THE END OF D&C… or maybe?

I am exactly 23 days (just over 3 weeks) off from having the D&C and then the scary clot situation which I think was my body’s way of clearing everything out.

I just did a home pregnancy test and this was the result:

I think it’s all done. And I know my hormones are regulating as well because my chin is broken out. I’ve never been so pleased to have acne. 😂

My mood is better and my body feels better (though it never really felt BAD per-se).

Anyway- just an update- it was 3 weeks for the hormone to leave my body and I expect my period will resume in the new two/few depending on when I ovulate.


About 5 minutes later I looked at the damn test again:


Not quite gone but low enough to know that I’m nearing the end. 😕


Well damn.

We spoke to the IP’s this morning. They really are amazing people and I want nothing but the best for them, but I’m sad.

And the sadness is for a couple of reasons.

  1. I got dumped and that never feels good. AND I can totally see it from their perspective. If my doctor who has studied reproductive stuff for a career told me to switch surrogates I would follow their instruction. I mean, what they hell do I know?! This is what they do for a living.
  2. And I am pretty sure my journey as a surrogate just ended. THAT is what really makes me want to cry. Which I need to explain in more detail.

Jesse and I, back before we knew ALL the absolute shit that comes with surrogacy (I mean, let’s face it- this has been one shitty path- a great match, amazing IP’s, but the rest of it is just a totally fucking failure. I mean two failures really), thought that this would be over and done in about a year or a little over. We thought, ever so naively, that we’d get pregnant, have a breeze pregnancy, hand a precious gift to the new parents, and skip off into the sunset.

We “knew” that it could be hard and trying but, like so many other people at the start of a journey, thought that it would all work out and that it would all be fine. BUT it wasn’t.

Twice it wasn’t fine.

The hassle of finding childcare for a 3-4 day transfer trip- TWICE

The totally jacked up hormones (which were not too terrible really but now that I’ve regulated some, I know it was messing with my sex drive and that probably sucks for a husband [my keeper pregnancies had the opposite effect]) and shots in the ass- TWICE

Not to mention 2 weeks of no intercourse pre transfer and then 5 weeks of ZERO ORGASM also probably really absolutely sucked- TWICE

Then there’s the utter heartbreak and devastation and the aftermath of my total sadness that my husband had to deal with TWICE

AND the fact that ALL of that happened and now it’s over just fucking sucks ass. Fuck you end of 2017.

So, for the last year, this dream I’ve been fostering and building and cherishing and protecting and working to come to fruition has just ended. And I guess I’m just processing that.

I think a big part of me wants to try again. But is that the part of me that just doesn’t like failing? Is it really the responsible thing to do? For me? For my family? For our future?

My husband doesn’t think it is. At all. He didn’t even want to try again but was willing to from my insistence and with the qualification that it was only IF the IP’s wanted one more try. But they don’t.

And he has completely logical reasons to back up why he is done:

  • It’s a stress on our marriage (which is already tough with two kids)
  • It is an added stress on our sex life (again- TWO young kids)
  • It is restrictive (see above two and add on travel restrictions, food restrictions, exercise restrictions, and life restrictions- he’s tired of being so limited)
  • It’s dangerous (which is something we shrugged off going in to this, but the other day I passed some clots which were residual from the D&C and it scared the absolute shit out of us both. I think that was the final nail in the coffin for Jesse).
  • It’s not worth it financially, if something terrible were to go wrong (and apparently with my luck, that seems all the more likely)

There were more, but I stopped taking notes because, in true Jesse fashion, his logic trumps my emotional desire to be pregnant again so I have ZERO leverage.

So, there it is. As quickly as it started, it’s almost definitely over and I might just have to be okay with that.

But first, I want to cry about it.

Merry Day After Christmas

We had a great little Christmas here. Very relaxing in comparison to some we have had. We spent the weekend at home except for a few last minute stocking stuffers. And didn’t leave the house at all yesterday. It was terrific.

Santa brought my son a pedal bike. and brought my daughter, who loves to jump on the furniture, an indoor mini-trampoline.

