T minus 11 days

We matched. Again. It happened a few weeks ago, we had a lovely phone conversation with an expectant mother in Utah and she picked us to become the parents to her baby boy. She's dilated to 2 and they can see the baby's head upon an exam. If she doesn't deliver early, an induction date is scheduled for April 20, 2010 at 7:30 a.m.

It's a boy, and failed match #1 was a girl, of course. The pink (and there was a lot of it) has been packed away. I'm not quite sure for what purpose as I'm constantly reminding everyone (myself?) that we're only doing this once. I only have the strength, the finances, and the desire to ride this roller coaster once. And, hell, it's not even over yet so we might still be in for another ride along the tracks and we don't even know it yet. My efforts to be positive are productive but my instinct to remain realistic trumps all. I refer to him as "the baby", but everyone else refers to him by name. This causes me to add "don't share the name before the baby is born" to my list of "things to do differently next time", even as I promise there will never be a next time. There hasn't even been a "this time".

He's being born in Utah, which means we have to fly to Utah for the birth and stay in Utah until we are cleared through ICPC (fancy name for a government agency that approves the adoption and allows us to leave the state of Utah and return to Michigan), this process usually takes 7-14 business days. Dh won't stay in Utah the whole time, he plans to return home to work so that he can take more time off when baby & I get home. I'm thrilled and nervous about the alone time I'll have with the baby. Mostly thrilled, until I realize there will be an actual baby there, and then I'm nervous.

We're ready. Almost. We have an excellent supply of clothing, thanks to friends and family who have donated to our baby boy cause. The nursery is set up, complete with gorgeous blue bedding and the softest chenille blanket I could find (which is ridiculous because I have a half dozen halo sleepers because we don't plan to use blankets for a while). Packing for an infant, who has yet to be born, to stay in a hotel for 2-3 weeks is quite a task for an almostmommy. I'm hopeful I didn't complete fail though, he does have diapers, wipes, clothes, pacifiers, and a cooler waiting to be packed with donor milk.

The donor milk is because my body, once again, failed at what it should be doing naturally. I tried, for 9 weeks, to induce lactation. I pumped around the clock, ate oatmeal for breakfast, took my herbs, increased my domperidone to 120 mg a day, and never saw a single drop. We were blessed to receive a few hundred ounces through a wonderful donor in Ohio and we'll take her milk with us to Utah. We're still desperate for a milk donor though, as the milk we have will only last 2 weeks or so. Our baby has been exposed to unhealthy toxins in utero and I want to give him the best start in life as possible and I know that's only possible through breastmilk.

11 days and counting...

Why I ate oreos for breakfast

...and, really, the worst part about eating oreos for breakfast on Sunday morning was that I just *just* purchased them from our local equivalent of Whole Foods. I had a variety of yummy and healthy options available, but instead I paid over $5.00 for a package of oreos. I did manage to stop myself after I devoured the first row.

A few weeks ago...

We discover, after an 11 month match with our surrogate, that her insurance added a surrogacy exclusion effective 1-1-10. We were crushed. The next day, I call a friend, who refers us to the adoption agency that she used to adopt her 2 beautiful boys. Within 24 hours, we were matched with a birthmom who lives 5 minutes away.

We met her, her boyfriend, and their daughter. We attended the doctor's visits, heard our baby's heartbeat, and felt her kick. The birthmom and the facilitator in California decided to devise a plan so that H (the birthmom) could make money off of this adoption. She will be flying to California to deliver. Because the adoption laws for interstate adoptions (ICPC) would never approve of 2 couples coming to CA to circumvent the laws of the state we both live in, it was recommended to H that she select a CA family. We are again, devastated.

Our homestudy is now complete, so we're leaning toward pursuing adoption (again). We actually have our profile being shown to several situations (hopefully) this week. If anything, it is in the hands of the adoption agency and hopefully is getting some visibility.

My heart is so broken. We're so angry that we were so hopeful and allowed ourselves to trust that this *must* be the baby that we were meant to have. All the failure, all the heartache, all the disappointment....it was all because of *this* baby. But, no, it was all for more heartache, more disappointment, and no baby.

I just want my arms to be filled. I want the dozens and dozens of baby girl outfits to disappear. I want to see a color other than pink. I want to erase the feeling of her kicking my hand or the sweet sound of her heart beating.

We will move on. We will pick up the pieces, once I can find them all, and put ourselves back together again. We will become parents. We will find the resources, the money, the woman who will make it happen. We will prevail.

I can feel it

God is working out His plan. I'm not entirely sure of it all yet, but I can feel Him working. He's very busy. I have hope.

Hope is more than a word--it's a state of being. It's a firm belief that even if you don't know how, even if you don't know when, God will come through and better days are ahead. Life brings rain...Hope dances in the puddles until the sun comes out again.

The problem with having a "Plan A"

is that it implies it will fail and there must be a Plan B. We would never introduce our current spouses as "my first husband", as if to imply there will be a second. I'm not sure what Plan A ever was...I suppose it was get married, have lots of sex, and one of those times will make a baby. Obviously that's been pushed aside for more exciting plans that have involved attorneys, dozens of doctors, injections, contracts, and lots of additional participants. It's almost as if I forget all the plans we've once had in place, until I'm forced to recall the magnitude of devastation that we've endured in our efforts to become parents.

