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.

Yuck. THIS ISN’T ME.

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…

its…

Well…

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.
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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.

Amazing News!!!

I have a quick confession.  I am terrible at remembering things!  I mean, my husband’s birthday was yesterday and I damn near forgot to order his present (thank the heavens for Amazon Prime!!!).   Anyway, I knew my medications, both my injection of progesterone and my suppository, were running low, but I thought, “I’ve got time.” But then the day gets away from me (I blame Othello, the book I am teaching my seniors currently) and I kept forgetting to order more.

This morning, I realized as I was placing my suppository that I only had two more.  I needed my script refilled ASAP or I would miss a dose.  I would have called RIGHT THEN, but 7:00 my time is 5:00 CA time and no one would answer.  I put a reminder in my phone to call as soon as they opened.

It was right in the middle of class and I was pressed for time and put on hold.  Ugh.

I had a student take attendance for me and stepped into the hall.  Once I finally got to a person and gave her all my identifying info, she informed me that I didn’t have any more refills and the doctor would need call in another script.  WELL SHIT!?!?!

I got my students reading the play and then emailed the doctor’s office in a panic.  I was under the impression that I was to continue medications until instructed otherwise.  No one had told me to stop so CRAP!!!!  I was going to miss a dose.

Luckily, the nurse at the CA clinic immediately responded and gave me the BEST news I think I have heard all year:

MY LAST PILL, LAST INJECTION, LAST SUPPOSITORY WAS YESTERDAY!!!! 

I am free and clear to just be a normal pregnant person!

The timing of this… following those two SUPER painful injections that still have my backside throbbing… is just… well… just PERFECT.

I promptly ran across the hall to my friend, who is also a surrogate (pregnant with twins for two dads), to share the news.  She hates me now.  hahaha… She still has 3 days of shots to go and is a week and a half ahead of me!  Ha!

I would do a cartwheel if I thought I could!  Man… I’m stoked!

Emotional Mess

Yesterday sucked y’all.  (Man, I have only lived in Texas for two years and that stupid word has already crept into my vernacular.  Damn it.)

I should probably qualify the above statement.  The WHOLE day didn’t suck- just the end of it.

Let me explain.

My husband had to go out of town for work so I was single parenting it.  Not too terrible, just requires a little more planning and arrangement.  The morning was mostly normal except that I did NOT get up to do yoga (I was up too late grading papers that I STILL wasn’t able to finish) even though I set my alarm thinking that I would.   So, technically, I started the day with a failure.  Meh… shake it off.

I got myself ready, got my two babies ready (Monday after a long break… yuck), and we sat down and FaceTimed my husband to say “goodmorning!”  Since husband is usually in charge of breakfast, I decided that the babies needed donuts as a special treat before they returned to school.  Again, the morning went swimmingly.

But, my day at school was rather hectic.  Starting back up after a break is always a bit of a struggle AND we are starting Othello (I LOVE this book but kids are like, “ugh, Shakespeare!”) AND I had to leave early to make sure that I picked my son up from school since the husband was out of town.  It was Go Go Go GO GO!  But I was kicking ass and taking names!

I picked up my son, ran a few errands, and had some great mommy son time.

Then, I got home.

My mom, helping out, had picked up my daughter earlier, taken her home, fed her lunch and put her down for her nap.  As any mom knows, SCHEDULE is LIFE for kids.  Well, my mom is not one for keeping a schedule- in fact, she rarely even knows what time it is.   So, when I got home with Tucker around 4, she was only JUST getting my daughter up from nap (which means Sage did NOT go down at 1 like she should have).  If she sleeps late, she doesn’t want to go to bed on time, understandably. Ugh…

Then, I went to change her diaper, and her bottom was dirty… ugh.

Then I went to get snack ready, unload the lunch pail, clean the coffee maker, and do other kitchen upkeep.  The kitchen was a mess…ugh.

My mom, I really do love her and I know that she is doing so much to help us by watching the kids, but sometimes she makes things harder (kids off schedule, kitchen not clean… little stuff, I know, but it builds).

By dinner time (husband still isn’t home), the little stuff built to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore and I unleashed a bit on my mom.  Probably undeservedly- but at the time, I didn’t feel that way.  Fights suck… especially when you will later have to apologize for starting it.  BLEH…

Needless to say, my day had promptly gone downhill (at my doing) and by the time my husband got home to read bedtime stories to the babies, I was ready to lay on my bed and CRY… hard, body heaving, tears.  Not exactly the return home I had planned for my husband.  Sorry dear.