We spent the whole morning gradually unwrapping presents- well, the kids did. Jesse and I just got one another a vacation and a bottle of wine. On the night we open the bottle, we have until the bottle of wine is gone to decide on a vacation and actually book it. We’ve been talking about a trip since we moved to Texas but things keep preventing it from happening (mostly surrogacy and being pregnant, which is still a bit in limbo).

After we ate lunch and put Sage down for a nap, we headed outside to let Tucker try out his new bike.

The first run down the driveway he kept his feet down, like he would on his strider. The second run he balanced with his feet on the pedals but didn’t pedal. The third run he was able to pedal a little. We were shocked.

We had this image of holding him on the bike and helping him steer and running alone side him as he learned how. We thought it would be frustrating and there would be tears and skinned knees. Instead, about 30 minutes after he hopped on, we got this:

It is amazing. Anyone with a little one should invest in a strider. The littlest bikes don’t have pedals so they just learn how to balance. Then, a year later, we got him a strider with pedals and he’s up and riding! HE’S ONLY THREE?!!! I think I was 5 or 6 when I started riding a bike without training wheels.

Sage, not to be outdone, also started showing off on her strider and keeping her feet up downhill. It’s pretty awesome.

I’m going to need a bike to be able to keep up with them. Maybe next Christmas.

We snacked around for the early evening and the kids played with new toys. After bath and PJ’s, the kids went to bed and Jesse and I fell asleep watching a show.

All in all it was a sweet day.

PS- we are also knee deep in potty training. 😬 Tucker is sleeping without a diaper and Sage is working on going to the bathroom during the day. She will sleep in a diaper until we get her out of her crib.

A friend asked why I would ruin the break with this endeavor but both kids asked to start so I can’t tell them no when they want to do it. Their interest is a big factor!

HCG levels…

I had started bleeding about 8 days after the D&C and hoped it was my cycle starting.

It was not. Body is still “pregnant.” But I was pleased to see that it isn’t quite as dark as the control line so it’s hopefully in the low 100’s. I will test again in a week.

Still no word from the agency or the IP’s which I’m beginning to think is a bad sign. Which I can handle. I just would like to know. It’s the wondering that I hate.

Oh, and my poor babies have some sort of virus. Fevers, night waking, snot, and yuck.

I’ll be honest… I’m having a pretty crummy end of the year. 😕

Limbo… again.

This time last year we learned that our friend was pursuing surrogacy to grow their family.

We offered to carry for them in a pretty spontaneous gesture that essentially sent us head on into the world of surrogacy.

In January it will have been a full year that I completed my application.

A lot of the last year had been spent waiting.

Waiting to complete the application.

Waiting to be matched.

Waiting for medical clearance.

Waiting for psychological clearance.

Waiting for contracts.

Waiting for cycles to start.

Waiting for transfers.

Waiting for blood tests.

Waiting for u/s confirmations.

Waiting for shots to end.

But this current wait has definitely been the most angst producing by far.

I’m currently waiting to hear from the IP’s on what steps they want to take next.

The day we found out that the baby’s heart had stopped the CA Clinic called and, in what felt like added insult to injury, basically warned me that they would be advising the IP’s to find another surrogate. In the same conversation, the nurse said that I shouldn’t blame myself as there is nothing I could have done. Seems contradictory to me. It’s not you… but it is you.

So, over the course of the last week I’ve googled lord knows how many times what it means that we miscarried at 11 weeks. Or if other surrogates have been through something similar. Or I’ve tried to find other IP’s who have had their surrogate fail only to be successful later. I’ve read and re-read the card that was sent with the flowers from my IP’s in hopes of deciphering which way they may be leaning. I’ve terribly overanalyzed the silence from them. Are they mad? Are the just reeling still? Should I reach out to them? Or Do they need space? I’m driving myself crazy wondering where their head and hearts are.

I want so desperately to do what I set out to do- deliver a healthy baby back into the arms of their parents and help a family grow. But, as I linger in the limbo, I have to wonder if maybe this isn’t my path.