(Un)fortunately, I had a hysterectomy before my dh & I ever started dating. Only 3 months after we had been engaged we were strongly encouraged to pursue surrogacy if we ever wanted to produce a child using my genetics. We cancelled our perfectly orchestrated Cinderella wedding and packed up the car for a roadtrip to Chicago to meet with the surrogacy agency. It was shortly before egg retrieval that our cycle was cancelled with no hope of trying again due to my very unhealthy ovaries. This was followed by two adoptions situations that were presented to us that failed for a variety of reasons, a lot of marital heartache, and the conclusion to pursue traditional surrogacy. This is the simplified version, of course. And now, Plan (Insert Letter of the Alphabet Here) has also failed. After previous confirmation that M's insurance would cover surrogacy, a final "check" today confirmed that it will indeed not cover her.

Financially, we are not prepared to take the risks of insurance claims being denied or purchasing an additional insurance policy for M. So, for now, we are unsure how a baby will make itself into our arms. We need time to digest, pray, and consider our options (again).

March Madness

I'm not sure I can even explain our rationale, except to know that we've been reminded that what we want most in life is a baby to love, and so we have moved up our date for insems to March. Just two short months away! For the first time, I can almost feel what it might be like to be expecting a miracle. If God blesses us in our first attempt (which I'm praying he does), we'll be pregnant for Mother's Day and my birthday this year! And, I would have spent the last Christmas without a baby in my arms!

I spoke to the clinic today and they provided us with the lists of testing and preparations for M. She's begining to track her cycles and I ordered her plenty of OPK's that will be delivered to her home this week. I have an appointment tomorrow with an insurance representative to discuss life insurance and short-term disability for M. She also has an appointment next week with her OB for a pap smear and surrogacy discussion.

On to the task of ordering sperm. It seems so surreal, so strange, and completely uncomfortable to be online looking for semen samples. The clinic that will do our ICI has suggested a sperm bank that is local to them. I am off to examine their samples and see if anything catches my eye...if sperm every does catch one's eye.

Would you rather?

It was the perfect New Year's Eve, relatively speaking. Since labor day dh has been remodeling our basement. It was completely gutted, new walls were built, a new bathroom, a gorgeous bar complete with a kegerator (all for him as I'm allergic to beer), gorgeous fluffy semi-shag carpeting perfect for our little one to crawl on (we even bought the thickest padding so it would be extra soft), and gorgeous tile. It's a perfect space for us and although there is still some work to be done, it was largely complete the morning of New Year's Eve.

Our home has been a major construction zone for months and as often as I've tried to keep it clean, the layers of drywall dust and random construction debris have been unavoidable. I was thrilled to be able to wash my hardwood floors without piles of materials in my way. It felt quite liberating to finally begin to unpack the boxes in the spare bedroom (aka the future baby's room). I made dozens of snacks, wore my comfy pj's pants, and we settled in on our new sofas in our new basement. My bff came over for the evening and we hung out and chatted while my dh played his PS3 that he's been neglecting for months. I had purchased a game from Target on Black Friday called "Would You Rather?", it was on sale for $5 and the lady in front of me in line said it was a fun game. If it was horrible, all I would lose is $5, right? Wrong.

It's a horrible game and I'm quite certain that they'll be releasing a new edition by next Black Friday. "Would You Rather: The Infertility Edition".

The game is a collection of questions that present a seemingly impossible choice: Would you rather be in an ocean, 15 yards away from a shark coming toward you or snowshoeing (who does that?) 15 yards from a grizzly bear coming toward you? Would you rather always cry when you should laugh and laugh when you should cry, or lose the ability to do either? The game seems innocent enough and for the majority of the people who have never had to make impossible decisions, it's probably a delightful game for a fun-filled evening of a reality that I will never know. Instead, it was a horrible game that we had to stop playing because I couldn't relax enough to enjoy any of the questions. I actually could recall, in that moment, the miserable feeling when I have been faced with the difficult 'would you rather' choices. For anyone who has experienced infertility or baby-loss, the premise of the game is all too familiar.

Would you rather try another experimental drug that will make you feel miserable, force you to gain weight, and you'll lose your eyesight or have a hysterectomy right now? I tried the drug, and the next drug, and the next drug from the time I was 10 until my hysterectomy when I was 22. I did gain 20 lbs, I have the stretch marks to prove it, and I did lose a large amount of my eyesight, I have the glasses to prove it.

Would you rather risk your savings (or lack thereof) for a 2% chance that an IVF cycle will succeed (and your ovaries can only sustain 1 cycle) or risk never having a biological child? We will never have the biological child.

Would you rather adopt or pursue surrogacy, both options would result in a child not genetically related to you? We're happily pursuing surrogacy. The 'impossible' part of this question comes from the enormous price tag that's associated with surrogacy, after an already enormous price tag we've already paid to still not be parents.

Would you rather divorce your husband who isn't ready to ttc and make a baby on your own or wait until he's ready to ttc and hope you'll be the family you've always dreamed of? Well, we still haven't officially ttc, but according to dh's wishes and M's cycle, it looks like we will be at the end of May 2010. We're still married, I'm madly in love, but baby-stress is a constant barrier in our marriage.

The questions are endless, the game is horrific. I pray, truly pray, that the remainder of our "would you rather" questions in our life can come from a board game and not our reality.

Ground Rules

The NY was arrogant enough (which I suppose you can be if you are the NY Times) to write yet another article on surrogacy. The title: (are you ready? It's a good one)....

Building a baby, With Few Ground Rules

So I immediately went to my dictionary just to confirm I wasn't misunderstanding the definition of 'few'. Perhaps there was a hidden meaning that meant we didn't need doctors, lawyers, surrogates, donor sperm, contracts, life insurance policies, debt, and the ten's of thousands of dollars that created it. Perhaps that defined the 'few'.