Babies in bed, fighting tears, we went into normal bedtime routine- brush teeth, take ALL the meds, prepare for a shot in the backside.  As I rolled over, my husband noticed this:

I knew that the shot yesterday hurt (the one my neighbor, the nurse, had to give me since my husband was gone and I am NOT the badass that some surrogates are- I CAN NOT give it to myself). But I had no idea that it had left such a mark.

Tears started welling…

Then, my husband tried to find a spot on the opposite side that wasn’t tender to the touch and proceeded to give me my evening meds.  IT HURT LIKE HELL!  I, luckily, do not have the oil progesterone; mine is in ethanol.  So I think what happened is that the medicine started coming back up and burned as alcohol does on a cut (even if it is just the size of a pinhole). Anyway, most painful shot ever!  I screamed in pain it burned so much.  Crazy.

ALL the emotions of the evening erupted from my body and I ugly, snotty, sobbed for a good 5 minutes.  My poor, poor husband felt terrible.

Once I was calm I was able to explain to him that it had very little to do with the pain of the shot and more to do with the failure that was my day.  I felt better after releasing some of the crazy.  Though I still felt like crying a little.

Then, by about 9:30, I was dead asleep.

Bad news- I have to figure out a way to apologize to my mom.

Good News- I am definitely pregnant: a tired and emotional mess.

Edited to add- here’s the damage last nights shot caused: (sorry for my ass— but I’m usually brutally honest so I figure I should share- you can see exactly where the swelling happened and can see that my underwear, which normally don’t dig in, currently are pretty terribly 😩) (also- just FYI, out of nearly 100 progesterone shots, literally- I’m not exaggerating, these last two have been the most brutal. They NORMALLY aren’t bad at all. They create a knot in my backside and it’s sometimes itchy and bruised feeling, but it is NOT that bad. At least for me. All that to say, for those of you IVF people or potential IVF people or potential surrogates out there, they’re not something to be scared about- NORMALLY!)

Filling in the Past Two Weeks

I am a high school English teacher.  This year I am teaching seniors AP Literature and Composition.  That second word there… lord help me.  They write.  All. The. Time.  They have to.  It’s part of the class title.  PLUS, they need all the friggin’ practice they can get.

Some of you may not realize this, but most teachers who have a full work load teach any where from 5-7 classes with 25-30 kids in each one.  I have 6 classes.  Which means that I have 175 students.  That means, that on essay day, I have 175 essays to grade.  Early on in the year, I spend about 5 minutes per essay.  I don’t do math, but my handy dandy calculator tells me that is approximately 14 and a half hours of grading for ONE essay.  Call me a glutton for punishment, but I make my students write at least 2 analysis papers (these are completed in class and are graded like a rough draft) and then one polished paper where they get to spend time on them and edit them (even though many of them choose not to *eyeroll*) every 6 weeks.  Again, I am no mathematician, but that’s 525 papers to grade IN ADDITION to all the practice stuff we do in class or the other assignments I dole out.  That’s about 44 hours of grading EVERY SIX WEEKS.

Man- I think I was better off not know that.  Yuck. 

So- the last couple of weeks that’s what I spend my free time (if it can really be called that) doing.  And, as mentioned in a previous post, I don’t really have all that much free time to begin with.  I have to use my planning period and often my lunch in addition to the time at home carefully to get these damn things graded, with feedback, and handed back to the kids in a timely fashion.  I also try desperately not to let it hinder my family time too much.  But inevitably it does occasionally.

ALL THAT to say that finding the extra time to blog has been a challenge.

But, for any one out there interested, or any future surrogate/IP, I figure I should share some of the challenges we’ve faced so that you can be “fully informed” of potential issues that could arise on your journey.

For instance, now that we are finally pregnant (YAY!!!), we are officially in uncharted territory.  My husband and I have never done this before and must rely on the wording in the contract on how to proceed.

The contract, of course, dictates what I can and can not eat (no alcohol, no deli meat unless heated, etc.) which is all normal pregnancy stuff and is NOT a problem for me.

It also states that I shouldn’t carry or lift anything over 15-20 lbs.  THAT is tough because my daughter (who is not quite 2) weighs over 25 lbs (SHE’S HUGE Y’all!) and my son is almost 4 so he’s well over that restriction.  NOT holding my kids is tough. Really tough.  I love them and the time of being able to toss them in the air and give them piggy back rides, or just scoop them up and squeeze them is nearing an end.  It’s precious time that I am losing and that makes me want to tear up a little just writing (perhaps I am having symptoms of pregnancy after all???).