I don’t know that I have it in me to start again and rematch and I worry that if this clinic won’t use me- will any of them? Could I even help someone else if this miscarriage and the chemical pregnancy from before is enough to have the clinic advise the parents against me?

I 100% want what’s best for these amazing IP’s. I don’t want to bring them any more heartache and disappointment than I have already caused. So if it’s best that they walk away and find someone else, I respect that decision and will hold zero resentment for them making that call. It hurts my heart to think that might be what happens, but perhaps that’s selfish of me. Just because I want to do this for someone doesn’t mean that I can. Maybe I can’t. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me to stop? Ugh. I don’t know.

Right now I’m giving them space. Though I am desperate to know what they are thinking.

I’ve written the IM 3 different letters but each time I end up deleting it. No matter how hard I try, each letter had a feeling of desperate pleading to let me be the one to try again and I don’t think that’s fair to put on them. They have hard enough decisions as it stands, they don’t need to be burdened with how their decisions will make me feel.

I do need to figure out what to say soon so I can send the package I have.

So, for now it’s more waiting.

The D&C Procedure

I should probably post that this is a potential trigger and I will not be offended if you stop reading now.  I hesitate to even post it but I would have appreciated a step by step going in so I share for the women in need of such a thing.

We were 10w6days pregnant when we found out that the heart had stopped beating. I was 11w1d when I went in for the procedure.


I had a lot of worry and angst about the procedure so I figure I will share my experience in case any women out there who, tragically, are experiencing something similar and are wondering what it will be like.

D&C stands for Dilation and Curettage.  Essentially they dilate the cervix and scoop, suction, empty the contents of the uterus.

For my OB, they wanted me to sign paperwork at their office first.  My OB would be performing the procedure and wanted to see me before hand.  I am not certain that this step is ALWAYS necessary so it may or may not be something another OB would do.  So I went to his office the day before the scheduled D&C.

I signed a paper in front of a witness that basically asked for my approval to receive a blood transfusion if necessary.  I was assured that this is VERY UNLIKELY but docs have to cover their rear’s. The waiting at the doctor’s office was pretty short and the OB answered a lot of my questions there.  The IP’s had some specific requests so I wanted to make sure the doctor was aware and he said he would do his best to respect their wishes.

From there, I was sent over to the hospital. My OB’s office shares a parking lot with the hospital so it was just a quick jaunt over for me.  I checked in at the front desk and was eventually taken back to register (which seemed stupid to me seeing as I was just there the day before doing the EXACT same thing to have the second U/S). After the paperwork was filled out, they escorted me back to the outpatient area and I was taken into a room with a very sweet nurse.

She got my weight, blood pressure, temperature etc… all the normal stuff when you go see a doctor. Then, helped me register for My Chart.  Another nurse came in to draw some blood.  I asked why they needed 4 vials and she explained that they wanted to make sure that biologically I was healthy enough to undergo the procedure. The vials decipher my blood type in case of the rare need for transfusion, Vit. D levels, white blood cell count in case of infection, etc.  Just routine stuff I was assured.

The first nurse proceeded to ask me TONS of questions.  Again, all routine health stuff.  Family history, vaccination history, recent medications, any other past surgeries… stuff like that.

Once all the history part was out of the way, she walked me through what the next day would be like.  I appreciated her a lot in this moment.  She started from the very beginning: When you drive up, park out in front where you parked today.  Then check in at the front desk, just like you did today. Tell them you are here for outpatient surgery and someone will escort you back here where you are now.  You will be put in a room that is very similar to this… same equipment on the walls, same sounds etc.  The only difference is there will be a gurney.  Your spouse will come with you for all of this.  Once you are undressed, the doctors (OB and anesthesiologist) will come and visit with you and explain their end of things.  If you have questions, they will be happy to answer.  Once they are all set up, they will come and get you to take you back.  Your husband will have to go to the waiting room.  The procedure will take about 20-30 minutes and then you will wake up in a recovery room.  You will have a nurse there with you to help make sure you are comfortable.  You might have some cramping that is similar to after birth or a really bad period.  Once you are stable and everything is alright, you will go back to the outpatient room and your husband will be brought in.  Once you can stand, go pee, and get dressed, you will be discharged. Do you have any questions?

