanity), “Let her big brother do it … he should have an important job to do!” And such was how an eleven-year old boy wound up cutting the umbilical cord, with an awesome view of my recently-birthed-a-baby-crotch, and is most likely scarred for life and will probably never have sex in his life ever.
After that, the only even slightly awkward moment came when they went to take the baby to the connecting room to do the exam, apgars, etc. I could tell that my IM felt torn between going with her daughter and leaving me, while I was still being attended to by the doctor. I just looked at her and laughed and said, “Go, go, then come back and tell me everything.”
The baby was named Nicole Lynne (my middle name!) and weighed 8 lbs 4 oz and was 20 and a quarter inches long. Born at 4:13 am, to me it was a quick birth (only a little over eight hours, start to finish!) and to my IF, it was a very long delivery (over eight hours, start to finish!) I guess it all depends on your perspective, ha!
It was a definite perk that we had adjoining rooms and could spend the next two days in the hospital together. We spent lots of time in each other’s room, but also had our own space for privacy. I also think we were a little bit of a side-show at the hospital, with lots of nurses coming into our rooms and asking to hear our story and see the baby. I’d like to think, because it was such a positive situation, that we helped enlighten a few people that day. I got to do all the things I wanted to – give bottles, rock the baby, spend time with her whenever I wanted. Although I enjoyed that we roamed freely back and forth between our rooms, I also took the opportunity to spend time alone with the baby which was important to me. I didn’t *think* I would have any sorts of proprietary feelings towards her … and sure enough, I didn’t. I simply vacillated between wanting to spend every spare moment possible with my couple and the baby, to vicariously take part in their happiness, and also wanting to give them some breathing room to bond as a family without me hovering over their shoulder.
The two days in the hospital passed quickly and we were discharged on Thursday morning. Saying goodbye in front of the hospital was easy because we had already made plans to spend that evening together. It was saying goodbye that night after dinner, knowing they were headed to the airport, which was much more difficult. I tried explaining to my couple that I wasn’t depressed, or having baby blues, I was just sad that it had been such an amazing experience and now it was over. My IM said to me, “Oh, don’t you think that it’s over … you are stuck with us for life!” which I was thought was a sweet thing to say.
I have no doubt they appreciated everything (they certainly said thank you enough times!) and we are already discussing a visit, so I’m hopeful the good relationship continues. Worst case scenario, even if it didn’t, it was still a magnificent experience for me and I would do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, I'm seriously considering it. It’s such a win-win situation and I feel really blessed and proud of myself for being a part of something so miraculous. If nothing else, hearing her 11-yr old brother giggle (as only little boys can do) whenever she made a funny face made the entire thing worthwhile. I feel so fortunate to have been matched with a family that was wonderful to begin with, but that is even more wonderful now that they have their new baby daughter in their arms.
*************************
Seriously. That's the end. No more cliff-hangers, or one final chapter. That is the end of surrogacy journey #1. Now, if you'll excuse me, as you are reading this, I am currently in Texas with girlfriends. Scrapbooking. And chatting. And drinking amaretto. And eating chocolate. And did I mention drinking amaretto? I'll post again when I get home early next week. Remind me to tell you about pretty much the most mortifying moment of my life ... or at least the most mortifying thing that has happened to me lately.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Holy crap! This is really happening!
My mom and dad made it to Alabama just fine, and my kids were of course thrilled to see Grandma and Grandpa. Forget about their poor, fat, weebles wobble but they don’t fall down mom, who was embarking on her own grand adventure in just a few days …. For now, it was all about them and getting to see the grandparents. Probably just as good, since I was so big by that point, even my dad, with his muscular dystrophy and wheelchair, could keep up with them better than I could! Ha!
Still hopeful that I would hold out until induction day, I planned a few fun activities for when M&S arrived with their son in tow. It was kind of an odd feeling --- yes, we were all thrilled to see one another again, and so excited for what was in store. But at the same time, I felt a little tourist-guide-hostess-y, and wanted them to enjoy their time in Alabama … not just sit around and watch me gestate those few final days.
My IP’s first night in town, my parents stayed home with my kids while the grown ups went out to dinner at Longhorn and chatted. Thanks to the distance between us, it had been since our match meeting, a year and a half ago, that they and Blaine had even seen one another. So despite *my* constant communication with my IM, it was nice to sit and catch up.
After dinner the three of them came back to our house for dessert. That night, in the living room, the baby started kicking. I didn’t want to move for fear it would stop, so I just said, “Come quick, feel my stomach!” I thought my IF was going to break his leg jumping over the coffee table to get to me. It was actually really sweet (well, considering he didn’t break a limb, that is.) I had a few contractions that night …. Four, to be exact. Of course, everyone held their breath that “maybe this is it!” but once I said something, they stopped, and I felt sort of silly and over-reactive-y.
The next day we got up and had brunch at the Officers Club, then our families went to a local strawberry festival. That night they came back over to our house and we grilled out for dinner. It was all fun and exciting, and my kids loved them because they brought toys (hey when you’re under the age of five, that really is your main concern in life) but of course everyone’s minds were on the big event, still scheduled for the 7th.
It was also really nice during this time for my parents to have the chance to spend some time with my couple and their son. My mom had supported the surrogacy from day one, in a “I’m not sure I understand this, but if that’s what you want to do, then it’s fine with me” sort of way. My dad, bless his heart, was just along for the ride and I suspect still thought I had had sex with my IF in order to get pregnant. Regardless, I felt it was good for them to see in person the positive experience this had been, and see my IP’s excitement, up close and personal.
The next morning, the 6th, we took a tour of the hospital labor and delivery floor. The nurses and staff had been prepped for our “special’ situation, and as far as we were concerned, it looked like things would work smoothly. Sometimes, thankfully not often but sometimes, surrogate situations are not handled well by hospitals. Whether it’s due to ignorance, or prejudice, I’m not sure. Thankfully, the staff at this hospital appeared to understand this was a positive, happy, we-are-all-here-because-we-want-to-be scenario, and they seemed enthusiastic, and eager *for* us, which was nice.
Then we headed over to the doctor’s office for one final checkup. He hadn’t met my couple yet, and I made introductions all around. Dr. S had been fabulous throughout the entire pregnancy --- well, except for that one time at the beginning of the pregnancy, when he forgot I was a surrogate, and cluck-clucked his dismay when he asked if I planned to breast-feed the baby and I said no …. Then, after I reminded him I was a surrogate, he promptly turned three shades of red for forgetting, apologized all over himself, and I pretty much adored him from that point on. Not only that, but his wife had been the recipient of a kidney transplant a few years prior, and he seemed to have great appreciation for the concept of surrogacy …. For the concept of helping someone in this way. While I was happy for him that his wife was doing so well, I can also admit, selfishly, that I was grateful that God put a doctor with that personal experience in my path as well, since I was able to benefit from his enlightened viewpoint.
He asked my couple to leave the room so he could do a quick exam, and discovered I was dilated to a four, almost five. He brought my couple back in the room, and asked the three of us, “Tonight? Or tomorrow morning?” He repeated, again, that since this was my third delivery he thought it would go quickly, and said, “If you guys want to go ahead, your baby could be born this very evening. Or we can wait until tomorrow; it’s up to you.” I looked at my couple, and they looked at me, and we decided …. Why not? Everyone and everything is in place, so let’s just go!
It was definitely one of those “Oh my goodness, this is really happening!” kind of moments. I felt like I was sitting in the roller coaster, almost to the top of the first, big hill. And at that point, figured I should just throw my arms up in the air and yell, “Wheeee!”
Still hopeful that I would hold out until induction day, I planned a few fun activities for when M&S arrived with their son in tow. It was kind of an odd feeling --- yes, we were all thrilled to see one another again, and so excited for what was in store. But at the same time, I felt a little tourist-guide-hostess-y, and wanted them to enjoy their time in Alabama … not just sit around and watch me gestate those few final days.
My IP’s first night in town, my parents stayed home with my kids while the grown ups went out to dinner at Longhorn and chatted. Thanks to the distance between us, it had been since our match meeting, a year and a half ago, that they and Blaine had even seen one another. So despite *my* constant communication with my IM, it was nice to sit and catch up.
After dinner the three of them came back to our house for dessert. That night, in the living room, the baby started kicking. I didn’t want to move for fear it would stop, so I just said, “Come quick, feel my stomach!” I thought my IF was going to break his leg jumping over the coffee table to get to me. It was actually really sweet (well, considering he didn’t break a limb, that is.) I had a few contractions that night …. Four, to be exact. Of course, everyone held their breath that “maybe this is it!” but once I said something, they stopped, and I felt sort of silly and over-reactive-y.
The next day we got up and had brunch at the Officers Club, then our families went to a local strawberry festival. That night they came back over to our house and we grilled out for dinner. It was all fun and exciting, and my kids loved them because they brought toys (hey when you’re under the age of five, that really is your main concern in life) but of course everyone’s minds were on the big event, still scheduled for the 7th.
It was also really nice during this time for my parents to have the chance to spend some time with my couple and their son. My mom had supported the surrogacy from day one, in a “I’m not sure I understand this, but if that’s what you want to do, then it’s fine with me” sort of way. My dad, bless his heart, was just along for the ride and I suspect still thought I had had sex with my IF in order to get pregnant. Regardless, I felt it was good for them to see in person the positive experience this had been, and see my IP’s excitement, up close and personal.
The next morning, the 6th, we took a tour of the hospital labor and delivery floor. The nurses and staff had been prepped for our “special’ situation, and as far as we were concerned, it looked like things would work smoothly. Sometimes, thankfully not often but sometimes, surrogate situations are not handled well by hospitals. Whether it’s due to ignorance, or prejudice, I’m not sure. Thankfully, the staff at this hospital appeared to understand this was a positive, happy, we-are-all-here-because-we-want-to-be scenario, and they seemed enthusiastic, and eager *for* us, which was nice.
Then we headed over to the doctor’s office for one final checkup. He hadn’t met my couple yet, and I made introductions all around. Dr. S had been fabulous throughout the entire pregnancy --- well, except for that one time at the beginning of the pregnancy, when he forgot I was a surrogate, and cluck-clucked his dismay when he asked if I planned to breast-feed the baby and I said no …. Then, after I reminded him I was a surrogate, he promptly turned three shades of red for forgetting, apologized all over himself, and I pretty much adored him from that point on. Not only that, but his wife had been the recipient of a kidney transplant a few years prior, and he seemed to have great appreciation for the concept of surrogacy …. For the concept of helping someone in this way. While I was happy for him that his wife was doing so well, I can also admit, selfishly, that I was grateful that God put a doctor with that personal experience in my path as well, since I was able to benefit from his enlightened viewpoint.
He asked my couple to leave the room so he could do a quick exam, and discovered I was dilated to a four, almost five. He brought my couple back in the room, and asked the three of us, “Tonight? Or tomorrow morning?” He repeated, again, that since this was my third delivery he thought it would go quickly, and said, “If you guys want to go ahead, your baby could be born this very evening. Or we can wait until tomorrow; it’s up to you.” I looked at my couple, and they looked at me, and we decided …. Why not? Everyone and everything is in place, so let’s just go!
It was definitely one of those “Oh my goodness, this is really happening!” kind of moments. I felt like I was sitting in the roller coaster, almost to the top of the first, big hill. And at that point, figured I should just throw my arms up in the air and yell, “Wheeee!”
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
T-Minus Seven Days until Project “Sleep Through The Night for ME, but NOT For My IP’s Because They Will Be Taking Care Of This Baby” Begins
A week before my induction was scheduled, I had my 39-week OB checkup. My doctor had not done any physical exams prior to this because to quote him, “No sense stirring up the pot”. Um, yeah, thanks. I agree.
At that 39 week appointment, he determined that the baby was head-down, and I was dilated to a three; both good things. I had not been having any contractions, which was also good as far as I was concerned. The doctor seemed to think things would go smoothly and fairly quickly since this would be my third delivery. I hesitated to tell him that I am the Tortoise-Woman of Labor, and that it would most likely take hours. Who knows? Maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic about my dismal track record when it came to "birthing them babies" .... maybe he would be right and I’d be fast about it, for once. Pushing just once or twice, like those women you hear about, instead of pushing for hours and hours and hours until finally he'll be forced to grab the salad tongs .... maybe this time *I* would be quick about it!! (aka “Squeak, squeak, squeak .. monkeys flying out of my butt”)
I was talking to my IM daily at this point, and they were leaving for their mini-pre-delivery-how-can-we-even-concentrate-we’re-so-excited-vacation in Atlanta the next day. My IM said something to me on the phone that not only was very thought-provoking, but which I directly credit (blame?) for helping to make me the paranoid travel freak that I am today. Normally, she explained, if she and her husband were flying somewhere without their son, they flew separately (hmmm, sound familiar???) Only when all three of them were flying, their whole family, did they fly together. But now, she said, what should they do? Because technically, their WHOLE family wasn’t together. Family member #4 was still residing in utero, in Alabama, and she wasn’t sure if she and her husband should split up, in case heaven forbid, one of the planes crashed. But if they split up, how would she decide who takes their 11-yr old? What if she made the decision to put her husband and son on another plane together and it goes down…. How would she live with that the rest of her life??? But what if they were all together and *that* plane went down, and the daughter they worked so hard to have would never know any of them?
Personally, I thought her angst over the dilemma was proof that she had already partly entered the sleep deprived and not-a-whole-lot-of-oxygen-to-your-brain world of Newborn Parenting.
She was anxious, she was worried, she was nervous, she was excited. She was just like all moms-to-be … and I knew she would be great.
