Surrogacy & Friendship: A Journey of Hope and Love: April 2010

Genetic Material Mama's Story

The Boring Stuff:

My name is Katy, and I am half of the genetic material. (Or the "intended parent" if you want to get brushed up on your legal/medical jargon.) I am a 29 year old Michigander. I've been married for about 7 years to a great man named Matt.

Meeting My Future Baby Mama (is that supposed to be hyphenated?):

I met Kelly when I was hired on as a stylist in a mid-level salon. Soon after we became friends. She understood my sense of humor and wasn't put off my sometimes-lack-of-tact, and she wasn't afraid to tell me when I was saying something, um, unpalatable. I enjoyed the company of her and her husband and later her two amazing children.

As I watched Kelly progress through her first pregnancy it was as if I was watching what I would be like because we were so similar in a lot of ways. She took care of herself and had a supportive husband as well (shout out to the Baby Daddy here). Though if I remember correctly, she complained a lot less than I would have. I was not present for either births but Kelly remarked that they were mostly uneventful.

The Struggle:
By the time of the birth of her second child, a girl, my husband and I were aware of our struggle to conceive. Each month was a fresh slap in the face. I always felt it was ironic that there was blood involved because the wound in my heart felt that deep. Of course, everyone around us announced the expectancy of their own baby and it hurt terribly every time. Then the guilt followed for not being fully happy for them.

In June (I am uncertain of the year exactly, 2005 or 2006?), a few days before I was going to call the specialist, I had a late period which was not unusual for me but I took a test and it was positive. It was in the morning after I showered and in my towel I sank to the floor. I was stunned. The lines were bright and tears poured from my eyes. I heard my husband stir for his own morning routine and quickly pulled myself together. I hid the test. I wanted to tell him in some special way - not while in the back of his mind he was thinking he had to poop. I got ready in record time and left the house with my hair still wet and pee stick in hand. I could hardly stand it. I felt as though I was going to burst! Later I did burst but in a decidedly different way.

Maybe 3 weeks later I took another test. I'm not certain why. I think I wanted to see those lines pulsing at me like a neon sign again. This time there was only one line. The Control Line they call it. I called the doctor immediately and they drew blood and did a urine test, both were negative. They had told me not only was it negative, but I was never pregnant. It was a false positive. "But the stick said positive!" I shouted and thrust it at her. I had brought it with me. It was proof damn it! The stick lied. My mind whirled. How could it lie? It's job is truth. It's chemicals for Christ sake! It's science. It's fact. It is or it isn't. Not a lie. But science is apparently a fickle bitch when relied upon. I left the office in tears and dry heaved while holding onto my car.

My husband and I spent the next few days crying every whip-stitch. We had not done the wait-until-the-first-trimester-is-over-to-tell-everyone thing. Everyone close to us knew our story and struggle. We were too excited to hold back. I felt guilty for that. I felt that that lying stick had made me a liar too. I was utterly embarrassed and felt like a real fool.

Welcome To Infertility. Here is Your Complimentary Bag of New Shit to Deal With (oh, and tissues):

We went through the whole variety of tests, the most interesting being the Post Coital test. There really is nothing like scheduled sex to really heighten the romance. Then, you get to walk into the doctors office right after feeling like you have FORNICATOR written on your forehead. I was surprised at this point that they didn't ask, "So how was it". *TMI Alert* So they get us settled in the room and I, uh, assume the position and they check how many of his soldiers made it across the terrain, which is to say, next to none. In this procedure they were to check my cervical fluid, which apparently is supposed to be the consistency of egg whites. The nurse laughs and says, "well, I can already tell you this is not going to work for you. It's like rubber cement." Usually they analyze it, but that was just redundant after this.

We continued on to IUI's (Inter Uterine Insemination) and then to IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) and then to FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer). The IUI's weren't so bad but the IVF and FET's were fraught with emotion and failure. Between the injections and other medications it was impossible not to have the experience run our life. Every thing was timed. We had to plan our days around our injections or pills. I had to leave work early or receive injections in the car. We had to find out what the policy was on bringing needles into a concert. My husband gave me almost all the injections. I knew it was hard for him to inflict pain on me each time. I could see it in his eyes. The injections left bruises and left me sore at the injection site. It wasn't pure hell but it was extremely difficult.

That's me! The oven!

My name is Kelly and I am the gestational carrier-to-be. I really hate that name. Surrogate is even a little weird to me. I don't know what the right name/term is - but I'm sure I'll find it before this is all over. Or maybe not. Who am I? Why am I doing this?

I am 32 years old, married to the love of my life (who also happens to be the best man and husband that has ever been), and a mom of two beautiful amazing children. My son is 5 and my daughter is 4, and yes, I am the genetic parent and gestational carrier for each of them. That is exactly why I am here.

My husband and I are living our fairy tale and while we may do things the hard way, everything has worked out exactly as we have wanted and hoped for. Even the unplanned, unseen things have been welcomed, life changing and defining moments for our family. We have much to be grateful for, try not to take anything for granted, and we live for today.

When we decided we were ready to start a family we were both lucky and blessed. We were pregnant on the first try with each child and we had no complications throughout either pregnancy. Prior to starting to try I had an appointment with my OB/GYN to have my IUD removed, discuss getting pregnant and start prenatals. During my pelvic, prior to removing the IUD, my doc remarked "You've got great hips! Oh, ya, you were made for having babies."

I have never forgotten that. If I have been given this body that handles pregnancy so well, why wouldn't I be a part of this opportunity to help our friends? By no means was this decision taken lightly by me or my husband. If he were not 100% supportive we would not be here. Obviously having kids the ages we do makes the decision more complicated and delicate. After much consideration and debate we decided that we could not withhold what we could potentially offer. This is not a sacrifice to me. This just is. Beyond the complicated facade it is very simple: We have these amazing, beautiful, ridiculously funny and loving friends who we know would do anything for us. So their oven's broken. No problem! They can borrow ours!