I can’t explain how much it means to me that she was so precise.  I did ask if she knew how much it hurt or how long recovery would take.  She was very upfront and explained that it “wasn’t all that bad at all” and told me that she had to have it done a few years ago.  For her, she was “back to normal the next day.” That was a relief to hear.

She told me that my appointment was at 1:00pm and that I was to shower with a special soap the morning of and I was not to have any food or drink starting at midnight.  In complete honesty…. THIS was the hardest part of the whole thing and technically the most painful.  Hunger pains suck y’all!

The next morning we kept our normal routine (minus the yoga, I slept in) and I dropped the kids at school.  I went back to the house and decided to finish cleaning and doing laundry to help keep my mind off it all.

At 1, we checked in and things happened JUST LIKE the nurse said they would.  I got undressed, was brought a bunch of warm blankets (it was REALLY cold that day), and Jesse and I sat around and chatted for a bit.  Doctors came in, I signed another piece of paper, this time it was the hospital’s approval sheet saying I was okay with a transfusion if needed and they drew more blood to double check my blood type.  Then they put in my IV which was REALLY hard because I hadn’t had any water in over 12 hours!  I still have a bruise from where she had to put the IV up near my elbow.  Ouch.

After that, Jesse and I talked for a little longer while they got things ready in the surgery room.

And then it was time.  Jesse and I kissed and they escorted him to the waiting area and they wheeled me back into the surgery room.

There were TONS of huge lights on the ceiling and 6-8 people all dressed the exact same way, blue scrubs, face masks, paper robes, hair coverings, shoe coverings.  Each had a particular task throughout the room. Machines were all on my left shoulder by my head but were silent. I was still on the gurney and the nurse that took me back was very sweet and again explained everything.

They moved me on to the surgery table that had a bottom that would drop out.  They wanted me to position myself “kind of like I would sit on a toilet” and then lay down with my arms out in a T position.  They stuck a bunch of heart monitor pads on my chest and, since I was shaking cold, they brought in more heated blankets.  The warmth and the heaviness of them helped a lot.  They Velcro’d my arms out wide on the table and the anesthesiologist explained that in a minute he would give me some medicine that would put me to sleep and that I would wake up in the recovery room with a nurse who would take great care of me.  I didn’t see my OB come into the room, but I felt him. He was down by my feet and just after hearing the anesthesiologist say he was giving me the meds, I could feel him gently rubbing my toes.  It was a comforting gesture.  I blinked once and then again.  The third blink I struggled to open my eyes after and then I was out.

I woke up to beeping and cramping.  There was also a TERRIBLE taste in my mouth and I could smell metal.  The scent was overpowering, bleh.  The pain was VERY similar to the cramps following child birth.  Way more intense than a period but not excruciating.  I should also mention that I rarely cramp during my period anyway.  Physically, my periods aren’t rough.  I do get cranky as hell though, just ask my husband.

I was very groggy and the nurse asked how I was feeling.  She brought in another warm blanket and then checked my blood pressure and asked about the cramps.  I told her that they were pretty intense but not unbearable and she gave me some demerol.  I was in the recovery room for about 20-30 minutes and she asked me again about my cramps.  They had almost entirely disappeared.  I had a GIANT pad between my legs and the nurse checked to make sure I wasn’t bleeding too badly.  I don’t think I was bleeding at all.

She moved me into the outpatient recovery room and they put a blow up blanket on me that was filled with warm circulating air.  It was glorious.  The new nurse brought me some apple juice and my husband.  Both of which made me very happy!  From the time we checked in to the time Jesse was back with me it had been 2 hours.

Eventually the nurse helped me up and to the bathroom.  I expected to feel a gush of blood upon standing, but I didn’t.  And, when I peed, there was just a little bit of red in the toilet.  The nurse explained that I shouldn’t see much more than that for the next couple of days and to watch out for fever. I shouldn’t sign any important paper work for 24 hours and I shouldn’t pick up my kids or anything over 5-10 lbs for a week. Then, I would need to see my OB in about a week to be released for sex and to make sure all is well.