At that 39 week appointment, he determined that the baby was head-down, and I was dilated to a three; both good things. I had not been having any contractions, which was also good as far as I was concerned. The doctor seemed to think things would go smoothly and fairly quickly since this would be my third delivery. I hesitated to tell him that I am the Tortoise-Woman of Labor, and that it would most likely take hours. Who knows? Maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic about my dismal track record when it came to "birthing them babies" .... maybe he would be right and I’d be fast about it, for once. Pushing just once or twice, like those women you hear about, instead of pushing for hours and hours and hours until finally he'll be forced to grab the salad tongs .... maybe this time *I* would be quick about it!! (aka “Squeak, squeak, squeak .. monkeys flying out of my butt”)
I was talking to my IM daily at this point, and they were leaving for their mini-pre-delivery-how-can-we-even-concentrate-we’re-so-excited-vacation in Atlanta the next day. My IM said something to me on the phone that not only was very thought-provoking, but which I directly credit (blame?) for helping to make me the paranoid travel freak that I am today. Normally, she explained, if she and her husband were flying somewhere without their son, they flew separately (hmmm, sound familiar???) Only when all three of them were flying, their whole family, did they fly together. But now, she said, what should they do? Because technically, their WHOLE family wasn’t together. Family member #4 was still residing in utero, in Alabama, and she wasn’t sure if she and her husband should split up, in case heaven forbid, one of the planes crashed. But if they split up, how would she decide who takes their 11-yr old? What if she made the decision to put her husband and son on another plane together and it goes down…. How would she live with that the rest of her life??? But what if they were all together and *that* plane went down, and the daughter they worked so hard to have would never know any of them?
Personally, I thought her angst over the dilemma was proof that she had already partly entered the sleep deprived and not-a-whole-lot-of-oxygen-to-your-brain world of Newborn Parenting.
She was anxious, she was worried, she was nervous, she was excited. She was just like all moms-to-be … and I knew she would be great.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Oh, wow. I completely forgot. I’m eight months pregnant.
Because I got so busy on this blog complaining about cell phones, and having to keep my kids busy this summer, and hygienic panty liners hanging out of my swimsuit, I completely forgot to finish my surrogacy story. Hmmm, when we left off, I was about eight months pregnant, and plans for delivery were in full swing.
As the weeks ticked by, and I got bigger and bigger (because that is one part of pregnancy I do really well; the getting BIGGER part!), we got closer and closer to our due date. I had sat down with my OB at the 35 week mark and discussed induction dates. I would have preferred not to be induced, but my parents needed to make arrangements to fly to Alabama to watch my kids, and the IP’s needed to make arrangements to fly to Alabama for the birth. Plus, they wanted to pull their son out of school so he could be a part of it. So, you could see how for convenience sake, it would be better for everyone if we simply scheduled a delivery date, and then crossed our fingers (or maybe my legs!) that the baby didn’t decide to come early.
My due date had wobbled a little based on the size of the baby at the ultrasound, but ultimately the doctor decided on May 5th. Or May 8th. Or maybe May 7th. I told you, it got changed a few times, by only a day or two each time, and I forget what we eventually settled on. Although I had no history of going into labor anytime before my due date … in fact, had no history of going into labor anytime before ten days AFTER my due date, my IP’s still wanted to be sure they were there, and would take no chances with waiting until the last minute to arrive. They decided to fly into Atlanta on May 1st, just to be on the safe side. They planned to spend a few days sightseeing in Atlanta, close enough that they could be to my house in only a few hours if need be. Otherwise, they would join us on the 4th in Alabama, and we’d spend time together until the induction day, which was set for May 7th.
I still felt great and was having no complications, but I’ll admit I was eager to get the show on the road. I was eager for them to meet their daughter, and I was eager to sleep on my stomach again, and I was especially eager to sleep through the night without getting up to go potty seventeen times (it’s the little things, you know?)
As the weeks ticked by, and I got bigger and bigger (because that is one part of pregnancy I do really well; the getting BIGGER part!), we got closer and closer to our due date. I had sat down with my OB at the 35 week mark and discussed induction dates. I would have preferred not to be induced, but my parents needed to make arrangements to fly to Alabama to watch my kids, and the IP’s needed to make arrangements to fly to Alabama for the birth. Plus, they wanted to pull their son out of school so he could be a part of it. So, you could see how for convenience sake, it would be better for everyone if we simply scheduled a delivery date, and then crossed our fingers (or maybe my legs!) that the baby didn’t decide to come early.
My due date had wobbled a little based on the size of the baby at the ultrasound, but ultimately the doctor decided on May 5th. Or May 8th. Or maybe May 7th. I told you, it got changed a few times, by only a day or two each time, and I forget what we eventually settled on. Although I had no history of going into labor anytime before my due date … in fact, had no history of going into labor anytime before ten days AFTER my due date, my IP’s still wanted to be sure they were there, and would take no chances with waiting until the last minute to arrive. They decided to fly into Atlanta on May 1st, just to be on the safe side. They planned to spend a few days sightseeing in Atlanta, close enough that they could be to my house in only a few hours if need be. Otherwise, they would join us on the 4th in Alabama, and we’d spend time together until the induction day, which was set for May 7th.
I still felt great and was having no complications, but I’ll admit I was eager to get the show on the road. I was eager for them to meet their daughter, and I was eager to sleep on my stomach again, and I was especially eager to sleep through the night without getting up to go potty seventeen times (it’s the little things, you know?)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
More Q & A
Lizinsumner asks: My only question - is there an "average total cost" that the IPs spend on the "average" surrogacy (knowing full well that there's no such thing as an "average" surrogacy, I'm sure)....I know people who have spent in excess of $30,000 for a single adoption; wondering if surrogacy costs more.....
Liz, I can honestly say that I have no idea what the average cost would be, although I imagine much higher than $30,000. However, I doubt there *is* an average cost, since so many variables take place. For example, how many IVF attempts does it take to get pregnant? When Blaine and I were doing IVF for ourselves many years ago, each attempt was approximately $12,000. No money-back-guarantee if it doesn’t work ….. Do the IP’s have medical insurance that will pay for part of the process, or is it all out-of-pocket, and how many are they willing to try? How far apart are the couple and the surrogate, and therefore how much is involved regarding travel expenses? I know couples and surrogates who live in the same town, therefore no travel is involved. I, however, had to fly numerous times for every couple, stay in hotels, rent cars, etc. Did the couple and the surrogate already know one another, or somehow find each other, or are they paying an agency for matching services? What if the surrogate is put on bedrest and the couple has to reimburse her for lost wages for months and months? Is it a “compassionate” surrogacy, meaning the surrogate is doing this for no compensation? Most surrogacies are not.
I’m sure there is a wide range of “average”, and like anything in the world of fertility treatment, it’s unfortunately not fiscally available to everyone who would benefit.
Anonymous asks: This is a very nosy question and I'll totally understand if you never answer it (I probably wouldn't) but, do surrogates still receive some sort of personal compensation for carrying a baby to term- aside from the covering of medical costs? You always hear stories about women being paid tens of thousands of dollars for doing this and I wondered if that's actually true or if it's just a tall tale. (Of course I don't mean this to be offensive- I don't mean to say women would be in this as a business for the money. I'm just genuinely curious.)
Also, I know your husband is military- I recently read an article claiming that infertile couples specifically seek out military wives now to become their potential surrogate because the military insurance covers 100% of the cost. Is this true?
Nosy, nosy, nosy aren't I?
Anonymous, I’ve discussed the compensation issue here. Hopefully that will answer that part of your question. As far as the recent Newsweek article, highlighting the large number of military wives who choose to be surrogates, I think many people have been mis-lead by the article.
“Military insurance covers 100% of the cost” ---- First of all, let me remind people that military insurance is not “free”. Blaine has premiums taken out of his paycheck just like anyone else in the working world does. So to imply that our healthcare is “free”, and that our medical/pregnancy treatment is “free”, is a misconception.
Also, to clarify, military insurance covers NONE of the cost for the fertility treatments to get the surrogate pregnant. Military insurance provides very little in the form of fertility treatment to being with, and they pay for none of it regarding IVF attempts for a surrogate pregnancy. All of it … the cost of medications, ultrasounds, blood work, the IVF itself, and then the monitoring that goes on immediately afterwards, is non-covered and must be paid by the Intended Parents.
Yes, once an active-duty military person, or military dependent, is pregnant, our insurance provides medical care for the pregnancy and delivery. However, so do most private health care companies, something that most people don’t seem to realize. Therefore, what makes the military insurance any different than Blue Cross/Blue Shield, or Aetna? Recently, both Tricare (the military insurance) and various private health care companies have been grumbling about surrogate pregnancies, and tentative steps are being made to stop the benefits, which I think is a real shame. That will do nothing more than require Intended Parents to take out private health care policies for their surrogate and pay the premiums out of their own pocket... like this isn't expensive enough already?
Personally, I think the reason military wives are so often willing to serve as surrogates has less to do with our insurance (many women in this country have medical insurance, but you don't see the vast majority of them lining up to be surrogates, either) and more because we have a tendency to be married to service-minded people, and see this as something we can do to help others …. Many in the military, and military periphery, simply have that mind-set of wanting to help. Also, (ok, this is where my opinion comes in, and nothing more) military wives are often kept from successful careers because we move every few years with our husbands to new military bases. It’s hard to climb the corporate ladder, or build up any kind of seniority, when you’re starting a new job every two years. This is just my personal opinion, but being a surrogate is something *I* can do, no matter where we are living (to a point) and it allows me to feel like I’m making a contribution.
Ryley asks: okay.. i have questions for you if you even want to do a question and answer day..
after having the babies.. when you went home from the hospital and laid on the couch or in your bed.. we're you ever sad for a second?
I know we've talked about the shrivled raisin heart thing.. :)
but did you ever miss having them in your tummy?
and...
are any or all of your families open with their children? Like do they still send you pictures and letters and stuff?
and..
do you talk to kids before you start another pregnancy? are they aware when you are doing it? and do they ever ask you to have another baby for your family? :)
okay.. i know weird questions.. but the internet is nosey! :)
Ryley, not too nosy, no. :)
First of all, was I ever sad after returning home from the hospital? Yes, but probably not for the reason people might expect. I wasn’t sad like a woman who had just lost a child, and I never suffered from any baby-blues. I was simply sad because it was over. Yes, I missed being pregnant, and yes, I missed the excitement and anticipation of knowing what was happening. But no, I never felt depressed about it. I read a quote somewhere: “Don’t be sad because it’s over …. Be happy that it happened.” I try very hard to apply that thought process to my surrogate pregnancies, and it always works!
All three of the families I’ve done this for are wonderful, and extremely generous with sending photos and updates of the kids. I’ve gone for visits, and we send birthday gifts, and talk on the phone, and e-mail, etc. In fact, the third couple I carried for just sent pictures of Nicolas’ on his second birthday --- wow, does time fly! I don’t live close enough to see any of them often, so I’m grateful we keep in touch in other ways. Personally, I would never agree to be a surrogate for a couple who wanted to keep it a secret, and I don’t think many do.
I made scrapbooks for all three families, and I loved the last time I went to visit the twins, we sat in the floor and the boys and I looked at the book together, and they could make the connection between the photos, and the real-live-me that was sitting there. How special is that? Do I think I'll still be in contact with these families in ten years? Twenty years? Invited to the childrens' weddings to stand in the back and sniffle and weep my way through the ceremony? Um, I don't know. While that would be nice, and I'm certainly open to it, it's not necessary. I've been able to stay relatively close for a few years with each of them, and as people's lives get busier, mine included, I understand this sort of contact will enevitably become less. But for now, it's perfect.
The first three times that I did this I didn’t tell my children because they were so young it wasn’t really necessary. This most recent time, however, they were aware I was going to be gone overnight, and noticed the needles and Sharps container in my bathroom, so obviously they knew *something* was going on. Although they are comfortable with the process, I wish I could have kept it from them because the two miscarriages were hard for them to understand. First there was a baby, then there wasn’t …. Why? And yes, Kendrie asks on pretty much a daily basis when am I going to have another baby for our family? Because she doesn’t want to be the youngest so she needs a little brother or sister. I hate to tell her, but the Vasectomy Ship sailed about eight years ago.
Lisa in Texas asks: I have a question that probably sounds like a made-for-TV movie, but what would happen if the IP's divorce or God-forbid die during the pregnancy? Also, what if you found out the baby had something wrong, like Tay-Sachs, spinabifida, or some other life-threatening disorder, who makes the decision about continuing the pregnancy? What if your life were in danger if a pregnancy continued?
Lisa, as far as the baby having a medical issue, those are all situations that need to be discussed thoroughly before any surrogate and couple agree to work together, and then should be addressed clearly in the legal contract. Some surrogates refuse to consider a termination for any reason at all …. So it’s important they be matched with a couple who feels the same way. If not a termination, what about reducing a triplet or quadruplet pregnancy (not that those happen often, thank goodness) down to twins? Some couples would want to, for the health of the babies, and the health of the surrogate. Other couples would not. Again, that’s why it matters so, so much that everyone be on the same page, and that those decisions be made in agreement beforehand and stated in the contract.
Ultimately, no one can FORCE a surrogate to have a reduction or termination, nor can they FORBID her from having one. But my personal opinion is that the decision should be carefully weighed by all involved; that the couple and the surrogate and the surrogates’ husband be in complete agreement …. And that the doctor’s recommendation should weigh most heavily of all.
It also states clearly in the contract what provisions have been made, regarding legal guardianship of the baby, in the event both Intended Parents were to die during the pregnancy.
The divorce situation is a bit stickier, although it still states clearly in the contract that the babies are the legal, financial, and physical responsibility of the Intended Parents, no matter what. I know one surrogate whose Intended Parents divorced during her pregnancy …. Definitely unfortunate, although they were both present at the delivery and must have, I assumed, worked out some kind of custody agreement in their divorce proceedings. Another situation occurred when a couple used donor egg and the father’s sperm, and the surrogate got pregnant with twins. During the pregnancy the couple divorced. The dad said he didn’t want the babies, and the Intended Mom said since they weren’t her biological children, she didn’t want them either. And there sat the pregnant surrogate. Although legally still the responsibility of the Intended Parents, would you really want to place babies with people who don’t want them?? In that situation, the agency they were using helped the surrogate choose adoptive parents for the babies. A happy ending, yes, but stressful for everyone involved. And what if that surrogate had been matched independently with her couple and not had the legal and emotional support of her agency? Thankfully, these types of situations are few and far between --- but since they *can* happen, it’s important that everything be spelled out crystal clear in the contract beforehand.
