GC
Originally written October 2016
We hired a gestational carrier.
She is one of the sweetest women I have ever met and has three beautiful children of her own. She also carried twins for a couple before us. She is textbook selfless and has agreed to try and do the job that I can't: carry our son to birth.
It would be a total lie to tell you that I gracefully and thankfully walked into this new journey.
After the last miscarriage, I went into a dark place...as dark was when I lost my Dad.
All I wanted to do was work out, eat carbs, work on odd/random jobs around the house, and travel...far, far away to beautiful places that made me forget everything and everyone. I didn't want to talk to or hang out with any of my friends. I quit social media for months (and you know I love social media more than most people), blaming the political sh-t storm. I made sure that every bit of energy I had went into making Alex's life normal and happy. If he was getting every bit of good energy I had, there wasn't much left for anyone else.
I wasn't sad all day, but I was sad every day and wanted to disappear...like witness protection disappear...with a new identity and everything.
After seriously pleading my case to V for about a month straight, that we move far away from Texas, I finally pulled myself together.
When we finally decided to try a GC, since clearly my uterus is as hospitable as Chernobyl, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I never really have.
I met our GC at the mall one July afternoon. She had just had her initial appointment with my infertility doctor and was on her way back to her hometown, 5 hours away.
I wanted to come off as nice and normal...even grateful, like I was totally into this 100%.
We talked a little about our families and made small talk with her children who tagged along our lunch. Five minutes into our lunch, I didn't want to talk surrogacy at all. I no longer wanted to even do surrogacy.
She had to eventually start the conversation by asking if V or I had any requests of things she shouldn't eat or drink if she she were to become pregnant with our child. I had never thought of that before. I mean, you read the books and know what you can and cannot eat/drink, but every pregnant woman is different on what they believe is good/bad for their pregnancy. She was wondering what she would crave and how she would feel compared to her other 4 pregnancies...
I caught myself wanting to tell her that when I was pregnant, I craved Asian food like crazy...noodles, Pho, curries...I fell asleep around 7 PM every night no matter what I was trying to do because I was so tired...I never threw up, but felt sick every night after dinner like clockwork...I would have worked out and never touched coffee, tea or soda just because those were my regular habits...I began to feel the bloat of my lower stomach as we approached the end of the first trimester...the kind that doesn't really show, but you can feel it...I made a secret baby board on Pinterest and began mentally preparing to battle V over names...
But I stopped myself.
Because then I also remembered that as that story progressed, it would have included the blinding joy we felt when we heard our baby's heartbeat and saw the flicker on the screen for the first time and how scared we were, but how excited we were to almost be out of the first trimester...like, maybe just maybe, this will work out for us!
Then how the last sonogram of that first pregnancy showed a still, dark circle. How I knew what had happened before my doctor had time to change his demeanor and give the bad news. How I had to wait and finally, painfully (so painful!!!), pass years of hope, prayers, and wishes with the help of one, single pill a few days before New Years Day, 2015. I chose a day when V was working and Alex was with Grandma so I could be completely alone.
How I made it to page 153 in the Your Pregnancy week by week!!! It's still bookmarked and unmoved on the bookshelf I kept it hidden on, an unintentional memorial representing failure and hopelessness.
How I would get pregnant multiple times after that, but not nearly as long...
I mean, the only thing that separates me from other mothers is about 28 weeks and birthing a baby. So close yet so, so, so incredibly far away.
Concentrating on the rest of my meeting with our GC that afternoon was difficult. I was suddenly filled with doubt again, like maybe I still needed to think things through...again.
I cried to V that night after our meeting that I wasn't sure if a GC was the answer. I wanted, desperately, to continue to try on my own, even though I knew I would probably fail. Later, I remembered what I had been telling myself all along, but didn't want to believe...I have no control over any of this. I still willed myself to find control even when I knew I never would and now I have to accept that I really, really don't. Give it up to God, for real, woman...or really to anyone...just give up the idea of control.