With Jesse’s help, I got dressed, and I was wheeled to the car.

We got ALL THE FOOD on the way home and after kids bedtime Jesse and I snuggled in a watched a movie.

I was 100% the next day and only wore a pantie liner… but I didn’t even spot.  I never had any more cramping and physically I was fine to go to work but decided to follow doctor’s orders and take it easy- more for my emotional state than anything.

I did consider my options very carefully before deciding on the D&C.  I was far enough along that I didn’t want to take the pill that would induce a miscarriage at home- emotionally I don’t think I could handle that.  And, I really didn’t want to wait for my body to figure it out on its own.  It took my body a week to realize the first transfer didn’t work before I started bleeding… who knows how long it would have taken to figure out the pregnancy was no longer viable.  Plus the idea of walking around pregnant but not seemed torturous to me.  The D&C, I think, was quick and virtually painless and has helped me get in a place to be physically better faster which I think has helped me emotionally as well.

So, long post over.  There’s the details.  I hope anyone reading this finds at least some comfort in knowing that it isn’t so bad and recovery time, physically, is VERY quick.

UPDATE- 3 weeks post procedure:

Alright-I’m updating just about 3 weeks post D&C. For 8 days following the procedure I had ZERO bleeding. Then, I started spotting. But it was so light I didn’t even need a panty liner as the spotting only occurred when I was going to the bathroom. I had zero cramping, but this isn’t much of a surprise because I don’t cramp on my period either.

The spotting continued for about a week but I figured that would be the case. I did pee on a pregnancy test and it was still positive so I knew my body was still dealing with it all.


Then, about 16 days after the surgery (can you call it that?!) I was standing in the kitchen and felt a gush. Not wanting to get my underwear dirty, I rushed to the toilet (the feeling was similar to postpartum bleeding so I wasn’t that startled). But, as I went pee, I felt a LOT of stuff coming out so I looked down and freaked out. I think I screamed for my husband. There was a lot of blood in the toilet and a huge clot. Before I could even call for my husband again, I passed another huge clot! And right as my husband arrived outside of the door I passed another one. THREE ENORMOUS CLOTS. my husband, having been granted entrance (we are not an open door couple), looked just as startled as I did.

I felt completely fine (no fever, no cramping, no light headedness, etc.) so we were both worried that so much came out soooo suddenly. Was I hemorrhaging?!?

This is totally disgusting, but I truly worried that I might need to go to the ER stat! So I decided that I needed to know exactly how big the clots were. I reached in and grabbed one of the clots and it was as large as the palm of my hand. 😳 oh god. (After child birth, the parting info from docs and midwifes is essentially to watch your bleeding. Big clots=bad and filling a pad every hour = bad. They essentially don’t want any clots larger than a golf ball. This ONE was the size of three golf balls and I passed 3 of them that were ALL that size!) My husband immediately called his mom (a nurse) and made me lay down and drink some water. Other than being scared, I felt 100% okay physically though I was now hyper aware and could feel the cramping that had started. He showed his mom the picture (all humility goes out the window when you’re afraid you’re dying) and she said it was worrisome but the fact that I felt fine meant that giving it a few minutes was probably okay. I went to the bathroom again and the bleeding had stopped- completely. Not even a spot. Again, feeling fine, we decided, with the advice of his mom, to take it easy the rest of the night and to monitor the situation. I’ve had a bit more spotting but since but as quickly as it happened it stopped. I will do one more update after my next cycle starts and this is all done so it will be complete.

Here is the post about HCG around 2.5 weeks out
Here is the test just over 3 weeks and about 5 days after the clot scare.

Amazing Students & Amazing friends

I was anxious headed to work today. I wasn’t sure how I would feel… what my students might say… which co-workers know what… etc. What, if any of this, might set me off crying again.

I got to my room and it was straight down to business. I got things organized for the start of the day and while doing so my friend from across the hall, the one that decided to do surrogacy with me at the same time, came in to check on me.

I didn’t want to feel it, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t look her in the eye for fear of losing my shit. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t fair. I wanted to tell her to get the fuck out of my room.