The most painful part of the article, which features a horrid bitch named Lachelle who took back the 2 children she birthed through a donor sperm & donor egg surrogacy, was that this is occurring in my backyard. Not literally, but almost. Just miles away, the intended parents sat in their empty home much as I am doing now. They had hope, just as I am trying to have now. The walls in their home probably didn't have a single child's fingerprint on them (as the neighbor mentioned to me today how nice it must be to not have children touching my freshly painted walls). Their home was too quiet, the bank accounts too small, and their fears too overwhelming. But, just as I, they proceeded down a path that requires trust when we have no strength left to trust. The bar was set higher and so they jumped higher. They trusted. They spent everything they had and gave every bit of themselves to another one. And that bitch stole their babies.

Somewhere along the path of infertility I've realized that anger doesn't feel quite as bad as sadness. If I'm angry, it can be at somebody instead of sadness which is mine to own. It's too painful to be sad for Amy & Scott, so instead I'm furious at their surrogate. Amy & Scott, I'm sorry you trusted and were deceived. I'm sorry you spent more than you had and are left childless. I'm sorry you're on the TV in so many homes right now because Lachelle went to the media. I'm so sorry.

The few ground rules that the NY times article refers to is the lack of laws that support or defend one's rights in a surrogacy agreement. I agree. It's actual bullshit that such an arrangement is deemed to be illegal in my state but can be done for international couples if you take a jet plane to California. Perhaps they should make an island for all of us infertile couples to live on and we should have a new constitution and a set of Senators that actually work through the summer so they can craft laws that will entitle us to become parents. Until then, we proceed in the only way we can. We turn to sperm and egg donors, surrogates, doctors, accupunture, herbal supplements, and anything that offers even a false promise of making us parents. When the government would like to work more than 6 months out of the year, when judges are willing to enforce the intent of a contract, and when doctors and attorneys can get us pregnant without making us broke, then perhaps we can build a baby with even fewer ground rules.

Next

M and her dh went Christmas shopping this past weekend to a large shopping area near their home. They stopped at an outlet mall that I'm assuming she'd never been to before and she sent me a text sharing her excitement about the selection of baby and maternity stores and that she and I will have to go there next summer. Next summer. I'm sitting in my office as I type this watching the first snow flurries hit the cold Michigan ground. The next time I sit outside on a hot summer night, the next time we unpack the patio furniture, the next time we swim in the neighbor's pool, the next time we light fireworks, the next summer will be the summer we've been waiting for.

Our basement remodel has transitioned from a mess of electrical wiring, insulation, and drywall dust to a space that is about to become livable, comforting, and warm. The paint is going on the walls today and the 'man's bar' is in full construction mode. The bathroom has been tiled and carpet installation is scheduled for December 23rd. It's bizarre the connection that I'm able to make between this project and our baby. My dh has done most of this work himself but we are contracting out some of the specific projects, one of those is the man bar. I'm literally in awe how these men are able to transform the piles of wood into such a beautiful structure. I went downstairs yesterday to check on their project and was struck at the talent that was evident in my basement. I was so thankful for their excellent work and felt compelled to tell them that they weren't just building any bar, but the bar that is in the space that we will rock our baby to sleep, change his diaper, and perhaps even the space where he will learn to walk. This isn't just any bar! I resisted my urge to share those thoughts with them, but continued thinking them still.

Dh has made a single decision thus far in our surrogacy journey and that is: He doesn't want to know the gender of the baby. Yep. I'm not sure if he's forgotten he married a type A, can't remember that I plan everything about 3 years in advance, or simply enjoys the idea of torturing me...but whatever the reason, he's certain he doesn't want to know. I'm actually quickly warming up to the idea of the surprise.

We've gained a month!

2 friends announced their pregnancies yesterday, which sent me spiraling into a baby rage-depression. After the crying, screaming, swearing, and snot filled sobbing had subsided, dh suggested that we move our big ttc date from July to June. It wasn't quite the January that I had been begging for, but after so many childless years, I will take what I can get! So, June it is. Around midnight I sent a text to M to share the exciting news & June works perfectly for her and her dh. They are ready and waiting on us so I'm sure a month sooner is a welcomed change.

June is 205 days away! I've planned vacations with a longer countdown than 205 days! I can do this. I can wait 205 days after waiting this long. I can do this...

I'm terrified

I've tried to convince myself that I'm not terrified, but it hasn't worked. I'm completely scared that M's little angel's health situation is going to mean that M can't be make our dreams come true. Perhaps that sounds selfish, and in so many ways it is, but I can't help but feel that my dream is in limbo, it's existence is now uncertain.

There was an odd sense of confidence when I finally realized that we'll do doing traditional surrogacy with donor sperm. As sad as I am that my dh or I cannot contribute to the creation of our future baby, I was also certain that as long as my medical conditions weren't involved in the making of a baby, it would be a success! The less needed I was in baby-making, the more productive it was going to be (or it is going to be, I'm still not sure what tense to use. Hence the terror). This moment, of the life-shaking fear that M must be feeling as her little one is ill, is the first that I've realized that we are truly dependent on 2 individuals to make us parents. I've always understood that intellectually, but it is the first emotional grasp that I've had on that concept. If something happens in M's life that needs her complete attention, surrogacy obviously cannot be her priority. I wouldn't want it to be her priority. I want more than anything for the doctors to call and tell her it's all been a mistake. Every test, xray, cat scan, and diagnosis have been wrong...and S is completely healthy. I don't want S to be ill and I don't want M to have to be under the stress of having so much medical uncertainty.