So, anything else anyone wants to ask? Surrogacy related, or what I had for dinner last night, or most embarrassing moment? Anything?
Liz, I can honestly say that I have no idea what the average cost would be, although I imagine much higher than $30,000. However, I doubt there *is* an average cost, since so many variables take place. For example, how many IVF attempts does it take to get pregnant? When Blaine and I were doing IVF for ourselves many years ago, each attempt was approximately $12,000. No money-back-guarantee if it doesn’t work ….. Do the IP’s have medical insurance that will pay for part of the process, or is it all out-of-pocket, and how many are they willing to try? How far apart are the couple and the surrogate, and therefore how much is involved regarding travel expenses? I know couples and surrogates who live in the same town, therefore no travel is involved. I, however, had to fly numerous times for every couple, stay in hotels, rent cars, etc. Did the couple and the surrogate already know one another, or somehow find each other, or are they paying an agency for matching services? What if the surrogate is put on bedrest and the couple has to reimburse her for lost wages for months and months? Is it a “compassionate” surrogacy, meaning the surrogate is doing this for no compensation? Most surrogacies are not.
I’m sure there is a wide range of “average”, and like anything in the world of fertility treatment, it’s unfortunately not fiscally available to everyone who would benefit.
Anonymous asks: This is a very nosy question and I'll totally understand if you never answer it (I probably wouldn't) but, do surrogates still receive some sort of personal compensation for carrying a baby to term- aside from the covering of medical costs? You always hear stories about women being paid tens of thousands of dollars for doing this and I wondered if that's actually true or if it's just a tall tale. (Of course I don't mean this to be offensive- I don't mean to say women would be in this as a business for the money. I'm just genuinely curious.)
Also, I know your husband is military- I recently read an article claiming that infertile couples specifically seek out military wives now to become their potential surrogate because the military insurance covers 100% of the cost. Is this true?
Nosy, nosy, nosy aren't I?
Anonymous, I’ve discussed the compensation issue here. Hopefully that will answer that part of your question. As far as the recent Newsweek article, highlighting the large number of military wives who choose to be surrogates, I think many people have been mis-lead by the article.
“Military insurance covers 100% of the cost” ---- First of all, let me remind people that military insurance is not “free”. Blaine has premiums taken out of his paycheck just like anyone else in the working world does. So to imply that our healthcare is “free”, and that our medical/pregnancy treatment is “free”, is a misconception.
Also, to clarify, military insurance covers NONE of the cost for the fertility treatments to get the surrogate pregnant. Military insurance provides very little in the form of fertility treatment to being with, and they pay for none of it regarding IVF attempts for a surrogate pregnancy. All of it … the cost of medications, ultrasounds, blood work, the IVF itself, and then the monitoring that goes on immediately afterwards, is non-covered and must be paid by the Intended Parents.
Yes, once an active-duty military person, or military dependent, is pregnant, our insurance provides medical care for the pregnancy and delivery. However, so do most private health care companies, something that most people don’t seem to realize. Therefore, what makes the military insurance any different than Blue Cross/Blue Shield, or Aetna? Recently, both Tricare (the military insurance) and various private health care companies have been grumbling about surrogate pregnancies, and tentative steps are being made to stop the benefits, which I think is a real shame. That will do nothing more than require Intended Parents to take out private health care policies for their surrogate and pay the premiums out of their own pocket... like this isn't expensive enough already?
Personally, I think the reason military wives are so often willing to serve as surrogates has less to do with our insurance (many women in this country have medical insurance, but you don't see the vast majority of them lining up to be surrogates, either) and more because we have a tendency to be married to service-minded people, and see this as something we can do to help others …. Many in the military, and military periphery, simply have that mind-set of wanting to help. Also, (ok, this is where my opinion comes in, and nothing more) military wives are often kept from successful careers because we move every few years with our husbands to new military bases. It’s hard to climb the corporate ladder, or build up any kind of seniority, when you’re starting a new job every two years. This is just my personal opinion, but being a surrogate is something *I* can do, no matter where we are living (to a point) and it allows me to feel like I’m making a contribution.
Ryley asks: okay.. i have questions for you if you even want to do a question and answer day..
after having the babies.. when you went home from the hospital and laid on the couch or in your bed.. we're you ever sad for a second?
I know we've talked about the shrivled raisin heart thing.. :)
but did you ever miss having them in your tummy?
and...
are any or all of your families open with their children? Like do they still send you pictures and letters and stuff?
and..
do you talk to kids before you start another pregnancy? are they aware when you are doing it? and do they ever ask you to have another baby for your family? :)
okay.. i know weird questions.. but the internet is nosey! :)
Ryley, not too nosy, no. :)
First of all, was I ever sad after returning home from the hospital? Yes, but probably not for the reason people might expect. I wasn’t sad like a woman who had just lost a child, and I never suffered from any baby-blues. I was simply sad because it was over. Yes, I missed being pregnant, and yes, I missed the excitement and anticipation of knowing what was happening. But no, I never felt depressed about it. I read a quote somewhere: “Don’t be sad because it’s over …. Be happy that it happened.” I try very hard to apply that thought process to my surrogate pregnancies, and it always works!
All three of the families I’ve done this for are wonderful, and extremely generous with sending photos and updates of the kids. I’ve gone for visits, and we send birthday gifts, and talk on the phone, and e-mail, etc. In fact, the third couple I carried for just sent pictures of Nicolas’ on his second birthday --- wow, does time fly! I don’t live close enough to see any of them often, so I’m grateful we keep in touch in other ways. Personally, I would never agree to be a surrogate for a couple who wanted to keep it a secret, and I don’t think many do.
I made scrapbooks for all three families, and I loved the last time I went to visit the twins, we sat in the floor and the boys and I looked at the book together, and they could make the connection between the photos, and the real-live-me that was sitting there. How special is that? Do I think I'll still be in contact with these families in ten years? Twenty years? Invited to the childrens' weddings to stand in the back and sniffle and weep my way through the ceremony? Um, I don't know. While that would be nice, and I'm certainly open to it, it's not necessary. I've been able to stay relatively close for a few years with each of them, and as people's lives get busier, mine included, I understand this sort of contact will enevitably become less. But for now, it's perfect.
The first three times that I did this I didn’t tell my children because they were so young it wasn’t really necessary. This most recent time, however, they were aware I was going to be gone overnight, and noticed the needles and Sharps container in my bathroom, so obviously they knew *something* was going on. Although they are comfortable with the process, I wish I could have kept it from them because the two miscarriages were hard for them to understand. First there was a baby, then there wasn’t …. Why? And yes, Kendrie asks on pretty much a daily basis when am I going to have another baby for our family? Because she doesn’t want to be the youngest so she needs a little brother or sister. I hate to tell her, but the Vasectomy Ship sailed about eight years ago.
Lisa in Texas asks: I have a question that probably sounds like a made-for-TV movie, but what would happen if the IP's divorce or God-forbid die during the pregnancy? Also, what if you found out the baby had something wrong, like Tay-Sachs, spinabifida, or some other life-threatening disorder, who makes the decision about continuing the pregnancy? What if your life were in danger if a pregnancy continued?
Lisa, as far as the baby having a medical issue, those are all situations that need to be discussed thoroughly before any surrogate and couple agree to work together, and then should be addressed clearly in the legal contract. Some surrogates refuse to consider a termination for any reason at all …. So it’s important they be matched with a couple who feels the same way. If not a termination, what about reducing a triplet or quadruplet pregnancy (not that those happen often, thank goodness) down to twins? Some couples would want to, for the health of the babies, and the health of the surrogate. Other couples would not. Again, that’s why it matters so, so much that everyone be on the same page, and that those decisions be made in agreement beforehand and stated in the contract.
Ultimately, no one can FORCE a surrogate to have a reduction or termination, nor can they FORBID her from having one. But my personal opinion is that the decision should be carefully weighed by all involved; that the couple and the surrogate and the surrogates’ husband be in complete agreement …. And that the doctor’s recommendation should weigh most heavily of all.
It also states clearly in the contract what provisions have been made, regarding legal guardianship of the baby, in the event both Intended Parents were to die during the pregnancy.
The divorce situation is a bit stickier, although it still states clearly in the contract that the babies are the legal, financial, and physical responsibility of the Intended Parents, no matter what. I know one surrogate whose Intended Parents divorced during her pregnancy …. Definitely unfortunate, although they were both present at the delivery and must have, I assumed, worked out some kind of custody agreement in their divorce proceedings. Another situation occurred when a couple used donor egg and the father’s sperm, and the surrogate got pregnant with twins. During the pregnancy the couple divorced. The dad said he didn’t want the babies, and the Intended Mom said since they weren’t her biological children, she didn’t want them either. And there sat the pregnant surrogate. Although legally still the responsibility of the Intended Parents, would you really want to place babies with people who don’t want them?? In that situation, the agency they were using helped the surrogate choose adoptive parents for the babies. A happy ending, yes, but stressful for everyone involved. And what if that surrogate had been matched independently with her couple and not had the legal and emotional support of her agency? Thankfully, these types of situations are few and far between --- but since they *can* happen, it’s important that everything be spelled out crystal clear in the contract beforehand.
So, anything else anyone wants to ask? Surrogacy related, or what I had for dinner last night, or most embarrassing moment? Anything?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The Birth Plan
Having determined that my ideal couple was “anyone who wouldn’t stand between me and the anesthesiologist”, I thought it was nice that my IM wound up being a nurse herself. (Ironically, the very first couple that the counselor tried to match me with …. The couple that turned me down …. He WAS an anesthesiologist. That’s ok, that match still wouldn’t have worked out, no matter how many wonderful drugs he could have smuggled me during delivery. **PS KIDDING!) In addition to working in the medical field herself, my IM had almost died when she lost their second child. So her appreciation for modern medicine was both professional AND personal. Obviously, a traditional, hospital-birth setting, with plenty of medical staff hovering nearby, was something they were all in favor of, so we were good to go.
At this point, with about two months to go until delivery, it was time for my counselor and me to discuss my Birth Plan. A Birth Plan is a written (or just thought-out, I suppose) idea of how you would ideally like the birth to go. It’s something that is recommended for anyone giving birth, but the agency especially recommends them for surrogate deliveries, since sometimes in the chaos that is “delivery”, you can lose focus on what is (or WAS) important to you. The birth plan is simply a way to make sure everyone – doctor, nurses, surrogate, surrogate’s husband, and the Intended Parents, are all on the same page, and have the same goals and expectations.
When my counselor called me to discuss it, she asked, “So, basically, what is your birth plan?” And I replied, “You know my birth plan. To have as many drugs as I need to be comfortable. And at the end, it would be nice if perhaps, maybe, hopefully, a real live baby could come out of my body.”
Somehow, I think she thought my expectations were a little low.
There were actually lots of things for me to consider, and she offered up other suggestions that had been important to other surrogates, for me to think about.
Was I comfortable having my couple in the room with me while I was in labor? While I was actually pushing? What if the hospital put a limit on the number of people who could be in the room? Who would I want then? Assuming I was comfortable having the couple in the room (I was) then where did I want them to stand? At the head of the bead? At the foot of the bed, so they could see their daughter being born? And see lots of other naughty bits? Was I ok with that? (I was not, sorry to be a prude, please stand at the head of the bed.)
What did I want to happen in the moments immediately after the baby was born? Did I want the doctor to place the baby on my stomach, as is traditionally done after delivery? Some surrogates feel very strongly that they be allowed to hold the baby first, and then they can physically “present” the newborn to his/her parents. Or they want the surrogate’s husband to be allowed that privilege, as a way of respecting his support during the entire process. In fact, I know one surrogate who felt strongly that she wanted to “present” the babies (she was having twins) to their parents, and explained to her IP’s how important that was to her. She wound up having an emergency c-section and was put under general anesthesia for the surgery. Her couple not only had the stress of making sure their babies were ok, but also making sure this surrogate, who they had grown to care about like a member of their own family, was alright as well. But this couple went way beyond that. They waited, several hours, to hold their own children, until the surrogate had come out of anesthesia, and could realize her dream of physically handing the babies to their parents. That is how much they respected the wishes of their surrogate ---- how freaking awesome is that?!?
Anyway, for ourselves, we were hoping our delivery would be a little less dramatic, but I did have a preference --- I wanted the baby to be immediately handed to her mother or father. I didn’t want her coming to me first. I felt as though my privilege had been to “hold” her for the past nine months …. Her parents should be the first ones to get that privilege once she was born.
More things to consider ---
Often, if a hospital has an available extra room, the family will be given their own room with the baby. In the event there were no extra rooms, however, after the baby is born and cleaned up, did I want the couple to have the opportunity to room in with me? Did I want the baby to stay in the nursery? Did I want private time with the baby, to feed her or change her? Some surrogates, either at the request, or with the blessing of, the Intended Parents, choose to nurse the baby in the hospital, or perhaps pump their breastmilk for the parents to bottle feed to the baby. Was I interested in either of those things? Was my couple?
Hospitals usually only give two wristbands, for people to have the right to check the baby out of the nursery. Obviously, they normally go to the mother and father … did I want one of the wristbands for myself? If not, did I want my couple to bring the baby to my room for visits?
And of course, the bottom line of any Birth Plan: realize that the unexpected can always happen, and be flexible if your birth plan goes to pot. Yes, it’s important to have a general idea of what you hope will happen, but it’s equally important to realize things don’t always go as planned. In my mind, the fewer expectations I had, the less likely I would be disappointed if something didn’t go the way I planned.
Finally, bottom line, I did wind up giving my counselor a list of a few specific requests:
I wanted to be able to take as many photos and video during that time as the hospital policy would allow. Turns out my couple also hoped I would feel comfortable if *they* took lots of photos, so we were all happy.
I asked that my children be allowed to visit the baby in the hospital. My counselor said not only was this allowed, but recommended. They were still young at the time; 2, 4, and 5, and I needed for them to see what this was all about. Thankfully, my couple said they couldn’t wait to meet my kids and that they were welcome at any time.