Another thing that recently occurred that was a bit tough for me is the travel restrictions.  Our contract states that after a certain week (somewhere around 25 weeks or 28… I can’t recall specifically right this second) we will not be allowed to leave TX.  That of course is much later in pregnancy.  EARLY pregnancy it just states that, once there is a confirmation of heartbeat, we must ask for approval to leave the state from the IP’s, the RE’s office, and the agency.  When we first went over the contract, that didn’t seem that daunting, in fact, I was thankful my husband re-read the contract or I would have completely forgotten.

So, Thanksgiving is next week.  Also, my husband had a work opportunity in FL and we thought it would be nice to drop the kids off with Grandma, hop a plane, and then enjoy a weekend kid free!  Then, return to Oklahoma and spend the rest of the break with family there, eating all the turkey.

So we had a plan.  We contacted the IP’s first (I mean, they are the most important ones!) and let them know what we were thinking.  IM’s most immediate concern was ZIKA but we had done our research and WOULD have NEVER even risked it if that was a threat (even a small one). So she and her husband gave their nod of approval.  That was a Friday.

Then, the following Monday, I sent the email that stated our plans for travel seeking approval from the agency and the CA RE’s Clinic.  I copied the mom on the email just so everyone was in the loop.  Agency said OKAY! with the stipulation that the clinic had to give the nod before we should officially buy tickets, rent car, etc.

About an hour later, the clinic also gave the go ahead!  Yipee!!!  A weekend getaway!  I was getting excited.

Monday night we booked everything.

Then, Tuesday morning, a string of messages flooded our phones.  The IM had asked around and had done some reading and since I had miscarried the previous embryo what she was reading made her nervous.  UGH… I was deflated.  And frankly a bit angry.  I wanted the get away.  I wanted that trip and now it wasn’t going to happen.

I was also afraid that it would prevent ALL our travel for the Holiday and missing Jesse’s mom’s turkey and table settings and family visiting was enough to make me start crying in rage.

Jesse, my loving, gentle, respectful husband, promptly responded to her concerned messages with grace and ease.  He would cancel everything (EVEN though we had all the approval we needed) and didn’t want them to worry.  He handled it like a pro.  I sure do love him.

I, however, needed a bit more time.  Which, again, he tactfully understood.  He let me vent for a bit and then, when he felt the time was right, helped me put things into perspective.

These people are putting ALL their trust in us.
These people have NO real control of what we do with their baby.
These people rely on us to prevent any threat (real or perceived) to their child.
These people have spent a lot of money to make sure this happens, and heaven forbid something go wrong… we would feel terrible!

Ultimately, he’s right and I kind of hate him for it.  But, if the tables were turned, and someone was carrying my child for me, I would hope that they would listen and respect my wishes and politely do as I ask them/her to.

So, all’s well that ends well.  I am over it and, frankly, feel childish and selfish for ever even being upset about it.  I am reminded again of the awesomeness that is this pregnancy, the trust these people are forced to have in me/us, and the amazing people my IP’s are.  I can respect their wishes and do as they ask me to.

I contemplated not even posting this little hiccup, but feel it’s important to be fully honest about the struggles for other’s who may be going through something similar… OR those individuals in the future who are contemplating being a surrogate or potential IP’s  who require surrogates.

So, to sum it up, I think it’s important to have a good, trusting, respectful relationship with your IP’s (or if the tables are turned and you are an IP- pick someone you trust and respect). It’s that relationship that you are developing and working on and it is so crucial to a healthy end goal!

PS- we are still driving to OK to spend the holiday with family- it was just the flying that made IM nervous. So bring on the Turkey!

Still 4dpt5dt Round 2

If you are unaware- there is an entire underworld on the interwebs that is dedicated solely to the POAS addiction, y’all.

I’d list the websites but for anyone that has been trying to have a baby (the majority of my audience I suspect) it is probably not necessary because you are already aware. And for those of you that aren’t, I don’t want to expose you to that world because- kind of like in the Matrix, Morpheus states that once you swallow that pill “there is no turning back” and it’ll show you just “how deep the rabbit-hole goes.” (Don’t you judge me… I used to teach it in conjunction to teaching 1984)

Anyway- I found these websites back when I first started learning about my body and ovulation and all things conception and uterus and I can now say that I know too much. I blame my Type A personality. 

I know that for many women they just decide one day, “hummm? I think I want a baby” and so they just have sex and BOOM it happens. And that’s awesome for them. 

But then there are many women that try that and keep trying and then start worrying. And reading. That was me. I didn’t get pregnant right away (though I did not truly have to struggle like so many women I know) and in my panic I decided to arm myself with knowledge. 