But I don't walk in M's shoes, I walk in my own, and I stand here shaking in my boots that there is yet another obstacle to jump over before I can hold my baby in my arms. Perhaps it's the lack of faith that I have in medicine, which is obviously founded in my own failed attempts to heal and exist for just a day as a normal, healthy, woman. Perhaps it's the fear that if it can stop me from being a mom, it will. Or, it may be the reminder that I truly have no control over my own parental destiny (or any destiny for that matter). I get it God. Aren't we done with the life lessons yet?

It's been quite a while since I've had the emotional breakdown that I'm having now. So far, I'm successful at drying the tears before my husband gets home, clearing my voice before I answer the phone, and smiling when I feel like screaming. I want to know why. Why do any little kids need to ever be sick? (Hailey, you are in my prayers always) Why any parents ever need to know the fear of losing their child? (Maria, your in my daily thoughts) and why God needs to continue to threaten my motherhood? I'm pretty certain that a hysterectomy, menopause at 26, male infertility, and every woman I know under the age of 35 being pregnant is enough of a reminder that motherhood is going to be tough to come by.

Is this what happens when you have hope? It's not over, I know I'm overreacting a bit, but this is opening a wound that has not yet healed.

I really am crazy

Tuesday night I began having hallucinations. I didn't know that's what they were until my doctor used that term, but I described them to dh as "a nightmare I couldn't wake up from". It was horrible. Afterward, I was exhausted and felt like I was drunk. Driving was a challenge and I couldn't work at all. All I could do was sleep (which is odd because I normally can never sleep). I'm relieved and frustrated to discover that a medication that has been given to me to help hot flashes has caused this. Effexor XR, which is primarily used for anxiety and depression, has been shown to reduce hot flashes. A few months ago I was put on it when they reduced my estrogen as a result of the ichemic colitis (the thought is that the hormones are causing blood clots which are causing the ischemic colitis). I had a very rough time going on the medicine and it's been hell taking it everyday, but I keep telling myself that it will eventually get better. Obviously it won't. Going off the medication is apparently as risky as remaining on it, so I have slowly began a system of weaning myself off of it. It was one of the scariest moments in my life so I hope to get off of this soon and get this out of my system. It's an extremely frustrating choice to decide which of the two shitty quality of lives I should live with, but clearly having hallucinations (along with every other horrible side effect of this medicine) isn't a reasonable option.

So yesterday I was living with the side effects of a miserable night of panic when I heard from M. Her youngest daughter, S, was very ill a few weeks ago with suspected H1N1. They ran some tests and a Cat Scan which showed thymus fullness with associated enlarged lymph nodes. Subsequent blood work was ran and the results came back on yesterday which indicated her LDH levels were elevated. The enlarged lymph nodes, thymus fullness, and elevated levels all indicated that something was obviously wrong and the chief concern was lymphoma (i.e. cancer). She was sent to Children's hospital for testing today. Thank God, her levels have began to decrease. We still don't have all the answers, but it is possible that it is/was a severe systemic infection. The levels decreasing seem to take the "c" word out of the picture. Thank. God.

Of course, the health of this little girl was the primary thought on my mind. Cancer and children are two words that shouldn't be spoken in the same sentence. It should never be. Once my mind began to wander away from the sole realization that this little girl may be very ill, I realized the implications this may have. My heart stopped. While M could be starting the fight of her life, I'll still be struggling with how to resolve mine. I've known about the joys of having such a connection to another family, but I had not considered the terror of having such a interconnectedness with them.

As naive as it may seem, it never occurred to me that M's life circumstances could stop my dreams from coming true. My motherhood is so dependent on her, I felt terrified for her daughter but just slightly less terrified for myself. I called my husband right away and we talked and prayed for S. And in almost the same time it took for me to realize it, my dh's heart skipped a beat. He realized, also, what this could mean for us. He said, "I'm so sorry honey, but let's just take this one day at a time." The story of my life. It's been years of taking things one day at a time and all of these days added together still have not produced a baby. My days begin and end with the comfort of knowing that in 238 days (give or take a day based on M's ovulation), all of this will be worth the wait. The tears, the medication, the pain, the rocky marriage, the tens of thousands of dollars, the fear, the loss...it will all be worth it. What if that 238 days turns into another year or two? I should know that I will survive, I should have confidence that God will carry me through the wait as He always has, but yet I looked for shelter and wanted to hide away from the thought that my dreams might be in limbo. I can't handle limbo any longer. This temporary moment of uncertainly has been an unwelcome reminder that I have no control over my ability to become a mom. I need to completely surrender to the rest of the world; allow the universe to align itself, and then perhaps it might allow me the honor of motherhood. Meanwhile, some teenagers are getting knocked up after drinking too much Boone's Farm last night. Why don't the planets need to align for them? Why do they get that control over their own destinies?

I will continue to pray, both for S and for myself. For her health and for my sanity. For her strength and mine. For M's dream to be healthy and for mine to come to fruition. I will pray for understanding; why one ever needs to fear that her child might have cancer. And why one ever needs to fear that she may never be a mom.

Dream #2....check

Oprah was amazing. It was the single greatest day of my life thus far. I have officially checked Dream #2 off of my dreams-to-do list. (I never wanted to get married, so that isn't anywhere on my dream list, in case you were wondering where that fit in). Dream #1 is now 8 months away from its begining...

It's going to be a wonderful year, 2010 is the Year of Hope in our home. We don't have any big New Years Eve plans, but in our home with just dh & I, we will be celebrating for all the miracles yet to come in 2010. I cannot wait for the new year!