But I know I never will.
We hired a gestational carrier.
She is one of the sweetest women I have ever met and has three beautiful children of her own. She also carried twins for a couple before us. She is textbook selfless and has agreed to try and do the job that I can't: carry our son to birth.
It would be a total lie to tell you that I gracefully and thankfully walked into this new journey.
After the last miscarriage, I went into a dark place...as dark was when I lost my Dad.
All I wanted to do was work out, eat carbs, work on odd/random jobs around the house, and travel...far, far away to beautiful places that made me forget everything and everyone. I didn't want to talk to or hang out with any of my friends. I quit social media for months (and you know I love social media more than most people), blaming the political sh-t storm. I made sure that every bit of energy I had went into making Alex's life normal and happy. If he was getting every bit of good energy I had, there wasn't much left for anyone else.
I wasn't sad all day, but I was sad every day and wanted to disappear...like witness protection disappear...with a new identity and everything.
After seriously pleading my case to V for about a month straight, that we move far away from Texas, I finally pulled myself together.
When we finally decided to try a GC, since clearly my uterus is as hospitable as Chernobyl, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I never really have.
I met our GC at the mall one July afternoon. She had just had her initial appointment with my infertility doctor and was on her way back to her hometown, 5 hours away.
I wanted to come off as nice and normal...even grateful, like I was totally into this 100%.
We talked a little about our families and made small talk with her children who tagged along our lunch. Five minutes into our lunch, I didn't want to talk surrogacy at all. I no longer wanted to even do surrogacy.
She had to eventually start the conversation by asking if V or I had any requests of things she shouldn't eat or drink if she she were to become pregnant with our child. I had never thought of that before. I mean, you read the books and know what you can and cannot eat/drink, but every pregnant woman is different on what they believe is good/bad for their pregnancy. She was wondering what she would crave and how she would feel compared to her other 4 pregnancies...
I caught myself wanting to tell her that when I was pregnant, I craved Asian food like crazy...noodles, Pho, curries...I fell asleep around 7 PM every night no matter what I was trying to do because I was so tired...I never threw up, but felt sick every night after dinner like clockwork...I would have worked out and never touched coffee, tea or soda just because those were my regular habits...I began to feel the bloat of my lower stomach as we approached the end of the first trimester...the kind that doesn't really show, but you can feel it...I made a secret baby board on Pinterest and began mentally preparing to battle V over names...
But I stopped myself.
Because then I also remembered that as that story progressed, it would have included the blinding joy we felt when we heard our baby's heartbeat and saw the flicker on the screen for the first time and how scared we were, but how excited we were to almost be out of the first trimester...like, maybe just maybe, this will work out for us!
Then how the last sonogram of that first pregnancy showed a still, dark circle. How I knew what had happened before my doctor had time to change his demeanor and give the bad news. How I had to wait and finally, painfully (so painful!!!), pass years of hope, prayers, and wishes with the help of one, single pill a few days before New Years Day, 2015. I chose a day when V was working and Alex was with Grandma so I could be completely alone.
How I made it to page 153 in the Your Pregnancy week by week!!! It's still bookmarked and unmoved on the bookshelf I kept it hidden on, an unintentional memorial representing failure and hopelessness.
How I would get pregnant multiple times after that, but not nearly as long...
I mean, the only thing that separates me from other mothers is about 28 weeks and birthing a baby. So close yet so, so, so incredibly far away.
Concentrating on the rest of my meeting with our GC that afternoon was difficult. I was suddenly filled with doubt again, like maybe I still needed to think things through...again.
I cried to V that night after our meeting that I wasn't sure if a GC was the answer. I wanted, desperately, to continue to try on my own, even though I knew I would probably fail. Later, I remembered what I had been telling myself all along, but didn't want to believe...I have no control over any of this. I still willed myself to find control even when I knew I never would and now I have to accept that I really, really don't. Give it up to God, for real, woman...or really to anyone...just give up the idea of control.
But I know I never will.
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