And, while it is awesome to know my body so well, it also sucked the fun out of the baby making process AND I fell into the aforementioned rabbit-hole. 

All THAT to say that my seedy POAS addict friends on the interwebs who are professional pee stick analyzers say that there is something on this damn test: 


Don’t worry if you don’t see it. The untrained (i.e. Not crazy person) eye might not. For instance, my husband looked at it and said, “no. Nope, not even a speck.” (He has a penis- what the hell does he know about pregnancy!?! Nothing!) 

But- if I’m crazy at least I know I’m not alone. 

TRANSFER DAY round 2 part I

So, yesterday morning I was a bit of a mess. Nervous to say the least. I never sleep well the night before travel, the “what ifs” get to me (what if I forget this, what if I don’t hear my alarm, what if I misplace my ID, etc.). But Saturday night there were a lot more what ifs to keep my poor tired mind racing. 

Anyway- as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I slept like shit. So, first, I was tired. 

On the first leg of the trip I figured I might help myself get my mind off the hamster wheel if I read. And it worked. No more “what ifs” bouncing around in the ole cranium and I was able to dive into teacher mode. I decided to teach my AP seniors Cather In the Rye this year but I needed to brush up since it’s been over a decade since I had read it last. 

After the first flight I was halfway and my funk had morphed from anxiousness to straight up sadness. Poor Holden. 😢

But, I appreciated the change. I can handle sad. Anxiousness over a bunch of shit I am literally in no control over is stupid.  So I could say I felt better. I talked to Jesse (since he’s also read it) as we walked through the airport and it was nice to be focusing our conversation on something besides surrogacy for a bit. 

But then, on the second flight, I finished the book. And good heavens the sadness was overwhelming. I did not remember it being such a heavy story when I read it back in the day. I mean I knew it approached some tough subjects, but I just forgot how some of those subjects manifested themselves in the storyline. Anyway, I figured it was best not to break down sobbing sandwiched inbetween my husband and a complete stranger because the cry I felt boiling up was NOT going to be a pretty one. 

I held myself together mostly well. I had one stray tear I was not able to blink away but covered it up with a yawn- important to note, I needed to NOT alert my ever so observant husband because one look of concern, or one squeeze, or one “are you okay?” would have unleashed all the stress, anxiousness, and sadness that was damed up behind the wall I had carefully constructed to protect the stranger lady sitting far to close to my left on the damn plane. 

Instead, mentally, I needed to change the subject. So I grabbed the only other reading material on the plane and started reading whatever the Southwest plane magazine is titled. Guys. I didn’t see it coming! 

That fucking magazine. 

Inside, after you get past the 549 ads, but before you get to the articles (which were happy dog stories BTW), they have a bunch of customer satisfaction blurbs. Always positive stories about how someone was just “so pleased” with Southwest’s service or flight attendants, etc. I just got blind sided. 

The first blurb was about a guy who was moving his elderly mother to come live with him. She had dementia and when it came time to deplane, she had an episode and couldn’t figure out what to do. The guy panicked but this male flight attendant stepped right up and asked the mother is she would like to dance. From there he was able to get her out of her seat, down the aisle, and into the jetway where he waltzed her up the gate. 😢 so beautiful and sweet and friggin sad. So one of those pesky tears started creeping back up and I quickly wiped it away before my eagle eyed husband saw me. 

I kept reading. 

The next story was about a lady who’s daughter had married a marine but he was out of the country serving so the mom was “her person” when it came time for the delivery of the baby. The daughter went into early labor so this first time grandma was rushing to make it there in time. A flight attendant had heard her story so when they landed, she made an announcement and requested all the passenengers stay seated so this lady could rush off the plane and make it to her grand baby’s birth.  Everyone accommodated and as this soon-to-be grandmother rushed off, she was applauded. 

Yep- THAT’s the story that did me in. First one tear- again quickly wiped away. But then another stared falling from the other eye. Again, I quickly wiped it away too but now I was running the risk of alerting my husband who would inevitably ask me that stupid question that WILL break the damn and I’ll be a sniveling idiot who will probably somehow slobber on the poor lady next to me and then Southwest will have to deal with her complaint instead of her “I love this airline” story. 

As I sat trying to mentally get control, the tears- one by one kept welling up. All the pressure behind the dam was too much and finally saw a chance for escape. And as I kept trying to nonchalantly wipe those little fuckers away, my husband turned. Damn it. 

His forehead wrinkled, the look of concern grew stronger, and then he did it. He put his arm around my shoulder and drew me in for a hug all while asking me if I was okay. 