Heartbroken

I'm so incredibly sad it's tough to even type about it. A very dear friend adopted their second baby in May. The birthfather knew about the pregnancy for the entire duration and chose not to participate. They were required to wait 60 days post-birth for it to be completely clear. On the 59th day he decided he wanted to assert his rights. It's been a court battle since then and they just had a hearing. The 18 year old birthdad showed up...with his mom. (You f*cking loser!), he wants full custody. He explained to the court that he's fit to be a parent because as long as he stays living with his mom he can afford to make child support. Excuse me? And, ladies and gentlemen, here is our legal system at it's best.

Dream Big

Thanks to a myriad of medical bullshit, I was home early from work today and had a chance to veg on the sofa and catch up on Oprah reruns. A recent episode featured a variety of individuals who had achieved the semi-classical fairytale from rags to riches. One such individual is now the lead singer of Journey, apparently the 80's band had their lead singer leave them a decade ago and they found this new guy thanks to YouTube. He was stricken with poverty and living in the Philippines but thanks to his internet video he is now performing in front of thousands and making millions. Oprah asked him if he ever dreamt of achieving such success, his reply? He never dreamed that big, he simply wanted to escape poverty. While his response was a fleeting a moment within an hour long show, I couldn't ignore the tinge my heart felt when I heard his response. In so many ways, he allowed himself to settle. He was capable of (apparently) being a lead singer in a popular American band and his standard to exceed was to simply climb out of poverty.

If I could sit back and imagine my greatest dreams, considering all the reality I live within, an intimate and connected surrogacy journey is my biggest wish. Had we proceeded with parenthood a year or two ago, when I was literally on my knees in hysterics begging my husband for a baby, we would have traveled down the more traditional infertility path toward adoption. Surely, we would love our baby and my heart would be aching less than it is today because it would already be filled with the joys of motherhood. I wonder though if there are parts of my heart that can only be healed through surrogacy.

We have the divine blessing of a surrogate who is willing to make us parents from her biological connection, and with the help of a sperm donor, our child will have no genetic connection to either of us. Adoption is definitely a logical choice, but it doesn't complete my soul in the way I expect surrogacy will. As often as I dream about the precious moments with my newborn I also dream of the precious moments during the pregnancy. I wonder how I will be able to stay away from M for more than a few days at a time, how much I'll want to be near her to be near the baby. I want to spend time with M's kid's so that one day in the future as they encounter people who may have adverse opinions toward their mother's choice to be a surrogate, they can remember me and remember the happiness and joy that their family brought to ours. I want to hear the heartbeat every moment I can. I keep having this random baby fantasy that M is pregnant during Christmas time and I wake up Christmas morning to a phone call from her in which she plays our baby's heartbeat for us. There is nothing greater that could be under the Christmas tree.

In an odd sort of way, I'm proud of my dh & I for allowing ourselves to dream big. To not settling for what is less than we are capable of. For reaching out, to join together with another family for a lifelong journey together, and strive everyday to give back in the greatest ways possible. Dream big? I just have.

Door Handles

Our basement remodel project (AKA: my extreme nesting renovation) is going well, despite a very chaotic weekend. We had no water, hot water heater, or furnace all day Saturday or Sunday. Thankfully, my very patient and loving husband had it all fixed by Sunday evening with much progress made in the basement. It's amazing how every decision we're making for this project involves "the baby".

Last night we went to Home Depot to pick out door handles for the doors that he'll be installing. We stood in the isle examining all the options and having a discussion about which doors should have locks on them. We decided that all the doors would be without any locking functions except the bathroom door. It's completely ridiculous as I look back on our discussion, standing in home depot, not expecting a baby anytime soon and discussing how we don't want our child to be able to lock himself in any of the rooms in the basement. The problems with that conversation are endless...we don't have a baby, we aren't expecting a baby, even if we have a baby next year it won't be walking or able to open a door. In theory, we purchased door handles in anticipation of our non-existent child being safe and unable to lock himself in a room in the basement.

*****

We leave this week for our magical vacation to Disney World. It may very well be the last Disney trip we take as a couple. Although, my dh is convinced that we should go again in May before we start ttc. I certainly cannot argue against a Disney vacation! It's always such an emotional time going to Disney together. I absolutely love Disney, it's a true passion of mine, but seeing all the children and all the families always reminds me of the empty place in my heart. I will do my best to fill it with pixie dust, Mickey ears, and sunshine.

*****

Doctors have me on a new medication and insurance classifies it as a "contraceptive" so it's a wonderful $120 per month. That's more than our cell phone bill, our car insurance, or our water bill per month. I called the insurance company to clarify how they could possibly charge me, sans uterus, for a contraceptive. I knew I wouldn't win the argument but it's still a fight worth fighting. Abortions, Viagra, and pregnancy are covered but apparently medication for a 26 year old going through menopause defies all rational understanding from the insurance company.

Is the black cloud lifting?

Since I was cursed with a period at 10 years old, I've had a black cloud of infertility following me everywhere. It was my shadow at every doctor's visit, surrogacy agency, adoption agency, conversation with my dh about baby making, it was even there on my wedding day. There are days now that I'm convinced the black cloud is still following close-by. I see the images of all my pregnant friends/relatives/neighbors in the reflection of the cloud.