And then lastly, this is where the weirdness that is me became apparent. I have a *THING* … and I know it’s silly, and doesn’t make any rational sense, and in the big picture what does it matter anyway …. But I have this *THING* about the “ceremony” of allowing the father to cut the umbilical cord. Basically, that I think it is the dumbest, most superfluous, most inane example of stupid-ness on the planet. It’s this totally lame task that someone thought up … to what? Make the fathers feel important? Like they’ve contributed in some way? I’m sorry, but it’s no great skill to work a pair of scissors. My kids all learned in pre-school, and more important, I don’t think the act of cutting the cord makes a man a father. And, perhaps in a more subconscious way, I resent the symbolism of it. *I* grew this baby inside of me for nine months; *I* nurtured her; *I* pushed her out of my bagina ---- now a dad gets to show up and in one second .. SNIP! He’s an important part of the birthing process? No, I’m sorry, that’s just ignorant and asinine. He was an important part of the process nine months ago … now, he can bring me ice chips and smuggle me m&ms and simply stick around during my tortoise-labor to support me --- THAT is what makes him important, not cutting a stupid cord.
(I told you it was irrational and silly. But it's how I feel.)
When I was pregnant with Kellen and Kendrie, I tried explaining this feeling to Blaine, as a way of letting him know that I didn’t want him to cut the cord on either of them. I hoped it didn’t hurt his feeling, but I found it patronizing and insulting … and stupid. Have I mentioned stupid??? Blaine, thankfully, laughed, and said he could care less about cutting some dumb cord. Whew! But now I had to tell my counselor about this weird hang-up of mine, and that I didn’t think I would be comfortable with my IF cutting the cord.
She *did* think it was weird, but she told him. And while I have no idea if my IP’s thought it was weird or not, they were perfectly respectful about it. In fact, their exact words were that they had waited so long for this baby, a little cord cutting, or NOT, really wasn’t going to make any difference right at the end.
One final thing the counselor recommended was that Blaine and I work out a secret word, or secret code, for just the two of us. Then, if at any point during the labor or delivery things became overwhelming to me, and I reached a place where I needed to be alone, I simply needed to say the word. His job would be to recognize the word, and know that at that moment, he needed to find a polite, tactful way of getting the parents out of the room. The counselor explained, sometimes the physical pain, or emotions of what is happening can reach a point where you don’t want an audience. Maybe you just need a quiet moment to gather your thoughts, and collect yourself physically. And your husband’s job, as your primary support person, is to make sure you get it if you need it.
I told my counselor that I appreciated that, and would definitely take it under consideration. Then I called my IM and told her what my counselor had said. And told her that my secret code phrase, for when I needed them to step out of my room, was: “I need you to step the hell out of my room for a minute, please.”
Thankfully, she laughed.
And with that, I think our birth plan was in place. Weirdness and all.
At this point, with about two months to go until delivery, it was time for my counselor and me to discuss my Birth Plan. A Birth Plan is a written (or just thought-out, I suppose) idea of how you would ideally like the birth to go. It’s something that is recommended for anyone giving birth, but the agency especially recommends them for surrogate deliveries, since sometimes in the chaos that is “delivery”, you can lose focus on what is (or WAS) important to you. The birth plan is simply a way to make sure everyone – doctor, nurses, surrogate, surrogate’s husband, and the Intended Parents, are all on the same page, and have the same goals and expectations.
When my counselor called me to discuss it, she asked, “So, basically, what is your birth plan?” And I replied, “You know my birth plan. To have as many drugs as I need to be comfortable. And at the end, it would be nice if perhaps, maybe, hopefully, a real live baby could come out of my body.”
Somehow, I think she thought my expectations were a little low.
There were actually lots of things for me to consider, and she offered up other suggestions that had been important to other surrogates, for me to think about.
Was I comfortable having my couple in the room with me while I was in labor? While I was actually pushing? What if the hospital put a limit on the number of people who could be in the room? Who would I want then? Assuming I was comfortable having the couple in the room (I was) then where did I want them to stand? At the head of the bead? At the foot of the bed, so they could see their daughter being born? And see lots of other naughty bits? Was I ok with that? (I was not, sorry to be a prude, please stand at the head of the bed.)
What did I want to happen in the moments immediately after the baby was born? Did I want the doctor to place the baby on my stomach, as is traditionally done after delivery? Some surrogates feel very strongly that they be allowed to hold the baby first, and then they can physically “present” the newborn to his/her parents. Or they want the surrogate’s husband to be allowed that privilege, as a way of respecting his support during the entire process. In fact, I know one surrogate who felt strongly that she wanted to “present” the babies (she was having twins) to their parents, and explained to her IP’s how important that was to her. She wound up having an emergency c-section and was put under general anesthesia for the surgery. Her couple not only had the stress of making sure their babies were ok, but also making sure this surrogate, who they had grown to care about like a member of their own family, was alright as well. But this couple went way beyond that. They waited, several hours, to hold their own children, until the surrogate had come out of anesthesia, and could realize her dream of physically handing the babies to their parents. That is how much they respected the wishes of their surrogate ---- how freaking awesome is that?!?
Anyway, for ourselves, we were hoping our delivery would be a little less dramatic, but I did have a preference --- I wanted the baby to be immediately handed to her mother or father. I didn’t want her coming to me first. I felt as though my privilege had been to “hold” her for the past nine months …. Her parents should be the first ones to get that privilege once she was born.
More things to consider ---
Often, if a hospital has an available extra room, the family will be given their own room with the baby. In the event there were no extra rooms, however, after the baby is born and cleaned up, did I want the couple to have the opportunity to room in with me? Did I want the baby to stay in the nursery? Did I want private time with the baby, to feed her or change her? Some surrogates, either at the request, or with the blessing of, the Intended Parents, choose to nurse the baby in the hospital, or perhaps pump their breastmilk for the parents to bottle feed to the baby. Was I interested in either of those things? Was my couple?
Hospitals usually only give two wristbands, for people to have the right to check the baby out of the nursery. Obviously, they normally go to the mother and father … did I want one of the wristbands for myself? If not, did I want my couple to bring the baby to my room for visits?
And of course, the bottom line of any Birth Plan: realize that the unexpected can always happen, and be flexible if your birth plan goes to pot. Yes, it’s important to have a general idea of what you hope will happen, but it’s equally important to realize things don’t always go as planned. In my mind, the fewer expectations I had, the less likely I would be disappointed if something didn’t go the way I planned.
Finally, bottom line, I did wind up giving my counselor a list of a few specific requests:
I wanted to be able to take as many photos and video during that time as the hospital policy would allow. Turns out my couple also hoped I would feel comfortable if *they* took lots of photos, so we were all happy.
I asked that my children be allowed to visit the baby in the hospital. My counselor said not only was this allowed, but recommended. They were still young at the time; 2, 4, and 5, and I needed for them to see what this was all about. Thankfully, my couple said they couldn’t wait to meet my kids and that they were welcome at any time.
And then lastly, this is where the weirdness that is me became apparent. I have a *THING* … and I know it’s silly, and doesn’t make any rational sense, and in the big picture what does it matter anyway …. But I have this *THING* about the “ceremony” of allowing the father to cut the umbilical cord. Basically, that I think it is the dumbest, most superfluous, most inane example of stupid-ness on the planet. It’s this totally lame task that someone thought up … to what? Make the fathers feel important? Like they’ve contributed in some way? I’m sorry, but it’s no great skill to work a pair of scissors. My kids all learned in pre-school, and more important, I don’t think the act of cutting the cord makes a man a father. And, perhaps in a more subconscious way, I resent the symbolism of it. *I* grew this baby inside of me for nine months; *I* nurtured her; *I* pushed her out of my bagina ---- now a dad gets to show up and in one second .. SNIP! He’s an important part of the birthing process? No, I’m sorry, that’s just ignorant and asinine. He was an important part of the process nine months ago … now, he can bring me ice chips and smuggle me m&ms and simply stick around during my tortoise-labor to support me --- THAT is what makes him important, not cutting a stupid cord.
(I told you it was irrational and silly. But it's how I feel.)
When I was pregnant with Kellen and Kendrie, I tried explaining this feeling to Blaine, as a way of letting him know that I didn’t want him to cut the cord on either of them. I hoped it didn’t hurt his feeling, but I found it patronizing and insulting … and stupid. Have I mentioned stupid??? Blaine, thankfully, laughed, and said he could care less about cutting some dumb cord. Whew! But now I had to tell my counselor about this weird hang-up of mine, and that I didn’t think I would be comfortable with my IF cutting the cord.
She *did* think it was weird, but she told him. And while I have no idea if my IP’s thought it was weird or not, they were perfectly respectful about it. In fact, their exact words were that they had waited so long for this baby, a little cord cutting, or NOT, really wasn’t going to make any difference right at the end.
One final thing the counselor recommended was that Blaine and I work out a secret word, or secret code, for just the two of us. Then, if at any point during the labor or delivery things became overwhelming to me, and I reached a place where I needed to be alone, I simply needed to say the word. His job would be to recognize the word, and know that at that moment, he needed to find a polite, tactful way of getting the parents out of the room. The counselor explained, sometimes the physical pain, or emotions of what is happening can reach a point where you don’t want an audience. Maybe you just need a quiet moment to gather your thoughts, and collect yourself physically. And your husband’s job, as your primary support person, is to make sure you get it if you need it.
I told my counselor that I appreciated that, and would definitely take it under consideration. Then I called my IM and told her what my counselor had said. And told her that my secret code phrase, for when I needed them to step out of my room, was: “I need you to step the hell out of my room for a minute, please.”
Thankfully, she laughed.
And with that, I think our birth plan was in place. Weirdness and all.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Kristie, the drug-addict
Back about a million years ago, when Blaine and I had our very first interview with the counselor, after I initially applied to be a surrogate, one of the questions she asked was, “What type of couple would you NOT want to work with?” She went on to explain that the agency works with all types of Intended Parents ….. same sex couples, couples of different ethnic backgrounds, even single parents. Couples who want a LOT of contact with their surrogate; couples who don’t really want much contact at all. Couples who want to be very involved with the pregnancy; couples who don’t. Couples who want to stay close after the baby is born; couples who don’t. Couples from all over the country; couples from all over the world. Was there any thing at all that was a definite NO for me and Blaine??
I thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “No tree huggers.”
The counselor had never heard that term, so I explained to her what I meant: no “crunchy” people. No couple who wanted me to take pre-natal yoga classes, and get pre-natal massages or acupuncture. No giving birth in a bathtub, or pool of water in my living room, or in my own bed. No chanting or incense or monk music playing in the background during delivery. No bouncing on a delivery ball, no hypno-birthing, no bean-bag birthing chairs, no birthing stools. Basically, I wanted a couple that was medically main-stream. I wanted to give birth in a traditional hospital setting, and most importantly, with drugs on board. Lots and lots of drugs, in fact, if I decided I needed or wanted them. At all. Even for a hangnail.
Now, that’s not to say I think all of those less-conventional birthing methods are inherently bad. But even the first time I was pregnant, and planning to deliver Kellen, the idea of a home birth or water birth was a little out of the realm of “comfortable” for me. Do I think those things work for other people? Of course. Did I think, prior to giving birth to Kellen, that *I* wanted any of them? Not really. And especially not after giving birth twice, and discovering both times, that although I do the pregnancy thing really, really well ---- well, I pretty much suck at the delivering part.
My body doesn’t seem to know how to go into labor spontaneously, and I was ten days past due with both kids. I had to be induced both times (did you know that at so many days past due, your placenta starts to fall apart like a moldy sponge, and you really have no choice but to induce labor for the health of the baby? No? Neither did I. But me and my moldy-sponge placenta learned it both times.) And once induced, I am the tortoise-woman of labor. Entire shift changes can happen in a hospital, while I struggle to dilate even one more centimeter. I hear about women who show up at the hospital already dilated to a ten, and push for ten minutes and out pops a baby. That, no doubt, would be fabulous. But, it’s not me. My body is basically crap at the delivering part.
With Kellen and Kendrie both, I labored for hours, and then pushed for literally HOURS, and then still, no baby. Kellen wound up being a c-section because I had already been at the hospital 28 hours and quite frankly, didn’t have it in me to keep going. I pushed with Kendrie for over two hours before crying Uncle and letting the doctor pull her out with forceps, something that has apparently traumatized her for life.
Whatever. My point, in talking to this counselor, is that while I loved being pregnant, and was very excited about the possibility of being a surrogate …. Not so much with the deliveries. So I needed a couple who understood, and supported, my decision to give birth in a traditional hospital setting, in case another c-section became necessary. And a couple who wouldn’t be disappointed if I used pain relief during my marathon labor session. Because while I say more power to the women who *want*, and are successful, giving birth without drugs, that’s simply not me.
The counselor assured me that the final decision about whether or not to get pain relief during labor was up to me and my doctor; that under no circumstance could a couple dictate drugs or no drugs for a surrogate. Well, ok, I suspected as much, but I wanted to be sure any couple she matched me with not only knew I most likely would want drugs, but that they would be perfectly fine with that decision ahead of time. Other than that, I didn’t really have any deal-breakers. Match me with pretty much anyone, and I’d be happy, so long as they agreed with me that “epidural” was synonymous with “heaven.”
I thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “No tree huggers.”
The counselor had never heard that term, so I explained to her what I meant: no “crunchy” people. No couple who wanted me to take pre-natal yoga classes, and get pre-natal massages or acupuncture. No giving birth in a bathtub, or pool of water in my living room, or in my own bed. No chanting or incense or monk music playing in the background during delivery. No bouncing on a delivery ball, no hypno-birthing, no bean-bag birthing chairs, no birthing stools. Basically, I wanted a couple that was medically main-stream. I wanted to give birth in a traditional hospital setting, and most importantly, with drugs on board. Lots and lots of drugs, in fact, if I decided I needed or wanted them. At all. Even for a hangnail.