You see, she’s pregnant with surro-twins. She’s almost 13 weeks into her journey with her two intended fathers. She’s succeeding where I am failing (TWICE NOW) and a part of me is so irate about it.

And then, add on top of that rage and bitter jealousy the feeling of complete shit, dirty guilt for even thinking about being mad at her for something that is no more in her control than it is mine. I felt hot tears begin to well up in my eyes as I re-straightened my desks for the second time just to keep busy doing something so I could avoid her gaze.


I confessed to my husband and felt a bit better, but I know that my friend knew something was wrong and I would need to talk to her before the shame of my bitterness would truly melt away.

Classes went on without a hitch. I told each of them how thankful and proud I was that they did what was needed to stay on track and then picked up where they left off going over the plan for the next two weeks and introducing their final project.

My 5th period, though, I was completely overwhelmed. Just as I was getting ready to get class started, a group of girls from the period walked in with a gift basket for me.

I immediately began to ugly cry as the whole class had pitched in to buy the stuff inside and were now lining up to give me hugs. Even now as I write this the tears are falling. I can’t believe they did this for me. I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am. I’m just dumbfounded.

I’m also SO thankful that I waited to read the cards until my lunch period as the notes they wrote inside made me cry all over again. And the gift cards!?!? As if the goodie basket weren’t enough, they got me a Starbucks gift card, dinner for my husband and me, and movie rentals “so I can take it easy.” It’s just… it’s too much. I’m so… I don’t even know. I’m just blown away.

THEN… as if I hadn’t cried enough, my next class did the same damn thing!

Flowers and chocolates and lotions and comfy socks and bath salts and body scrubs and anything a girl might need to relax and pamper herself. 😭😭😭

I couldn’t even spit out a “thank you” before ugly sobs took over my body. This class is also my advisory period and we have actually talked quite a bit about the surrogacy process (and many other life topics) and I’ve answered a LOT of questions with them since we get 30 extra minutes together a couple times a week. They are outstanding kids and I am so thrilled that I have had the pleasure of their company this year.

Once we were able to get things back on track, I was interrupted again. This time with another beautiful bouquet of flowers from the English department. The outpouring of love from my students and co-workers is…



It has left me speechless. I don’t even know what to say except that I felt the love today and it means the absolute world to me.

PS- I talked to my surrogate friend and apologized profusely for my immaturity and bitterness. I tried to explain as best I could about being overcome with jealousy and tried to explain how irrational and stupid I know I was acting. She was so gracious. She, having experienced two miscarriages when having her babies, had felt the same thing with one of her friends. They had gotten pregnant together only she “got left behind” when she miscarried and she felt a similar jealous anger then. I can’t tell you all how much better that made me feel. All of this can be so isolating but reaching out to find connection has proven to be a life raft when I feel I’m drowning alone. I love this friend and appreciate her honesty and help.

Days after loss- A surrogate’s side

It’s been about 5 days.  The flowers the IP’s bought me are prettier than ever.  The blooms are amazing.

Most of the time, the distraction of my family helps keep my mind off the heartache… the guilt… the sense of failure I am feeling.

On Friday, the day after the D&C, my kids went to school as normal so I had the morning to myself.  Laying around didn’t seem like a great idea.  So I cleaned.  The house is practically spotless… as spotless as it can be when you have two kids and three dogs anyway.

I think, much like the first time, this will just linger.  The tear producing waves are much further apart than they were on day one and I assume they will gradually grow far enough apart that I will not cry at all, one day.

I was talking to another surrogate about the loss she and her IP’s experienced.  We’ve decided that this particular situation is VERY difficult.  I certainly do not want to say it is any worse than any other woman experiencing a miscarriage- that is not it at all.  There’s just a level of complication added to this that makes it so strange and hard to navigate.  If it were just miscarriage, sadly, I know many women that I can talk to about that; I have people I could commiserate with.  But the complication of losing someone else’s baby… there aren’t many women that can share that story.  There is no guide book.  There is no one to really provide any direction.