When we met M, I thought just for a second that perhaps the cloud was lifting. Perhaps, despite the years of it's seemingly eternal attachment, it was learning to adjust to separating from me. I had her, this beautiful woman who had agreed to be our angel. There surely isn't a black cloud in site. And then we returned to reality and the cloud joined us. He was there during all the poor semen analysis and urologist appointments. He stayed by my side as I fought, screamed, and cried with my husband as we realized we'd need both a surrogate and a sperm donor to become parents. I've been fearful that this cloud would follow my entire path to parenthood but it seems I've found it's weakness: M. The cloud wasn't around when M was around and today M emailed to say that her new insurance does not have a surrogacy exclusion! It's almost surreal to consider that it's happening so easily, without a cloud in site.

*****

In 9 months, we'll be pregnant. I'm quite amused that the countdown has now reached a point in which it equals the gestational period. It's a wonderful way for me to find happiness as I wait for the greatest journey of my life. Too many people in my life are pregnant right now and soon they will be having their babies. And for those 9 months that I knew of their pregnancy, it is that length of time until I can declare our own pregnancy. Just 9 months. And, once I wait these 9 months, I will only have to wait that duration one more time until I hold the greatest miracle in my arms. I will bring my baby to my breast to nourish him the way a mother does. I will look into the eyes of the other miracle in the room and wonder how I will ever be able to thank her for changing the world through her selflessness and empathy to create a life that she will allow me to nurture and love for eternity. I promise, M, that I will work so hard every moment to be the best mother that I can be...not only because my child deserves that, but because it is truly the only way to show you our genuine thanks for all you have done.

Anything but a nursery

As part of my chronic, compulsive "nesting" disorder and my husband's desire to expand our livable space, we've decided to remodel our basement. Our old basement was finished, but probably in the 1970's and the people who did it were so lazy that they paneled right over all the windows, leaving us with a definite feeling that we were living in a cave. Our basement didn't get much use, except for all the wonderful space that we could store everything. Now, that everything has been moved throughout the house as we have emptied almost everything from the basement.


We had a contractor lined up to do the work and then he decided to never call me back for several days, when I had important questions about the work he was to start in a few days. I followed Oprah's advice to "Believe people when they show you who they are the first time", and I knew it would be unlikely that he would be urgently returning my phone calls once he had my money in his pocket, so I fired him. Over email. I actually preferred to do it over the phone, but he never answered my calls. So, blackberry to blackberry and it was done. This occurred after the basement was already emptied and my dh was giddy with anticipation of having a beautiful new basement. Dh decided that he wanted to construct this basement himself and had me imagine how wonderful it will be that he works with his own two hands to create the space that we will soon call our "family" room. I couldn't resist the warmth in my heart as I imagined us, in our new living space that was created by my own husband, as we glowed with joy as friends and family came to see our baby. I imagined exactly where the baby swing would go and thought it would only be appropriate to also have a bassinet downstairs for the little one to rest in for those short periods of time that he's not in my arms.


We've decided to carpet half the basement and install pergo in the other half. The true purpose for the pergo is so I won't kill one of my dh's friends if he spills a beer on my new shag carpet. However, dh has convinced me that the pergo will be the ideal spot for the "kid's table" during holiday's so our children, nieces, and nephews won't make a mess of our new carpet. He knows that I cannot resist any suggestion that involves our future family. He's even convinced me that we should pre-wire the bar to have a flat panel television. Although this seems quite similar to what a sports bar would have, he's suggested that it would be for the children to watch TV during a big game. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to put a DVD in for the kid's while the adults are watching a football game on the big TV? Interesting how he's also thrown in a "big TV" into his plot.



We have a three bedroom home, the third bedroom has two entry doors that have been removed and we use it as an office. A bookshelf stretches almost the entire length and height of the wall to hold my dozens of books about how to make a baby, obviously none of them proved to be very successful. The second bedroom is the 'nursery', although I can't hardly bring myself to refer to it as such, but it's always the label that I mentally assign to it. It usually contains a double bed, small vanity area where I blow dry my hair, and random articles of clothing that haven't found their place in our main closet yet. Currently, it is packed solid with Rubbermaid containers, wall hangings from the basement, the mesh bag of mis-matched socks, early Christmas gifts that I've purchased, the ironing board, along with other remnants from our basement.

Although it never functioned as a nursery before, it was always clean and organized and much easier to envision quickly becoming a nursery with just the removal of a few pieces of furniture and a fresh coat of paint. It would require so much work now to transform that space into anything appropriate for even the smallest of babies. Perhaps all the effort that would need to be exerted to make the room a nursery is a gentle reminder that there is still quite a bit of effort required before we become parents. Some days it seems so simple, we have a surrogate that we're in love with, a small amount of money going into our "baby account" every month, and a hidden container of baby items that have been purchased over the past several hopeful months. But today it seems overwhelming. Today I realize that I need an egg, and sperm; both of which we don't have. I need them to find themselves in the perfect moment of marriage and create a miracle for us. I need 9 months of uncomplicated gestation, a beautiful day of healthy birth, and an attorney, court date, and tens of thousands of dollars. It's too much to imagine sometimes. It's too much that I can't control, too much money that I don't have, and too much too risk. And then I remember, "What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?" -Anonymous

Challenges

I've really been doing well with trying to learn and absorb the lessons that infertility is teaching me. I'm slowly learning to embrace our temporary childless state (emphasis on the temporary) and learn to enjoy these moments alone with my husband. I can see now, the deliberate actions of the Universe and the perfect pattern of events that will lead to my becoming a mother at the perfect time, with the perfect surrogate, to the perfect child. Despite my aggressive attempts to intoxicate myself with all these profound lessons, the Universe doesn't shop challenging me. What more must I learn? It seems only appropriate that there should be a limit to the number of intensely difficult events that one must endure in life. While I know such a limit doesn't exist, it still takes me by surprise when I find myself facing yet another.