Friday, April 16

Just one of those days

Today I had to run some simple errands- the beauty supply store, Cost-Co and Meijer. Easy enough. But, in fact, it was not simple enough. Today was just one of those days. The kind of days that only someone who has experienced the brutality of infertility can understand. It was pregnant woman's day out. Everywhere I looked, bulging bellies and infants in there snug little carriers. You couldn't swing a wine bottle with out smacking someone, or mutter a really decent explicative with out a mother-to-be covering their stomach and giving me a dirty look. (My favorite on these days is Fucking Fornicators)

Of course under all this stress a movie-style panic attack bat at me like those tiny baby fists. As my head was swirling and my heart was pounding, I headed straight for the liquor aisle. It's not what you think. It's a safe zone. A baby free zone. (However being surrounded by glass in this state isn't a great idea, but the pillow aisle was too far away- and I think they frown upon people scream into pillows that you have not intention of buying) I stayed there for a while resting. I tried to que up calming music on my ipod, and when that didn't work, I went to angry music- good screw you! music. I decided since I was already in the aisle I'd grab some possibly necessary bottles and then get the hell out of there. I charged my way through the rest of the store, sporting what must have been a great snarling look because most people had the sense to part like the frickin' Red Sea.

After I got into my car, I rested my head on the steering wheel, bawling. Then, I did what every self sufficient adult does, I called my mommy. I cried and bitched my way back to sanity. (Thanks for listening Ma) These days are par for the course in the bleak wold of infertility. It wasn't the first and I'm certain it won't be the last.

Thursday, April 15

Tick-tock

So, this past Monday we had our Mock ET and Sonohystogram. It seemed to go really well. It was great to go through this with Kelly. I actually laughed, truly laughed, during the appointment. I thought it went really well.

A schedule was tentatively set for the end-ish of May. I like having a plan and time frame. It seems to help me keep the priories straight, you know? This next, then that. It allows for an illusion of control and who doesn't love that?

The next step will be a few days after Kelly's next cycle starts. Days later she'll start the meds, a series of shots, vag suppositories and pills followed by 2 or 3 days of ultrasounds and E2's (estrogen testing). The end date won't be scheduled until the last minute. So...take a deep breath and let's go!

Sunday, April 11

"Oh boy. What did we just do?"

That was thought after finding out that my husband and I were pregnant with #2. Mind you, we were trying and we thought we'd have 3 kids so why would this be the thought that entered my mind? Here's my rationale: with our first pregnancy we were stupid. All we knew was we wanted a family so we started trying. As soon as you start trying all you focus on (by 'you' I mean the woman because I'm sure the man is just focusing on the next time he can fertilize the field) is finding out if you're pregnant. Because we nailed it the first time there weren't too many emotions to deal with, opportunity for doubt or second guessing. My famous quote/philosophy about marriage, pregnancy, birthing, and raising kids is simply: You don't know until you know; you may think you know - but you don't know. There are only 2 types of reactions to that statement, 1) you're laughing, you get it and you know I'm right...you can think of all the things people said to you about marriage, pregnancy, and kids that you kind of blew off or thought you were sooooo smart and it wouldn't be that way for you and then it was! 2) you have a 'ya right lady' look on your face because you're soooo smart and it won't be that way for you. To that I simply and smugly say: just wait.

Movin' down the line

So Friday I spoke to Christine, our Donor Coordinator, at length about where we are. I feel really lucky to have her being the one to do the hand holding here. She really knows her stuff and is very personable. She calms me and excepts my humor that often is inappropriate. It's very exciting and nerve wracking how fast all of this will move after Monday's appointment. So much so fast. I'm almost glad that it's going to be as fast as it is. The waiting can be excruciating, especially when you involve a third party. I am getting a little panicky about the whole thing but I think that's normal- so many emotions at one time, and having no control. It's stress, but exciting stress. I'll let you all know how Monday's appointment goes as soon as I can.

Friday, April 9

MOCK (not like mocking, but like practice)

So Monday is the next big step. I'm getting kind of nervous actually. I A very weird situation in which I don't have a precedent for how I'm supposed to feel, act, or react. So, I'm just trying to go with the flow and take it one day at a time. It's all just so odd, will it ever feel normal? I doubt it but that's okay. The process is a gift in its self, not to mention the miracle Kelly and Ben are offering us even if it doesn't work.

The other part of me is getting ansty in the pantsy. I'm excited. I know each step so well now that I feel like I can offer Kelly the appropriate support with the coordinating procedure. Monday isn't really a difficult thing. It's a practice run basically. They figure out all the tools (the size of the catheter use to transfer the egg etc) to use so they can, ah, jump right in there (?) on the day of the embryo transfer. They also perform what's called a Sonohystogram. It sounds much more scary than it is. It is just an ultrasound with a full bladder to get a really good picture of the cervix. It's just uncomfortable because you really, really have to pee.

I feel like I should be bringing Kelly something to entertain her during the procedure. I could read her a book, or maybe bring her a muffin basket? I wonder if she likes lemon poppy seed or prefers blueberry. Sorry, I digress, so things start to really get moving after Monday's appointment. Maybe a hot beverage? No, she'll already have to pee. I can't really give her a gift 'cause that's illegal. Who makes gift giving illegal? I get people sometime over do it, sorry Kelly, I can't afford to buy you a car but thanks for the baby!

Monday, April 5

Dear Kelly

Dear Kelly,

I love you, I miss you, are you menstruating yet?

Thanks, Bye