It’s also difficult for my husband.  He mentioned the toll it’s taking on him.  This is not our child, but, from what I have read, many men “recover” faster than the woman.  She was the one that experienced constant reminders of what amazing thing her body was doing (or supposed to be doing) and when the pregnancy ends, she’s the one that both physically and emotionally must recover- there are hormones that must be contended with, and emotional scars, and a feeling of failure.  I have all of those things, but I also have the concern and well-being of the IP’s that I must process.  How are they?  What can I do for them?  How might I show them that I am thinking of them without re-opening a wound they are trying to keep clean and covered?  What do I do in this terrible situation?  It’s constantly there in the back of mind, ALL of this.  And my husband just wants his happy wife and the mother of his children back.

He mentioned the other day that there have only been two times in our marriage that I have cried so hard he was worried about me.  And, both of those times were when the surrogacy pregnancies failed. I do not want to call this pain a burden, but I do think that my husband might view it that way.  And I do understand that- our family is complete, these worries amazingly didn’t plague our family… when we wanted kids, we luckily got them without ANY complications.  And now we are taking on someone else’s struggle- which we knew.  I, so naively, didn’t think any of this would happen.  I thought that I would have a transfer, get pregnant, have a pretty uneventful pregnancy, and give this family a baby.  I was so terribly, terribly, wrong.

I don’t know where this journey goes now.  And I don’t even know if I will have a part in it.  I deeply hope that I will. The desire to help a couple grow their family is still, very much, a part of my dream and my passion.  But it isn’t up to just me (there are the IP’s, my husband, my family that must also be considered).

Day after horrific news

I thought that I could make it to work today. I thought that the distraction of having to keep 175 students on target would be welcomed. My students (Seniors) are aware that I am a surrogate and have been mostly up to date with the pregnancy since I have had so many appointments (they do not know anything about the IP’s, just general- “this is not my baby” info). I figured that if I broke down telling them the tragic news they would understand and being the amazing kids they are, we’d get right down to business and the day would fly by.

Perhaps it was a terrible plan from the onset.

Perhaps it was the blog post retelling before my morning started that brought it all to the forefront.

Perhaps it was the very sweet message my best friend teacher pal sent me.

Perhaps it was the frustrating call to set up the D&C before I walked in the building.

Perhaps it was a wicked combination of all of these things, but I made it up about 3 steps before I had to retreat to the empty stairwell cave and ball my damn eyes out. The sloppy messy snotty cry where you can’t talk and your body heaves. I wanted to collapse to the ground, but knew I needed to calm myself down and gather myself.

10 deep breaths, a quick, “you got this. You are fine. Settle down.” And I made it to the third floor and to my classroom.

Kids were already waiting and one said, “are you alright? You do not look well.”

To myself: thanks assface.

Out loud I replied that I had gotten bad news and would explain. She immediately hugged me. I immediately felt bad for thinking she was an assface.

After the bell rang, I weakly gathered their attention and it was then that they all saw the wreck that is Mrs. Whitsett (I realized in this moment I probably should have stopped in the bathroom before starting class to check my make up. Oops.). I got about two thirds into the sentence, “yesterday I had a doctor appointment and we got…” tears start welling and my voice begins to quiver “terrible news.” It was here that I straight up started crying and somehow stammered out the rest: “I need to have a procedure tomorrow and will not be at school the rest of the week.”

I took a second to breathe and settle back down. It took me longer than I wanted and I struggled to fully compose myself. It was there I realized I had made a mistake. I wouldn’t make it the rest of the day and no one needs to be forced to deal with my emotional wreckage, but especially not my students.

When I was calm enough, I explained that I needed them to continue reading Othello so we wouldn’t fall behind and that I needed to get sub plans together.

The amazing kids that they are did just that. They started reading. Someone even picked up my role of reading the stage directions, without being instructed. They would stop and ask questions for clarity and they worked together as a class for the period to struggle through Shakespeare. (My heart beams with pride as I write this.)

I was able to get lesson plans squared away, notify the powers that be, and make a quiet exit from the building. I feel better knowing my kids will be fine in my absence and knowing that we will not be terribly behind on Monday when I return (finals are just around the corner).