After my "ischemic colitis" diagnosis while we were visiting M, which lead to a hospital stay after enduring a lot of pain, blood, and misery, I've been not feeling great. Nothing too horrible but I know my body enough to understand that I haven't been normal. Over labor day weekend they did another colonoscopy and the biopsies were normal. They know what the diagnosis is, they just don't know what is causing it.

Sunday night I woke up in a lot of pain and called the doctor on-call. I explained to him my medical history and he wanted to speak directly to my doctor (who is both a clinical and research expert in my disease) before he advised me. Monday a.m. he called back to say they had me scheduled for a colonoscopy on Tuesday. I immediately had to leave work to start the glorious bowel prep. Despite the raging hemorrhoids and horrible cramps I had anyway, the bowel prep went relatively smoothly. I went to bed at 10:00 p.m., ready for the colonoscopy the next morning. I made it until midnight at which point I woke up in extremely intense pain and the immediate sensation that I was going to pass out. I woke up my dh & told him what was going on. I was afraid to move, knowing I was going to pass out, but had to get to the bathroom right away. I crawled to the bathroom, went to the bathroom, and then immediately fell off the toilet and passed out. Dh caught me (he's learning now to not let my head hit the ground) and I was out for a little bit. I awoke and all I could say was "bucket" and he ran into our office to get the garbage can. I vomited so intensely for quite a while and then passed out again. At that point, we called the dr. on call and they told us to go to the ER. Because I have to be seen at the University of Michigan, our ride to the ER was almost a full hour away. When I started to get up off the bathroom floor to go to the ER, I realized I had gone to the bathroom while I was passed out and didn't even know it. My poor husband. I changed my clothes and got in the car. We had to stop on the freeway so I could go to the bathroom again, I couldn't make it to the exit. I've heard of people doing this before, but I've never done it myself, it's quite strange to have your pants pulled down as semi-trucks are driving past you. Thankfully, I'm not shy and it was very dark with few cars on the road.

We manage to make it to U of M without any major problems, although I cannot walk on my own and my ability to function is extremely limited. I lay down on a bed in the ER immediately as the nurses are asking me questions, I tell them, "I'm going to pass out now". I'm not sure she believed me because she didn't react, but dh knows that I don't say that unless it's really going to happen. I passed out while lying completely flat on my back in bed which something that is very rare to do as your body usually passes out to force you to lay down, but I was already laying down. They had a very difficult time reviving me & ended up having to give me some injection and oxygen to get me to wake up. Thankfully, that was the last time that I passed out. They temporarily cancelled the colonoscopy because I wasn't stable enough but then rescheduled it when I started to show signs on improvement. The colonoscopy proceeded and the anesthesia didn't work at all and I was awake for the entire thing. Of course. I was then admitted to the hospital for another night and released yesterday.

I'm searching really hard to find out what I'm supposed to learn through all of this. I've watched as one-by-one my organs have been removed as one disease after another is discovered. I never imagined that such problems would continue to expand through the remaining parts of myself. I simply can't imagine that there are great lessons to be learned from a colon disease? I suppose there must be, and i just haven't found them yet.

Alone

It's amazing to me that there will be countless people involved in making me become a mother but yet I still feel so alone. I would give anything if just for one hour my dh could live in my thoughts. If he could understand how it is truly impossible to get through the hour without second-by-second reminders of infertility.

I was speaking to someone on the phone in the surrogacy world today and she mentioned a sperm bank that I had never heard of before. When I checked out their website I was really liking their donor selection (a lot of PhD & MD donors, a lot of them tall, which are two main factors we are looking for) until I read that they are entirely anonymous. It's been known since April or so that we will likely be needing a donor, at which time I spoke with dh about all the factors we have to consider when selecting a donor and he replied with the infamous "I'll think about it" remark. So, nearly five months later, I ask him "What do you think about using an anonymous donor?" He replies "Yea, that sounds good. Can you scratch my back?" I just looked at him, I couldn't believe any decision regarding such an important aspect of our child begins with "Yea". I scratched his back. He asked what my thoughts were & told him. If we use a donor that will allow his identity revealed upon request of our child, our child will always have that option. Selecting an anonymous donor removes that as an option forever. We should keep all options available for our child. He replied, "Oh, ok, that sounds good then."

My voice started to get louder, my patience shorter, and my words stronger. How do you just vacillate between those two options so easily? Haven't you considered these options? What exactly did you mean 5 months ago when you said that you would think about it? Was that simply a rhetorical statement meant to appease my sense of urgency? When were you planning to think about it, as M is pushing our baby out of her vagina? When our teenager is walking across the stage receiving his high school diploma? Perhaps neither of those times, perhaps you would put off thinking about it until I unilaterally make the decision which frees you from any further obligation toward that particular topic. And then, when we need to have discussions with our child about his genetic background, I'm sure you'll assume that I'll handle those discussions also because, afterall, I'm the one who decided to use a particular donor.