Now, that’s not to say I think all of those less-conventional birthing methods are inherently bad. But even the first time I was pregnant, and planning to deliver Kellen, the idea of a home birth or water birth was a little out of the realm of “comfortable” for me. Do I think those things work for other people? Of course. Did I think, prior to giving birth to Kellen, that *I* wanted any of them? Not really. And especially not after giving birth twice, and discovering both times, that although I do the pregnancy thing really, really well ---- well, I pretty much suck at the delivering part.
My body doesn’t seem to know how to go into labor spontaneously, and I was ten days past due with both kids. I had to be induced both times (did you know that at so many days past due, your placenta starts to fall apart like a moldy sponge, and you really have no choice but to induce labor for the health of the baby? No? Neither did I. But me and my moldy-sponge placenta learned it both times.) And once induced, I am the tortoise-woman of labor. Entire shift changes can happen in a hospital, while I struggle to dilate even one more centimeter. I hear about women who show up at the hospital already dilated to a ten, and push for ten minutes and out pops a baby. That, no doubt, would be fabulous. But, it’s not me. My body is basically crap at the delivering part.
With Kellen and Kendrie both, I labored for hours, and then pushed for literally HOURS, and then still, no baby. Kellen wound up being a c-section because I had already been at the hospital 28 hours and quite frankly, didn’t have it in me to keep going. I pushed with Kendrie for over two hours before crying Uncle and letting the doctor pull her out with forceps, something that has apparently traumatized her for life.
Whatever. My point, in talking to this counselor, is that while I loved being pregnant, and was very excited about the possibility of being a surrogate …. Not so much with the deliveries. So I needed a couple who understood, and supported, my decision to give birth in a traditional hospital setting, in case another c-section became necessary. And a couple who wouldn’t be disappointed if I used pain relief during my marathon labor session. Because while I say more power to the women who *want*, and are successful, giving birth without drugs, that’s simply not me.
The counselor assured me that the final decision about whether or not to get pain relief during labor was up to me and my doctor; that under no circumstance could a couple dictate drugs or no drugs for a surrogate. Well, ok, I suspected as much, but I wanted to be sure any couple she matched me with not only knew I most likely would want drugs, but that they would be perfectly fine with that decision ahead of time. Other than that, I didn’t really have any deal-breakers. Match me with pretty much anyone, and I’d be happy, so long as they agreed with me that “epidural” was synonymous with “heaven.”
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
And the cranky-pants hormones kick in.
As things continued to progress, and my stomach continued to get bigger and bigger, and it became more and more apparent that ,oh, I don’t know, perhaps a BABY would be coming out of it soon, the people around me started getting weirder and weirder. And naturally, being a hormonally-charged pregnant woman, I started getting crankier and crankier with them. When I wasn’t rushing to and from the bathroom all day, that is. How is it that my stomach and ankles get HUGE when I’m pregnant, but my bladder gets teeny-tiny????
I don’t get morning sickness. And since I’ve been pregnant five times (seven if you count the two miscarriages) and I’ve never had a day of it, I feel pretty confident that I’m not going to jinx myself by saying that. Actually, I’m one of those obnoxious people who LOVES being pregnant. I love to feel the baby kicking; I love to see my stomach get big. I feel healthy, and energetic, and fantastic. Sure, I waddle around, and grumble under my breath about the heartburn and carpal-tunnel-ey wrists, and about how ugly maternity swimsuits are, but overall, I love it. Love, love, love it. I don’t *think* I’m speaking an untruth when I say that I don’t complain very much during pregnancy, either, because I’m lucky, and have been fortunate never to have any complications or problems. Bottom line, during my pregnancies there isn’t really anything to complain about, so for the most part, I don’t.
In the last trimester, people --- specifically, the women in my new playgroup, who I did not know well --- started asking me “how was I feeling?” .... a lot. I assumed it was because they could tell from my, ahem, girth, that I was nearing the end, and probably not sleeping well, and getting tired and heavy. But whenever I would chirp back a cheerful, honest “I feel fine, thanks for asking!” I would often get a second, much more solicitous … “But really, how are you FEELING?” Like they were Dr. Phil, and I was some kind of mental patient who needed gentle handling with kid gloves.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that a lot of the people around me expected, and assumed, that I would be having all kinds of mental angst and second thoughts about my role as surrogate. Surely, now that I could feel the baby moving, I must be forming a close emotional bond. Surely, I must be a total basket case anticipating the delivery, and the ultimate act of returning this baby to her parents. Surely, the maternal ache deep in my gut would render me incapable of dealing with this situation in any sort of rational way. Surely, a mental breakdown over the fact I was GIVING THIS BABY AWAY was due any time.
Quite frankly, they were all pissing me off.
If I could be honest --- for surrogates, or at least for me, it felt like a lose-lose scenario. If I told people what they wanted, or expected, to hear, which was that I was worried about how I would feel after delivery, and that I was having second thoughts, and wasn’t sure I would be able to hand over the baby without feeling like I was giving away a part of myself …. Well, if I told them that, I would be a big fat liar. I felt none of those things.
Yes, I felt an attachment to the baby. For goodness’ sake, I’d been taking care of her for the past six or seven months, I would HOPE that I felt some kind of attachment! But not the attachment a mother feels for her child. Simply, the attachment I should feel as a caregiver, which is ultimately what I was. Did I want to protect this baby? And take care of her? And do the very best I could for her? Yes. Did I want to keep her? Did I love her like a child of my own? Did I feel sad, or angry, or depressed, at the thought that **I** wouldn’t be the one bringing her home from the hospital? No. Was I jealous that someone else would be handling the colic and the diaper changes and the 3am feedings??? Hell, no!!
But to say those things out loud made me sound like a cold-hearted shrew. Which I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am. I was actually excited for the delivery, and for the moment I would get to see my IP’s meet their new daughter for the first time. Why did so many people have a hard time understanding that?
Once or twice, I confess to losing my patience. Especially when someone would reply to my carefully thought-out, logical comments, with the response: “Well, I just don’t think I could do it.” Or, “There’s no way I could carry a baby for nine months and then just give it away.” I’ll admit, a few times, I actually answered with: “Well, I have a shriveled up raisin for a heart, so I guess it’s easy for me.” And then just walked away, smiling to myself.
Most of the time though, I simply did my best to state my position clearly …. I care about this baby, and care most about taking care of her until her parents can. And although I had never experienced labor and delivery as a surrogate, I was hopeful that it would be an amazing experience, and one that left me feeling fulfilled and joyful …. Not depressed or jealous or sad.
And any of the new playgroup moms who didn’t seem to understand that ….. well, I just did my best to stay away from them. Normally by excusing myself to use the restroom, since that was one excuse that never seemed suspicious. You know, what with the teeny-tiny bladder and all.
I don’t get morning sickness. And since I’ve been pregnant five times (seven if you count the two miscarriages) and I’ve never had a day of it, I feel pretty confident that I’m not going to jinx myself by saying that. Actually, I’m one of those obnoxious people who LOVES being pregnant. I love to feel the baby kicking; I love to see my stomach get big. I feel healthy, and energetic, and fantastic. Sure, I waddle around, and grumble under my breath about the heartburn and carpal-tunnel-ey wrists, and about how ugly maternity swimsuits are, but overall, I love it. Love, love, love it. I don’t *think* I’m speaking an untruth when I say that I don’t complain very much during pregnancy, either, because I’m lucky, and have been fortunate never to have any complications or problems. Bottom line, during my pregnancies there isn’t really anything to complain about, so for the most part, I don’t.
In the last trimester, people --- specifically, the women in my new playgroup, who I did not know well --- started asking me “how was I feeling?” .... a lot. I assumed it was because they could tell from my, ahem, girth, that I was nearing the end, and probably not sleeping well, and getting tired and heavy. But whenever I would chirp back a cheerful, honest “I feel fine, thanks for asking!” I would often get a second, much more solicitous … “But really, how are you FEELING?” Like they were Dr. Phil, and I was some kind of mental patient who needed gentle handling with kid gloves.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that a lot of the people around me expected, and assumed, that I would be having all kinds of mental angst and second thoughts about my role as surrogate. Surely, now that I could feel the baby moving, I must be forming a close emotional bond. Surely, I must be a total basket case anticipating the delivery, and the ultimate act of returning this baby to her parents. Surely, the maternal ache deep in my gut would render me incapable of dealing with this situation in any sort of rational way. Surely, a mental breakdown over the fact I was GIVING THIS BABY AWAY was due any time.
Quite frankly, they were all pissing me off.
If I could be honest --- for surrogates, or at least for me, it felt like a lose-lose scenario. If I told people what they wanted, or expected, to hear, which was that I was worried about how I would feel after delivery, and that I was having second thoughts, and wasn’t sure I would be able to hand over the baby without feeling like I was giving away a part of myself …. Well, if I told them that, I would be a big fat liar. I felt none of those things.
Yes, I felt an attachment to the baby. For goodness’ sake, I’d been taking care of her for the past six or seven months, I would HOPE that I felt some kind of attachment! But not the attachment a mother feels for her child. Simply, the attachment I should feel as a caregiver, which is ultimately what I was. Did I want to protect this baby? And take care of her? And do the very best I could for her? Yes. Did I want to keep her? Did I love her like a child of my own? Did I feel sad, or angry, or depressed, at the thought that **I** wouldn’t be the one bringing her home from the hospital? No. Was I jealous that someone else would be handling the colic and the diaper changes and the 3am feedings??? Hell, no!!
But to say those things out loud made me sound like a cold-hearted shrew. Which I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am. I was actually excited for the delivery, and for the moment I would get to see my IP’s meet their new daughter for the first time. Why did so many people have a hard time understanding that?
Once or twice, I confess to losing my patience. Especially when someone would reply to my carefully thought-out, logical comments, with the response: “Well, I just don’t think I could do it.” Or, “There’s no way I could carry a baby for nine months and then just give it away.” I’ll admit, a few times, I actually answered with: “Well, I have a shriveled up raisin for a heart, so I guess it’s easy for me.” And then just walked away, smiling to myself.
Most of the time though, I simply did my best to state my position clearly …. I care about this baby, and care most about taking care of her until her parents can. And although I had never experienced labor and delivery as a surrogate, I was hopeful that it would be an amazing experience, and one that left me feeling fulfilled and joyful …. Not depressed or jealous or sad.
And any of the new playgroup moms who didn’t seem to understand that ….. well, I just did my best to stay away from them. Normally by excusing myself to use the restroom, since that was one excuse that never seemed suspicious. You know, what with the teeny-tiny bladder and all.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
The Story ... Continued ... Typing it is taking just as long as I was actually pregnant
PS. I feel compelled to mention that I had dinner with three friends from high school last night ... the first time the four of us have gotten together at the same time since I moved home. One of them (love ya, Ep!) commented on my pregnancy .... about the same time I downed a pitcher of margaritas and ripped my shirt off to dance nekkid on the table top, I suppose. Kidding. You know I don't drink tequila.
When I said to her, with what must have been a funny look on my face (winded, you know, from the dancing on the table top) that I wasn't pregnant, she said, "I thought you were." And I replied, "No, I was, but I miscarried over Spring Break."
And she said, "But I just read on your blog about the ultrasound, and how it's only one baby .... you typed that, right???"
And that's when it occurred to me that I perhaps haven't done as good a job at reminding all of you that I'm RECAPPING my original surrogate pregnancy, and not telling a current story.
We had a good chuckle about the misunderstanding, and then ordered another pitcher, and then danced nekkid on the table some more. Because there have to be *SOME* perks to not being pregnant, right?
*****************************************************
Things continued to just roll along without any problems. {In my FIRST surrogate pregnancy, back in 2001/2002 time frame!} The amnio results had come back as normal, and confirmed that the baby was a girl. By the time I was 28 weeks along, I had taken all the requisite tests (I am one of the freaks who actually likes the flavor of the orange syrup glucose test ---- tastes just like the orange slush desserts we used to get in elementary school --- yummy!) and we began making some tentative plans regarding the delivery.
My due date was May 7th-ish, and I bought plane tickets for my mom and dad to come to Alabama a few days before and stay with my kids so Blaine could be with me at the hospital whenever the time came to deliver. There was always the chance I could deliver earlier than planned and my parents, or even the baby’s parents, might not be there in time, but Kellen and Kendrie were both ten days past their due dates, so I was hopeful this baby wouldn’t put in a surprise appearance earlier than any of us intended.
My IM and I were still talking on the phone often, and she was busy getting the nursery ready, and shopping for the items the baby would need. Her friends threw her a surprise private shower in a department store, after hours, with the salespeople serving them champagne, which I thought was about the coolest thing ever.
Despite all our excitement, and gratitude that things had gone so well, it’s still an unusual situation to find yourself in. Me, and her. Happy, but in an odd sort of limbo. She confirmed that to me on the phone one day, when she made the comment ….. “It’s just so weird to sit here, waiting for my baby to be born, and there’s nothing I can really do in the meantime. I’m not the one pregnant; I’m not the one in control; and while I’m happy, I can’t help feeling a little frustrated that it’s happening to someone else. That probably doesn’t make any sense to you, but its how I feel. Like I’m just …. Waiting around. An observer.”
I thought for a moment, and then said as gently and respectfully as possible, “I understand precisely how you feel. That’s exactly how I felt when M. was pregnant with Brayden, and I was at the mercy of someone else, and unable to be in charge of what was happening. I knew this marvelous thing was going to happen at the end, but in the meantime, I wasn’t really an active part of it, and I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing out. Yet admitting that felt ungrateful. So I think I understand just what you’re feeling.”
And she paused, and then said, “You’re exactly right …. I never thought of that. Of anyone else involved in this entire process, you know how I’m feeling probably better than anyone.”
And with that, I think our friendship, and level of respect for one another, was cemented.
When I said to her, with what must have been a funny look on my face (winded, you know, from the dancing on the table top) that I wasn't pregnant, she said, "I thought you were." And I replied, "No, I was, but I miscarried over Spring Break."
And she said, "But I just read on your blog about the ultrasound, and how it's only one baby .... you typed that, right???"
And that's when it occurred to me that I perhaps haven't done as good a job at reminding all of you that I'm RECAPPING my original surrogate pregnancy, and not telling a current story.