I decided to head to the doctor’s office to fill in paperwork and then head over to the hospital to do pre-op registration and get my instructions. All of which the lady on the phone, before school, instructed me to do.

It took about two hours but everyone was so sweet and helpful and answered all of the questions I had patiently and thoroughly.

I got home around 1.

I immediately started cleaning. All the interior windows have been cleaned. The surfaces have been dusted. The rest of Christmas was put up. And I finished vacuuming before bed. Apparently nervous energy makes me need to clean.

In the middle of the cleaning frenzy, there was a knock on the door. I could see before I even opened it that it was flowers. The most amazing arrangement I believe I have ever been given. I started welling up immediately. It smells heavenly as well.

The IP’s sent them with a beautiful note and I cried all over again.

I’m not sure how to express this complicated feeling. But in an attempt, I feel awkward and inadequate. THEY ARE SUFFERING. I should be sending them flowers. Their child is gone. I didn’t send them anything. I left them with grief and sorrow. I left them with tears and dashed dreams. I left them reeling and wondering what is next.

And they sent me flowers.

What do I do? How do I handle this? How do I navigate this confusing path?

Where’s the fucking handbook?! Anyone? I’m open to suggestions— seriously. I know there are some IM’s that follow this blog, how would you hope your surrogate respond in this situation? Please guide me.

This isn’t all about me. I’ve made it that way unintentionally but want to rectify that quickly.

All of this is terrible. So utterly terrible and now, on top of it all, I feel even more awful.


I walked in to the appointment nervous but excited.

After signing in and waiting, I was called back for the ultrasound. The technician was very sweet and was perfectly okay with me calling the IM and having her on the phone if it was what I desired. So after getting undressed and situated on the table, I called the Mom. Due to the time difference I knew I’d be waking her up.

We chatted for a bit, basic conversation and waited for the technician to find the baby. He was so much bigger, we both commented.

The mom asked a question, but the technician didn’t answer and I looked to her face to see worry had replaced her smile. My heart began to race. Things went blurry.

I tried to listen to the Mom and converse with her, but the technician whispered she needed to get the doctor. I knew then it was not good news and my body began to shake uncontrollably.

We didn’t wait long, the doctor came in promptly and the technician quickly showed him her concerns.

There was no heartbeat.

The baby was measuring right on schedule, even early. We were 10w6days and the baby was measuring 11w1day. His heart had stopped very recently.

The doctor asked me to hang up and I explained to IM that I would have to call her back.

That’s when the shaking really took over. I had no control. Tears, shaking, shock.

How could this be happening to them again? What am I doing wrong? What could have possibly caused this?

I don’t really recall what happened next. I believe I called my husband and asked him to come.

I know that I called back the IM; I know she knew something was wrong and I didn’t want to leave her drifting and anxious any longer than I needed to. The doctor helped me with that phone call.

The parents asked for a second ultrasound which we all more than willingly understood. The result did not change.

They wanted a second opinion, so my doctor sent orders to the hospital nearby and my husband and I went there to appease their request. I was still shaking uncontrollably.

The technician kept asking me to be still. I think the feeling of shock was wearing off and my body was reacting to sudden decrease in adrenaline. I couldn’t prevent the shaking. My teeth were chattering.

It was, for a third time, confirmed. The baby had died.

I feel sick writing this.

I woke hoping, praying this was all some horrible nightmare and was floored again by the grief that it is not.

I can’t believe it.

I failed. Again.

I know some of you reading this will repeat what everyone else (medical professionals included) have already told me. I “did everything right” and “this isn’t your fault.” But regardless of that bullshit- I set out with a dream to help a family…

a family (like so many others) that had suffered beyond what any family should have to bear…

A family that had a desperate dream to have children…

A family that I care very much for…

I set out to bring them joy and happiness. I set out to bring them something that would never replace or eliminate the suffering, but at least make it all worth it. I set out to bring them a baby and help them grow their family and… and instead of all that… I have leveled them again with suffering and disappointment.

I have hurt them again.

This crushes me.

I have failed.