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.

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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...