We had a good chuckle about the misunderstanding, and then ordered another pitcher, and then danced nekkid on the table some more. Because there have to be *SOME* perks to not being pregnant, right?
*****************************************************
Things continued to just roll along without any problems. {In my FIRST surrogate pregnancy, back in 2001/2002 time frame!} The amnio results had come back as normal, and confirmed that the baby was a girl. By the time I was 28 weeks along, I had taken all the requisite tests (I am one of the freaks who actually likes the flavor of the orange syrup glucose test ---- tastes just like the orange slush desserts we used to get in elementary school --- yummy!) and we began making some tentative plans regarding the delivery.
My due date was May 7th-ish, and I bought plane tickets for my mom and dad to come to Alabama a few days before and stay with my kids so Blaine could be with me at the hospital whenever the time came to deliver. There was always the chance I could deliver earlier than planned and my parents, or even the baby’s parents, might not be there in time, but Kellen and Kendrie were both ten days past their due dates, so I was hopeful this baby wouldn’t put in a surprise appearance earlier than any of us intended.
My IM and I were still talking on the phone often, and she was busy getting the nursery ready, and shopping for the items the baby would need. Her friends threw her a surprise private shower in a department store, after hours, with the salespeople serving them champagne, which I thought was about the coolest thing ever.
Despite all our excitement, and gratitude that things had gone so well, it’s still an unusual situation to find yourself in. Me, and her. Happy, but in an odd sort of limbo. She confirmed that to me on the phone one day, when she made the comment ….. “It’s just so weird to sit here, waiting for my baby to be born, and there’s nothing I can really do in the meantime. I’m not the one pregnant; I’m not the one in control; and while I’m happy, I can’t help feeling a little frustrated that it’s happening to someone else. That probably doesn’t make any sense to you, but its how I feel. Like I’m just …. Waiting around. An observer.”
I thought for a moment, and then said as gently and respectfully as possible, “I understand precisely how you feel. That’s exactly how I felt when M. was pregnant with Brayden, and I was at the mercy of someone else, and unable to be in charge of what was happening. I knew this marvelous thing was going to happen at the end, but in the meantime, I wasn’t really an active part of it, and I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing out. Yet admitting that felt ungrateful. So I think I understand just what you’re feeling.”
And she paused, and then said, “You’re exactly right …. I never thought of that. Of anyone else involved in this entire process, you know how I’m feeling probably better than anyone.”
And with that, I think our friendship, and level of respect for one another, was cemented.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Almost Half-Way
When I was at about the four-month mark in the pregnancy, my IM approached me about the possibility of me having an amniocentesis at the same time as the “big” ultrasound that is usually scheduled for the half-way mark. Not necessarily because we suspected anything was wrong, but because she was 39 when her eggs were harvested, and I think she wanted to hear an official “all-clear” on the health of the baby.
And so we decided, hey, we might as well make a party out of it. So they bought me a plane ticket to their home state, and we turned it into a three-day visit. And because I am nothing if not efficient (ie, lazy as anything) I’ll simply re-post excerpts from my original journal to tell you how things went:
Journal entry dated December 20, 2001:
“Wow, what an amazing time I had this weekend! I don’t even know if I can explain how great it was to spend time with this wonderful family and be included in their life, even if just for a few days ….
My first night in, we had dinner with her entire family, his entire family, some neighbors, and friends. Fifteen adults and nine children; with me placed firmly at the head of the table, toasts made and everything. It was definitely trial by fire, and I did feel self-conscious at first being the center of attention, but I had a very good time. They all were incredibly friendly and worked hard to make me feel at ease. This baby is obviously being welcomed by a lot of people! …..
The second day we got up and did the tour of NYC. I think I saw more in twelve hours than most people see in a week! Ground Zero, the top of the Empire State Building, Times Square (including Toys R Us), my first hot dog from a street vendor, the Plaza, horse and buggy ride around Central Park, FAO Schwartz, 5th Avenue, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, dinner, and Les Mis on Broadway … whew! I was exhausted by the time we returned home. Well, not really exhausted, I was kind of hopped up on all the sightseeing. S. had rented a car and driver for us so we didn’t have to hassle (or should I say, SHE didn’t have to hassle – like I would have been any help at all?) with traffic and parking. It was drizzling in the morning and a little on the cool side, but still a great day. And what better time to experience NYC than during the Christmas season? It is such a busy city, and she went to great lengths to make sure I had the complete tourist experience…
The next morning we all went to the doctor’s for the ultrasound and amnio. Everything went just fine and we are pretty sure they are having a girl (which is what I wanted, although it’s really not any of my business!) We’ll know for sure in a few weeks when the amnio results come in, but the tech said she was pretty sure. I think the staff was a little confused about the situation; who was who, why was my personal physician in another state, etc. The doctor was a bit gruff at the beginning, but warmed up after a few minutes. Then, during the post-op instruction portion, the nurses became quite interested in the process, asking S. and me lots of questions about surrogacy and our situation. Sometimes when that happens I am a little nervous about being a spokesperson for surrogacy in general. What if I don’t give the right answers? It was nice having S. there with me to answer their questions, and to make sure they got both perspectives….
I was supposed to be on “bed rest” for the next 24 hours, so we just went back to their house, had lunch, watched movies, and had friends come over to visit. It was very special for me to get to witness S. calling her sister on the phone, with the “it’s a girl!” announcement, and see her friends and family so obviously caring about the results. I got to look through their photo albums and just hang out, being lazy the entire day. How nice for me, but they must think I am one awful houseguest, just taking up space on their sofa! ….
I had a fantastic time and like this family even more now. I feel so lucky to have spent time with them like this and to have been welcomed in such a warm fashion. I mean, let’s be honest, I pretty much invited myself to stay in their home --- what else were they going to do, say no?? But they were kind, gracious hosts and I enjoyed myself immensely. Now, I just want the amnio results to come back and find out if it’s really a girl, and that everything is ok.
And so we decided, hey, we might as well make a party out of it. So they bought me a plane ticket to their home state, and we turned it into a three-day visit. And because I am nothing if not efficient (ie, lazy as anything) I’ll simply re-post excerpts from my original journal to tell you how things went:
Journal entry dated December 20, 2001:
“Wow, what an amazing time I had this weekend! I don’t even know if I can explain how great it was to spend time with this wonderful family and be included in their life, even if just for a few days ….
My first night in, we had dinner with her entire family, his entire family, some neighbors, and friends. Fifteen adults and nine children; with me placed firmly at the head of the table, toasts made and everything. It was definitely trial by fire, and I did feel self-conscious at first being the center of attention, but I had a very good time. They all were incredibly friendly and worked hard to make me feel at ease. This baby is obviously being welcomed by a lot of people! …..
The second day we got up and did the tour of NYC. I think I saw more in twelve hours than most people see in a week! Ground Zero, the top of the Empire State Building, Times Square (including Toys R Us), my first hot dog from a street vendor, the Plaza, horse and buggy ride around Central Park, FAO Schwartz, 5th Avenue, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, dinner, and Les Mis on Broadway … whew! I was exhausted by the time we returned home. Well, not really exhausted, I was kind of hopped up on all the sightseeing. S. had rented a car and driver for us so we didn’t have to hassle (or should I say, SHE didn’t have to hassle – like I would have been any help at all?) with traffic and parking. It was drizzling in the morning and a little on the cool side, but still a great day. And what better time to experience NYC than during the Christmas season? It is such a busy city, and she went to great lengths to make sure I had the complete tourist experience…
The next morning we all went to the doctor’s for the ultrasound and amnio. Everything went just fine and we are pretty sure they are having a girl (which is what I wanted, although it’s really not any of my business!) We’ll know for sure in a few weeks when the amnio results come in, but the tech said she was pretty sure. I think the staff was a little confused about the situation; who was who, why was my personal physician in another state, etc. The doctor was a bit gruff at the beginning, but warmed up after a few minutes. Then, during the post-op instruction portion, the nurses became quite interested in the process, asking S. and me lots of questions about surrogacy and our situation. Sometimes when that happens I am a little nervous about being a spokesperson for surrogacy in general. What if I don’t give the right answers? It was nice having S. there with me to answer their questions, and to make sure they got both perspectives….
I was supposed to be on “bed rest” for the next 24 hours, so we just went back to their house, had lunch, watched movies, and had friends come over to visit. It was very special for me to get to witness S. calling her sister on the phone, with the “it’s a girl!” announcement, and see her friends and family so obviously caring about the results. I got to look through their photo albums and just hang out, being lazy the entire day. How nice for me, but they must think I am one awful houseguest, just taking up space on their sofa! ….
I had a fantastic time and like this family even more now. I feel so lucky to have spent time with them like this and to have been welcomed in such a warm fashion. I mean, let’s be honest, I pretty much invited myself to stay in their home --- what else were they going to do, say no?? But they were kind, gracious hosts and I enjoyed myself immensely. Now, I just want the amnio results to come back and find out if it’s really a girl, and that everything is ok.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Talk. (No, not *that* talk ... the other one!)
Almost two months after I got pregnant, we planned a getaway for the October holiday weekend to Tennessee, with our friends Kim and Kenny from Ohio. The kids were THRILLED to see their old friends and for the chance to spend a few days with them. We rented a quaint (code for: dilapidated and stinky) house near the Smoky Mountains, and spent several days sightseeing, hiking, visiting the aquarium, chatting, chasing kids, making s’mores and catching up with one another.
In IVF, when you get the “official” notice that you are pregnant, you are already six or seven weeks along. So by this point, I was about ten to twelve weeks along in the pregnancy. Not really showing a huge amount yet, and for that reason, there hadn’t been any need to mention this surrogacy to my kids. All the months leading up to the transfer, there was no need for them to know what was going on. It was probably silly of me, but I didn’t want to tell the kids until we were certain there was going to be a baby at the end of the process. Obviously, the biology lesson was miles over their heads, and why confuse them about something they couldn’t see for themselves, anyway? I mean, they were only two, three, and four years of age, and quite frankly, they weren’t *that* observant! It wasn’t that I was purposely keeping the information from my kids, it just honestly hadn’t come up.
One afternoon during our weekend, we were hiking to a waterfall. The weather was gorgeous and I was stopping along the way, taking lots of pictures. The adults were scattered along the trail and the kids were able to run ahead, or lag behind, and there was still always a grown-up close by. Suddenly, I felt a small presence next to me, and I looked down to see Brayden walking by my side.
She looked up at me, almost shyly, and said, “I know you have a baby in your tummy.”
To be honest, I was shocked. (Note to Self: Never forget the little pitchers have big ears rule!!!) She must have heard me and Kim discussing it in the vacationshanty house, and she smiled up at me and let me know that my secret wasn’t actually so secret after all.
“Really?” I said, stalling for time, and not quite sure how to respond. “Well, that’s right. What else do you know about it?”
Brayden started talking, with great confidence that she had had things all figured out, “Well, when it’s time, you’ll go to the hospital and the doctor will help take the baby out. Then, you will bring it home and we will love it and feed it and give it food and stuff.” You could tell by her 4-yr old demeanor that she was so pleased with herself for understanding. I hated to burst her bubble, but I knew with certainty that I couldn’t allow her to think the baby was ours to keep.
“Brayden,” I began hesitantly, realizing instinctively that this was one of those IMPORTANT parenting moments, and really wanting to get things right. “Do you remember last summer when we went home to Oklahoma on vacation? And I took you and showed you the hospital where you were born?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“And you remember how I told you that in the hospital, you came out of M’s tummy because Mommy’s tummy was broken, but that Daddy and I were waiting at the hospital for you, and then we brought you home because we are your parents?”
“Yes,” she replied again, more cautiously this time.
“And you remember how your parents are the people who take care of you and love you, and not always the person whose tummy you grow in? Well, this is sort of the same thing. Mommy is growing this baby in her tummy for someone else, whose tummy is broken. And when the baby is born in the hospital, it will go home with its mommy and daddy who will love it and take care of it, just like Daddy and I take care of you.”
Silence. She was obviously absorbing, and processing, and thinking.
I hesitated; worried I had explained it too simplistically. Or too complicated. Too, too … anything. Geez, had I just scarred my child for life?
“So, do you understand what I’m saying?”
Then she looked up at me, with this scrutinizing look on her face, and you could see the wheels in her brain turning.
“Please God,” I prayed a silent prayer, “Please let me have explained that properly so she understands and I didn’t just warp her little mind ……”
Then Brayden asked with finality, and total conviction: “But we WILL still get presents when the baby is born, right?”
And I laughed out loud and assured her that yes, when the baby was born, Daddy and I would make sure that they got presents.
And she said ok, and ran ahead to catch up to the other kids.
And with that, it’s never been questioned again.
I’m so proud to know my girl’s got her priorities straight.
In IVF, when you get the “official” notice that you are pregnant, you are already six or seven weeks along. So by this point, I was about ten to twelve weeks along in the pregnancy. Not really showing a huge amount yet, and for that reason, there hadn’t been any need to mention this surrogacy to my kids. All the months leading up to the transfer, there was no need for them to know what was going on. It was probably silly of me, but I didn’t want to tell the kids until we were certain there was going to be a baby at the end of the process. Obviously, the biology lesson was miles over their heads, and why confuse them about something they couldn’t see for themselves, anyway? I mean, they were only two, three, and four years of age, and quite frankly, they weren’t *that* observant! It wasn’t that I was purposely keeping the information from my kids, it just honestly hadn’t come up.
One afternoon during our weekend, we were hiking to a waterfall. The weather was gorgeous and I was stopping along the way, taking lots of pictures. The adults were scattered along the trail and the kids were able to run ahead, or lag behind, and there was still always a grown-up close by. Suddenly, I felt a small presence next to me, and I looked down to see Brayden walking by my side.
She looked up at me, almost shyly, and said, “I know you have a baby in your tummy.”
To be honest, I was shocked. (Note to Self: Never forget the little pitchers have big ears rule!!!) She must have heard me and Kim discussing it in the vacation
“Really?” I said, stalling for time, and not quite sure how to respond. “Well, that’s right. What else do you know about it?”