"What would you like me to do? I can't think like you. How do I think like you?" Ahh, perfect question my dh posed. So, I thought briefly, how does he think like me? How do I think about such things? I propose:

Divide the day into 15 minute increments. 5 minutes of those 15 are completely dedicated to thinking about a baby. It can be any variety of baby related topics. You now have 10 minutes left. A diaper commercial will come on TV, so you change the channel and the local news is talking about a potential "labor strike" at a local manufacturing plant. However, since you're me, hearing "labor" makes you think of a baby, which makes you think of M, which makes you think that you can't believe you are putting another woman in pain for your benefit. It makes you think about how you'll ever repay her. Speaking of repaying, how the hell are we going to fund this surrogacy journey? Back to the labor. We should write a birth plan now. I wonder if M knows if the hospital she's working & will deliver at is surrogacy friendly. I wonder if they'll give us our own room. We should include that in the birth plan. I wonder if both of us can stay in the room with her if we can't have our own room. What if she needs a C-section, will she still have one of those big labor rooms? Speaking of C-section, we should get M some help after the baby if she needs to have a C-section. That's enough, I'm turning the TV off. I should do laundry. I wonder if I can make my own laundry detergent that is safe for the baby, like dreft. On my way to the laundry room I walk through the office, the unsigned surrogacy contract sits inside a special folder on my desk; dozens of infertility, surrogacy, adoption, menopause books sit on the bookshelf. That can't be normal for a 26 year old. Oh, and about menopause, here comes another hot flash.

15 minutes is up. Repeat daily in 15 minute increments until you're a mother. That, my husband, is how you think like me. Now, you must devise a plan to still function as a semi-normal human being and fulfill all other adult obligations while having a brain that is incapable of thinking of any thought without somehow connecting it to our baby.

************************************************************************************

It's not him, it's me. It's not normal to be like this. Seriously, not normal. It's actually part of what is so depressing about this situation...I've turned into a person that doesn't live a normal life. Everyone is pregnant right now and that is not helping. I thought I had triumphed over the "everyone is pregnant" stage last year when both my bff and 2 SIL's were pregnant at the same time. But, it's happening again. My neighbor is pregnant with baby #2, a very close family friend is publicly discussing her readiness to begin "trying" (if she only knew the depth of that word), another family friend is pregnant, my cousin just delivered (and no one wanted to tell me she was pregnant so I found out at a family function when they said her mom couldn't make it because Erica had just delivered. Delivered what?, I asked), my bff's brother & wife are pregnant, even M's SIL is pregnant. Everyone is preparing for a baby and I'm arguing with my husband about which other man's sperm we'll use to try and make our baby with another woman's eggs. It's too much to wrap my head around at times...

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

That could be our baby's due date. Of course, it's too soon to know exactly when M will have her last period before we do insems, but, I've been playing around with the numbers and a July 2010 insem that results in a BFP could give us a due date in March 2011. It's so surreal how it feels so far away but yet so incredibly close all at once.

We have managed to tell absolutely no one, except my bff Christy (who is also our attorney that will handle the step-parent adoption & other surrogacy related matters) about our plans to pursue surrogacy. Our parents and family still feel that since my ovaries were removed we can abandoned the idea of surrogacy. My mom will occasionally mention about when "you adopt" and still asks questions about adoption. When she meets someone who has adopted their child, she tells them that he daughter will be adopting "someday" soon. I feel slightly, emphasis on the slightly, guilty to be lying by omission about our true plans for parenthood. My mom would be incredibly thrilled to know that we've met M and that we love & trust her and her wonderful family and she is going to make us parents. I'm not worried about what anyone thinks or fearful about what anyone might say. It's just that our battle to win the position of parenthood has been very public and the defeat was tough. I don't surrender easily and I was forced to surrender to this evil enemy also known as my body.

I know our families would be thrilled to wait the next year with us as we anticipate all the excitment that will come when M is pregnant. They would all want to meet her and her family immediately and express their genuine gratitude. In some ways, I would like that support and affirmation by telling everyone. But, there are so many reasons to keep it quiet. Our plans for surrogacy with M is a very personal secret between my dh and I. When we're together and my mom mentions something about adoption, we both nod in agreement but in my heart I know that we have a grander plan and that plan is private between he and I. In a strange sort of way, I feel as if this is how it's supposed to be. Most couples don't announce to their parents the date or method by which their grandchild will be conceived. Those moments are meant to be private, shared between the love of a man and a woman. This moment is still our moment, it is still the moment that our child will be conceived. It is, however, shared between 2 men and 2 women. A love that two couples have, both for their own spouses, and for each other. M would unlikely be doing a surro journey if not for the support of her dh. And I certainly wouldn't be engaging in surrogacy without the love and support of J. Two couples will be making a baby; two times the love; two times the commitment; two times the support. This most certainly will succeed!

There are specific daydreams that continually replay themselves in similar form. The most popular show seems to be that of our baby shower. I cannot stop day dreaming about the decor, the smiles on every one's faces, our adorable nieces helping with the presents. What I most daydream about that day is how I will be in front of some table, opening some gifts, while the perfect gift that God has ever given me will be seated in front of me. She'll be wearing the maternity outfit that we picked out together, as we've agreed to go shopping for maternity clothes together. She will be smiling and I'm sure at least one hand will be place atop her firm, round belly. As excited as I will be to receive dozens of onesies, thousands of diapers, and a collection of baby items that I'll probably only use for a few months; I am actually most excited for this woman and for what she has done for me. I want her to know that no matter what terrific baby gift I open at my shower, nothing compares to the gift she will be giving me very soon. I want her to know instinctively that I would give everything back. I've learned my lessons. Life is not about the "stuff", it's about the miracles, the acts of kindness, and the understanding of compassion. Those are values we must never let go. She, in all her beauty, exhibits those traits even today. Even when she's not pregnant, she is so understanding and compassionate about what women like myself must go through to become parents that her frame of reference has been forever altered. She has changed.