Brayden started talking, with great confidence that she had had things all figured out, “Well, when it’s time, you’ll go to the hospital and the doctor will help take the baby out. Then, you will bring it home and we will love it and feed it and give it food and stuff.” You could tell by her 4-yr old demeanor that she was so pleased with herself for understanding. I hated to burst her bubble, but I knew with certainty that I couldn’t allow her to think the baby was ours to keep.
“Brayden,” I began hesitantly, realizing instinctively that this was one of those IMPORTANT parenting moments, and really wanting to get things right. “Do you remember last summer when we went home to Oklahoma on vacation? And I took you and showed you the hospital where you were born?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“And you remember how I told you that in the hospital, you came out of M’s tummy because Mommy’s tummy was broken, but that Daddy and I were waiting at the hospital for you, and then we brought you home because we are your parents?”
“Yes,” she replied again, more cautiously this time.
“And you remember how your parents are the people who take care of you and love you, and not always the person whose tummy you grow in? Well, this is sort of the same thing. Mommy is growing this baby in her tummy for someone else, whose tummy is broken. And when the baby is born in the hospital, it will go home with its mommy and daddy who will love it and take care of it, just like Daddy and I take care of you.”
Silence. She was obviously absorbing, and processing, and thinking.
I hesitated; worried I had explained it too simplistically. Or too complicated. Too, too … anything. Geez, had I just scarred my child for life?
“So, do you understand what I’m saying?”
Then she looked up at me, with this scrutinizing look on her face, and you could see the wheels in her brain turning.
“Please God,” I prayed a silent prayer, “Please let me have explained that properly so she understands and I didn’t just warp her little mind ……”
Then Brayden asked with finality, and total conviction: “But we WILL still get presents when the baby is born, right?”
And I laughed out loud and assured her that yes, when the baby was born, Daddy and I would make sure that they got presents.
And she said ok, and ran ahead to catch up to the other kids.
And with that, it’s never been questioned again.
I’m so proud to know my girl’s got her priorities straight.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Rolling Along
The first few months of the pregnancy were text-book. Just like my own pregnancies, I felt great, had a huge appetite, and no complications. Not even any morning sickness (touch wood, rub a lucky rabbit’s foot, throw salt over your shoulder, whatever, I’ve never had it and never want it.) I found an obstetrician in Montgomery, Alabama, who had never delivered a surrogate baby but who viewed it as a positive, exciting situation, so that greatly eased my mind about the process. His staff was open and encouraging, and I enjoyed my monthly visits to see him.
As I started to show (which considering how much I EAT when I’m pregnant, doesn’t normally take too long) more and more people starting asking if I was pregnant, hence more and more people were learning about the surrogacy. These were all new friends and acquaintances, since we’d only lived in Alabama a few months. Luckily for me, I didn’t meet anyone who wasn’t interested, and kind, or who didn’t approve. At least not openly. There was even a mom in my new playgroup who had used a surrogate to deliver her own twins, who were now two years old. She and I were able to bond over this and it was fun for me to get her take on the situation, Her own surrogacy relationship had been a very healthy, successful one, and I think it was fun for her to get to re-live some of those memories through me, as well.
In the meantime, I continued to get better and better acquainted with my IM through telephone calls. We didn’t talk every day, but probably once or twice a week; maybe more if it was a week I had a doctor’s appointment. The more I got to know her, the more I liked her, and the happier it made me to hear her excitement about this pregnancy.
As I started to show (which considering how much I EAT when I’m pregnant, doesn’t normally take too long) more and more people starting asking if I was pregnant, hence more and more people were learning about the surrogacy. These were all new friends and acquaintances, since we’d only lived in Alabama a few months. Luckily for me, I didn’t meet anyone who wasn’t interested, and kind, or who didn’t approve. At least not openly. There was even a mom in my new playgroup who had used a surrogate to deliver her own twins, who were now two years old. She and I were able to bond over this and it was fun for me to get her take on the situation, Her own surrogacy relationship had been a very healthy, successful one, and I think it was fun for her to get to re-live some of those memories through me, as well.
In the meantime, I continued to get better and better acquainted with my IM through telephone calls. We didn’t talk every day, but probably once or twice a week; maybe more if it was a week I had a doctor’s appointment. The more I got to know her, the more I liked her, and the happier it made me to hear her excitement about this pregnancy.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Uno? Dos?
Journal entry originally dated 9-18-2001:
“Today was our ultrasound, and like I suspected, the family had to get their news via the telephone. I don’t think they could have gotten flights out, even if they had been able to take the time off to come. So, I recorded the u/s with a VHS tape, and called S. on my cell phone just as I was getting settled in with the tech. Then, I made the u/s technician talk REALLY LOUDLY so S. could hear everything, exactly the same time as I heard it. The verdict? A healthy looking, beautiful singleton pregnancy! Slightly larger than a grain of rice, and measuring in at 7 weeks, 1 day, the baby showed off a strong, rapid heart rate. What a wonderful thing to see, and a wonderful way to start my day! Due date, approximately May 5-7. Wow!!”
“Today was our ultrasound, and like I suspected, the family had to get their news via the telephone. I don’t think they could have gotten flights out, even if they had been able to take the time off to come. So, I recorded the u/s with a VHS tape, and called S. on my cell phone just as I was getting settled in with the tech. Then, I made the u/s technician talk REALLY LOUDLY so S. could hear everything, exactly the same time as I heard it. The verdict? A healthy looking, beautiful singleton pregnancy! Slightly larger than a grain of rice, and measuring in at 7 weeks, 1 day, the baby showed off a strong, rapid heart rate. What a wonderful thing to see, and a wonderful way to start my day! Due date, approximately May 5-7. Wow!!”
Friday, May 23, 2008
Still Waiting for the Ultrasound
The first thing I did after hearing about the attacks -- once I calmed down and finished saying a prayer for everyone involved -- was to call my IM on the phone, to make sure my IF was safe. I knew he worked *somewhere* in downtown NYC, but I had never been there and had no idea what was where. Manhattan? Wall Street? Were they all the same place?
Because they lived about an hour from the city, phone lines weren’t a problem at their house and I was able to get through without difficulty. My relief at hearing the phone ring quickly turned to fear when she answered the phone in a panicked voice, “Honey? Is that you???”
She wound up not hearing from him for hours because *he* had so much trouble getting a phone line that day, even on his cell. I found out later that he did indeed work in one of the other World Trade Center buildings, and was evacuated after the first plane hit. He was standing on the street and saw the second plane fly into the building. At that point, he started hoofing it out of the city and was finally able to get a ride home, hours later.
At the time, theirs was the only family I knew even indirectly affected by the bombings. Their son had a classmate who lost a father, and because he worked in the finance industry, my IF knew people who had been killed. Like most Americans, I was stunned at what had happened, intensely grateful that he was ok, and had a weird sense of guilt about being not only personally un-affected, but happy for our pregnancy situation, in spite of everything else. My IF was not harmed, although he was never able to go back to his office due to building damage. While NYC struggled to dig out of the rubble, both literally and emotionally, I felt embarrassed and awkward to be happy about the fact I was pregnant. It just didn’t seem right to be excited for an ultrasound for one tiny baby, when so many lives had been lost.
After a week had passed, this is what I wrote in my journal:
“Although it feels shallow not to mention the attacks on the Pentagon and WTC, considering it’s only been a week and so many thousands of lives have been altered, as well as the course of the future of our country … in ways we most likely haven’t even realized yet, you know what? I’m not going to. This is supposed to be a journal about a happy time in my life, and a happy event. Not a social commentary about stories and memories of a bleak time in America’s history. I’m sorry the events happened at all; I know this will affect all of us in many ways to come, but this journal is going to be about this marvelous pregnancy, and will allow us to reflect back later on exciting, happy times and events. And to quote Forrest Gump: 'that’s all I have to say about that.'"
And with that, I allowed myself to get excited again for the ultrasound scheduled the next morning.
Because they lived about an hour from the city, phone lines weren’t a problem at their house and I was able to get through without difficulty. My relief at hearing the phone ring quickly turned to fear when she answered the phone in a panicked voice, “Honey? Is that you???”
She wound up not hearing from him for hours because *he* had so much trouble getting a phone line that day, even on his cell. I found out later that he did indeed work in one of the other World Trade Center buildings, and was evacuated after the first plane hit. He was standing on the street and saw the second plane fly into the building. At that point, he started hoofing it out of the city and was finally able to get a ride home, hours later.
At the time, theirs was the only family I knew even indirectly affected by the bombings. Their son had a classmate who lost a father, and because he worked in the finance industry, my IF knew people who had been killed. Like most Americans, I was stunned at what had happened, intensely grateful that he was ok, and had a weird sense of guilt about being not only personally un-affected, but happy for our pregnancy situation, in spite of everything else. My IF was not harmed, although he was never able to go back to his office due to building damage. While NYC struggled to dig out of the rubble, both literally and emotionally, I felt embarrassed and awkward to be happy about the fact I was pregnant. It just didn’t seem right to be excited for an ultrasound for one tiny baby, when so many lives had been lost.
After a week had passed, this is what I wrote in my journal:
“Although it feels shallow not to mention the attacks on the Pentagon and WTC, considering it’s only been a week and so many thousands of lives have been altered, as well as the course of the future of our country … in ways we most likely haven’t even realized yet, you know what? I’m not going to. This is supposed to be a journal about a happy time in my life, and a happy event. Not a social commentary about stories and memories of a bleak time in America’s history. I’m sorry the events happened at all; I know this will affect all of us in many ways to come, but this journal is going to be about this marvelous pregnancy, and will allow us to reflect back later on exciting, happy times and events. And to quote Forrest Gump: 'that’s all I have to say about that.'"
And with that, I allowed myself to get excited again for the ultrasound scheduled the next morning.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Waiting for the Ultrasound
Normally you wait about two weeks between the first positive (official) blood pregnancy test and the ultrasound. In between, you get one or two more blood tests to make sure your beta hcg levels are rising appropriately. The number should be doubling every 36 to 48 hours or so, and, depending on how quickly the number rises, people start guessing whether it’s twins or a singleton. Again, not a fool-proof method of determining how many embryos stuck around, but still a fun way to pass the time before the ultrasound.
I told myself I wouldn’t obsess about “one or two?” like I had obsessed about whether or not it worked at all. But of course I did. I totally did. One or two? One or two? I couldn’t WAIT for the ultrasound and was so excited.
My couple was planning to fly in for the ultrasound, as well. Of course it’s not necessary, but wouldn’t it be fun to find out together? I was looking forward to introducing them to my kids, and Blaine was looking forward to seeing them again, too. Although I had seen them several times for transfers and meetings, he had not seen them since our initial match meeting, nine months before.
The week before my ultrasound I was feeling so pleased with how well things were going – my blood tests showed my numbers were rising appropriately, so I was able to feel confident and good about the pregnancy. My IP’s were thrilled, every time I talked to them I could hear the excitement in their voices. At long last Labor Day had arrived, which meant my kids and I were finally becoming active in playgroups, and meeting some new people in Alabama. Fifteen long months since I initially applied to be a surrogate, and waiting and waiting to reach this point, I was truly content with where I was.
The Tuesday before my ultrasound was scheduled I took my kids to their twice-weekly Mother’s Day Out program. They were settling in well with their new teachers and friends, and I was looking forward to a relaxing day at home. NOT that I would sit around obsessing about whether I was pregnant with one or two …. Just relaxing.
I don’t watch tv or listen to the radio during the day, so it wasn’t until I got a frantic call from my mother that I heard the news:
The Twin Towers in NYC had been attacked.
My mother, understandably, was worried about what this would mean for Blaine, being an active-duty military member.
All I could think of was my Intended Father, who worked for a finance corporation in downtown NYC --- I wasn’t sure where, and tried hard not to panic myself.
************************************************
PS. Do not freak out --- he was ok. I am going to be busy the next few days and am not sure when I will be able to post again .... I didn't want anyone using the "cliffhanger" accusation in the comment section, so let me assure you now that he was ok! :)
I told myself I wouldn’t obsess about “one or two?” like I had obsessed about whether or not it worked at all. But of course I did. I totally did. One or two? One or two? I couldn’t WAIT for the ultrasound and was so excited.
My couple was planning to fly in for the ultrasound, as well. Of course it’s not necessary, but wouldn’t it be fun to find out together? I was looking forward to introducing them to my kids, and Blaine was looking forward to seeing them again, too. Although I had seen them several times for transfers and meetings, he had not seen them since our initial match meeting, nine months before.
The week before my ultrasound I was feeling so pleased with how well things were going – my blood tests showed my numbers were rising appropriately, so I was able to feel confident and good about the pregnancy. My IP’s were thrilled, every time I talked to them I could hear the excitement in their voices. At long last Labor Day had arrived, which meant my kids and I were finally becoming active in playgroups, and meeting some new people in Alabama. Fifteen long months since I initially applied to be a surrogate, and waiting and waiting to reach this point, I was truly content with where I was.
The Tuesday before my ultrasound was scheduled I took my kids to their twice-weekly Mother’s Day Out program. They were settling in well with their new teachers and friends, and I was looking forward to a relaxing day at home. NOT that I would sit around obsessing about whether I was pregnant with one or two …. Just relaxing.
I don’t watch tv or listen to the radio during the day, so it wasn’t until I got a frantic call from my mother that I heard the news:
The Twin Towers in NYC had been attacked.
My mother, understandably, was worried about what this would mean for Blaine, being an active-duty military member.
All I could think of was my Intended Father, who worked for a finance corporation in downtown NYC --- I wasn’t sure where, and tried hard not to panic myself.
************************************************
PS. Do not freak out --- he was ok. I am going to be busy the next few days and am not sure when I will be able to post again .... I didn't want anyone using the "cliffhanger" accusation in the comment section, so let me assure you now that he was ok! :)
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
More Q & A
Anonymous asked: Here's a question: any comment on the new movie "Baby Mama"? As I watched it, I was both disappointed by the writing, acting, and general premise, but was also thinking about your story. After reading your account of this journey, seems like that movie would be a real slap in the face!
Dear Anonymous, when I first saw the trailer for the movie, I was offended just watching that little bit of it. Then I told myself I needed to pull the stick out of my ass and just enjoy it for what it is: a light-hearted comedy about a subject close to my own heart. I mean, did Jeff Gordon get upset by Talladega Nights? Did Kristi Yamaguchi get offended by Blades of Glory? (Not that I’m comparing myself to celebrities, but you know what I mean.)
Then, a fellow surrogate went to see it and told me that not only was it NOT funny, but it was not even remotely accurate, and that it painted a terrible portrait of surrogates as stupid, greedy, irresponsible women. Unfortunately, I don’t think the vast majority of people actually KNOW any surrogates, so I am bothered by the possibility some people might watch that movie and think that it’s accurate in its assessment, all for the sake of a laugh. I don’t know, maybe I’m too uptight. Maybe I really DO need to pull the stick out. But until then, I won’t be watching it.
Kathy in NC asks: One question you may not want to answer....do you have to pay income taxes on the labor of your womb?
Kathy, no, it’s considered pre-birth child support and as such, is non-taxable. Just like many insurance companies are starting to make exclusions for surrogate pregnancies, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just a matter of time until the compensation becomes taxable by law.
Susan from TX asks: - once you got pregnant - how did you explain to your kids that the baby would not stay with you? Did they ever get confused? Did you ever have problems with other people in your life not understanding that the baby was not "yours"
Susan, I can tell you honestly that no, this has never been an issue for my kids. In fact, I have a great story to tell later that will show just how well this has served as a learning experience for my own children.
Enya asks: You're probably going to cover this later on, but I'll ask anyway. How is the delivery planned? If you, the IP, and the fertility clinic are in all different states, where do you have the baby? I would assume that the IP come to you, but, even then, it's not like you can predict when you're going to go into labor. Do you pick a day and induce? How often does a surrogate go into labor early and the IP miss it?
Enya, this can vary from situation to situation, but for the vast majority of surrogate pregnancies, the IP’s come to wherever the surrogate lives for delivery, and an induction date is scheduled to help everyone make plans. For a surrogate to travel to the IP’s state (assuming they live in different states) means she would have to move there for weeks, or longer, finding a new doctor and waiting for the birth. Obviously, that is pretty impractical, considering most surrogates have not only families of their own to take care of, but jobs as well.
However, when the surro and the IP’s live apart, the possibility the IP’s could miss the birth can be a real concern. The delivery is typically the pinnacle of the entire experience, and no-one wants to miss it. So, IP’s will usually come days, or even weeks, before, if it’s possible, just to ensure they are there for the big day. A friend of mine delivered recently for a couple from another country, and unexpectedly delivered a few weeks early. The parents not only missed the birth, but couldn’t even get flights into the country until two days later, which was nobody’s fault, but still unfortunate.
For me, since I have never gone into labor early, but in fact normally have to use a crowbar, a blowtorch, and some circus midgets to get the babies out, I’ve had my IP’s present for every birth, something I am VERY thankful for.
Hi! I never comment but I read your blog everyday. I was wondering do they have a cutoff age for surrogates and is the whole process any faster or easier after you've already done it once?
When I first investigated surrogacy, the cut-off age for the agency I used was 37. It has since been raised to 42, but I’ve been told that most RE’s will go higher than that for experienced surrogates who are still in excellent health. Thank goodness, since I’m pushing 42 myself and don’t feel “done” yet!
Sometimes the second process is faster; sometimes it is not. There are so many variables that it’s hard to predict, plus a lot matters on how much time has elapsed between pregnancies.
Melissa asked: Here's what I've always wondered; when I was pregnant, strangers would often ask when I was due, if it was my first, etc. Did you get these same kind of small-talk comments also, and if so did you just go along, smile, nod, and act like it was just a typical pregnancy? I guess that would be easier than explaining everything to a stranger, but I always wondered how you'd respond to comments like that.
Melissa, for me, it depends on the situation, how well I know the person, whether or not I will ever see them again, and on my mood that day. Sometimes I don’t mention it at all and just accept their comments with a smile; sometimes I’ll give a brief explanation and depending on the response I get, go more into detail if time allows. I’m proud of being a surrogate and would happily tattoo it on my forehead so everyone could know, but honestly, it’s not practical to think I can explain the situation to every single person I see for nine months, especially total strangers I only meet in passing who I will never see again. Then again, you’d be amazed how many people I have *assumed* knew I was a surrogate, only for them to ask me a few weeks after delivery, “Where’s that new baby of yours?” So maybe I SHOULD explain to everyone, ha!
Denise Tidwell asked: How many times do couples try typically? Is this normal not to work the first time? How disappointing!
Denise, sometimes it works the first try, sometimes the second, sometimes the third …. Or more. Honestly, how many times a couple is willing to try depends on their financial and emotional resources. It’s normally written into the legal contracts that after four failed attempts, both the IP’s and the surrogate are released from any further obligation to try again. (Of course, nobody can make you try a second time ... but it's good to have a written number in there to clear up everyone's expectations.) After three or four failed attempts, the doctors will often suggest a couple find a new surrogate. I’ve seen that happen, and the couple went on to get their next surrogate pregnant on the first attempt, and I’ve known surrogates who moved on to a new couple and then got pregnant immediately as well. So who knows what the magic combination is, why it works quickly for some and not for others …..
I don't know if you want to answer this, but you touched on your challenges with conceiving children... what was her fertility issue? I feel so nosy, but since you never mention her by name, I thought it was o.k. to ask why people commonly seek out surrogates. OK, I asked.
Well, one reason a woman might need a surrogate is because she could have been advised by her doctor not to become pregnant due to underlying health issues, such as heart problems, kidney problems, blood disorders, chronic miscarriages, chronic premature deliveries, etc. A pregnancy could be dangerous to her health, or the health of the unborn child. Or, perhaps she is physically unable to carry a pregnancy. Perhaps a woman has had uterine cancer and had her uterus removed, or has a malformed uterus, or, like my cousin, was born without a uterus. I think one of the more common reasons is due to emergency hysterectomies, taking place either as a result of a crisis during a previous delivery, or (in the case of my first IM) losing a child during pregnancy and having an unplanned, emergency hysterectomy. Any way you look at it, it’s a huge loss, not being able to carry your own child, and my heart goes out to these women who have to deal with the emotional aspects of their grief and challenges before moving forward. No matter how great of a solution I think surrogacy is, it definitely takes a special mom-to-be who can reach the point of being mentally and emotionally stable with not only allowing another woman to carry her child, but being excited about it.
Although I’ve heard the rumors about celebrities hiring surrogates so they can keep their figure, or career women who can’t be bothered with the inconvenience of pregnancy …. I have to believe that is VERY few and far between, if not completely unheard of. Someone is really going to go to the expense and trouble of using a surrogate because she doesn’t want stretch marks? Really? And some surrogate is going to agree to that??? Hmmm. In fact, I’ve never known any surrogate to carry for ANYONE who didn’t have a legitimate physical need. I'm not saying it NEVER happens, but in my heart of hearts, I believe that surrogacy is not a matter of convenience, but a labor of love and mutual respect.
Dear Anonymous, when I first saw the trailer for the movie, I was offended just watching that little bit of it. Then I told myself I needed to pull the stick out of my ass and just enjoy it for what it is: a light-hearted comedy about a subject close to my own heart. I mean, did Jeff Gordon get upset by Talladega Nights? Did Kristi Yamaguchi get offended by Blades of Glory? (Not that I’m comparing myself to celebrities, but you know what I mean.)
Then, a fellow surrogate went to see it and told me that not only was it NOT funny, but it was not even remotely accurate, and that it painted a terrible portrait of surrogates as stupid, greedy, irresponsible women. Unfortunately, I don’t think the vast majority of people actually KNOW any surrogates, so I am bothered by the possibility some people might watch that movie and think that it’s accurate in its assessment, all for the sake of a laugh. I don’t know, maybe I’m too uptight. Maybe I really DO need to pull the stick out. But until then, I won’t be watching it.
Kathy in NC asks: One question you may not want to answer....do you have to pay income taxes on the labor of your womb?
Kathy, no, it’s considered pre-birth child support and as such, is non-taxable. Just like many insurance companies are starting to make exclusions for surrogate pregnancies, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just a matter of time until the compensation becomes taxable by law.
Susan from TX asks: - once you got pregnant - how did you explain to your kids that the baby would not stay with you? Did they ever get confused? Did you ever have problems with other people in your life not understanding that the baby was not "yours"
Susan, I can tell you honestly that no, this has never been an issue for my kids. In fact, I have a great story to tell later that will show just how well this has served as a learning experience for my own children.
Enya asks: You're probably going to cover this later on, but I'll ask anyway. How is the delivery planned? If you, the IP, and the fertility clinic are in all different states, where do you have the baby? I would assume that the IP come to you, but, even then, it's not like you can predict when you're going to go into labor. Do you pick a day and induce? How often does a surrogate go into labor early and the IP miss it?
Enya, this can vary from situation to situation, but for the vast majority of surrogate pregnancies, the IP’s come to wherever the surrogate lives for delivery, and an induction date is scheduled to help everyone make plans. For a surrogate to travel to the IP’s state (assuming they live in different states) means she would have to move there for weeks, or longer, finding a new doctor and waiting for the birth. Obviously, that is pretty impractical, considering most surrogates have not only families of their own to take care of, but jobs as well.
However, when the surro and the IP’s live apart, the possibility the IP’s could miss the birth can be a real concern. The delivery is typically the pinnacle of the entire experience, and no-one wants to miss it. So, IP’s will usually come days, or even weeks, before, if it’s possible, just to ensure they are there for the big day. A friend of mine delivered recently for a couple from another country, and unexpectedly delivered a few weeks early. The parents not only missed the birth, but couldn’t even get flights into the country until two days later, which was nobody’s fault, but still unfortunate.
For me, since I have never gone into labor early, but in fact normally have to use a crowbar, a blowtorch, and some circus midgets to get the babies out, I’ve had my IP’s present for every birth, something I am VERY thankful for.
Hi! I never comment but I read your blog everyday. I was wondering do they have a cutoff age for surrogates and is the whole process any faster or easier after you've already done it once?
When I first investigated surrogacy, the cut-off age for the agency I used was 37. It has since been raised to 42, but I’ve been told that most RE’s will go higher than that for experienced surrogates who are still in excellent health. Thank goodness, since I’m pushing 42 myself and don’t feel “done” yet!
Sometimes the second process is faster; sometimes it is not. There are so many variables that it’s hard to predict, plus a lot matters on how much time has elapsed between pregnancies.
Melissa asked: Here's what I've always wondered; when I was pregnant, strangers would often ask when I was due, if it was my first, etc. Did you get these same kind of small-talk comments also, and if so did you just go along, smile, nod, and act like it was just a typical pregnancy? I guess that would be easier than explaining everything to a stranger, but I always wondered how you'd respond to comments like that.
Melissa, for me, it depends on the situation, how well I know the person, whether or not I will ever see them again, and on my mood that day. Sometimes I don’t mention it at all and just accept their comments with a smile; sometimes I’ll give a brief explanation and depending on the response I get, go more into detail if time allows. I’m proud of being a surrogate and would happily tattoo it on my forehead so everyone could know, but honestly, it’s not practical to think I can explain the situation to every single person I see for nine months, especially total strangers I only meet in passing who I will never see again. Then again, you’d be amazed how many people I have *assumed* knew I was a surrogate, only for them to ask me a few weeks after delivery, “Where’s that new baby of yours?” So maybe I SHOULD explain to everyone, ha!
Denise Tidwell asked: How many times do couples try typically? Is this normal not to work the first time? How disappointing!
Denise, sometimes it works the first try, sometimes the second, sometimes the third …. Or more. Honestly, how many times a couple is willing to try depends on their financial and emotional resources. It’s normally written into the legal contracts that after four failed attempts, both the IP’s and the surrogate are released from any further obligation to try again. (Of course, nobody can make you try a second time ... but it's good to have a written number in there to clear up everyone's expectations.) After three or four failed attempts, the doctors will often suggest a couple find a new surrogate. I’ve seen that happen, and the couple went on to get their next surrogate pregnant on the first attempt, and I’ve known surrogates who moved on to a new couple and then got pregnant immediately as well. So who knows what the magic combination is, why it works quickly for some and not for others …..
I don't know if you want to answer this, but you touched on your challenges with conceiving children... what was her fertility issue? I feel so nosy, but since you never mention her by name, I thought it was o.k. to ask why people commonly seek out surrogates. OK, I asked.
Well, one reason a woman might need a surrogate is because she could have been advised by her doctor not to become pregnant due to underlying health issues, such as heart problems, kidney problems, blood disorders, chronic miscarriages, chronic premature deliveries, etc. A pregnancy could be dangerous to her health, or the health of the unborn child. Or, perhaps she is physically unable to carry a pregnancy. Perhaps a woman has had uterine cancer and had her uterus removed, or has a malformed uterus, or, like my cousin, was born without a uterus. I think one of the more common reasons is due to emergency hysterectomies, taking place either as a result of a crisis during a previous delivery, or (in the case of my first IM) losing a child during pregnancy and having an unplanned, emergency hysterectomy. Any way you look at it, it’s a huge loss, not being able to carry your own child, and my heart goes out to these women who have to deal with the emotional aspects of their grief and challenges before moving forward. No matter how great of a solution I think surrogacy is, it definitely takes a special mom-to-be who can reach the point of being mentally and emotionally stable with not only allowing another woman to carry her child, but being excited about it.
Although I’ve heard the rumors about celebrities hiring surrogates so they can keep their figure, or career women who can’t be bothered with the inconvenience of pregnancy …. I have to believe that is VERY few and far between, if not completely unheard of. Someone is really going to go to the expense and trouble of using a surrogate because she doesn’t want stretch marks? Really? And some surrogate is going to agree to that??? Hmmm. In fact, I’ve never known any surrogate to carry for ANYONE who didn’t have a legitimate physical need. I'm not saying it NEVER happens, but in my heart of hearts, I believe that surrogacy is not a matter of convenience, but a labor of love and mutual respect.
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