No. No im not okay. I just read a really sad book about teenage trials and then read the sappiest of stories, AND I’M TRYING TO HELP A FAMILY HAVE A BABY AND I SCREWED IT UP LAST TIME AND IM WORRIED I’LL DO IT AGAIN AND THE PRESSURE OF ALL THAT POTENTIAL DISAPOINTMENT IS RUINING MY MENTAL STRENGTH. 

But instead, I melted into my husband and tried to stifle the sobs into his shoulder so the lady next to me wouldn’t be as startled by the craziness she accidentally sat next to. 

Eventually the sobs eased and I sat back (with my now mascara stained face) and shrugged to my completely understanding husband, who, thankfully, knows that sometimes I just need to let it out. I always feel better afterwards. There’s no need to talk about anything and nothing is technically wrong… I just needed to cry. 

I did warn you guys about that a few days ago… I knew it was coming! 

We deplaned in CA, hopped in the rental, and had a beautifully relaxing afternoon following ZERO schedule and soaking up the ever so rare ability to be spontaneous. 

It still lingers…

It’s a strange feeling.  I’m super excited to be moving forward with another transfer and I really hope that this one is successful- to the point of desperation.  But it is slightly overcast by the lingering feelings the miscarriage left in its wake.  Does that ever go away?

Everything is the same, essentially, this go round and with that there is a comfort.  I know the meds and protocols (at least superficially).  I know what to expect.  I know the sights and sounds of the room where it will all take place. I know where the hotel is located and I know where it is in relation to the clinic.  I know where my husband and I will probably eat dinner when we get there and I know where we will probably go get coffee the morning of the transfer.  I know how I will feel after.  And again, all these things bring a sense of comfort and familiarity that eases my Type A anxiety levels.

But overshadowing this comfort is a sadness that I can’t shake.  I am sad that we didn’t succeed the first time.  I am sad that I know the meds and I am not nearing the end of my shots like I should have been this week.  I am sad that I am going back to CA because we have to do it all again. I am terribly sad that because of the scheduling, the IF won’t be in the room this time (like he was last).  I’m just bummed too.  I can’t help it.

I know people that shake off miscarriages, especially early term ones like ours, and seem to be just fine after a day or so- perhaps to outside people, maybe I seemed that way.  I don’t really know.  I also know women, especially those that have suffered many reoccurring miscarriages, who don’t ever seem to be able to shake the pain.  And, frankly, I worry that I will forever be scarred by this.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am not depressed and I certainly don’t think about it constantly, but I do find myself going back to the “if only” thoughts or the “what ifs” more often than I would like.  And, to people who don’t understand surrogacy, many might think that it is silly for me to feel this way because it wasn’t even my child.  But this almost seems worse. I had two people who were counting on me and four people (my husband and I included) that were so excited— there were extended families who were also excited and the miscarriage robbed all of them of that joy.

It’s so daunting to think about.  I try not to let my thoughts spiral out of control that way very often, but the thoughts are there— always.

And today, after getting the itinerary from the agency, and the message from the IP’s that the IF isn’t going to be able to make it- my heart just hurts a bit.  It was so perfect the first go round and I hate that it didn’t work out.  I hate that he won’t be able to be there in the room this go round.

I didn’t think I would feel that way.  In fact, my husband and I were just talking, last night, about how if the IF can’t make it that it will take an element of stress out of the trip.  We can just eat a take out dinner in our PJ’s in bed at the hotel instead of having to get dressed and meet at a restaurant.  And we were discussing how it would be easier on the IP’s as well.  The IM won’t be single parenting in her husband’s absence and the IF won’t have to adjust to a terrible time change just to accommodate/entertain us. It’s just easier this way, but really, when I think about it- I’m sad.

It’ll be fine- I know it will be fine.  And everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, but I’m just a bit melancholy today.  Perhaps its the combination of it all- the events in Las Vegas, my husband going out of town for work for two days, the friggin poem I’m teaching (“An Echo Sonnet- To and Empty Page”), and the stress of gearing up for the trip.  Who knows.

I just need a sad movie and a box of tissues- then I’ll be better.

(Instead I will have to grade 170 thesis statements and 85 analysis paragraphs- but perhaps the result will be the same: lots of crying and release, then I’ll be better.)

Lining check round 2

I am excited to be moving forward and one step closer to another transfer. 

Distracting from all the excitement, however, is the planning and coordination involved this go round. It was summer last time and much easier to maneuver. This time there are kids to be dressed, breakfasts to be made, kids to be dropped off at school, and work (for me) that I’d rather not be late to! 

My appointment is at 8, but I’m going to get there early and hope it goes quickly so I don’t miss my first period class. 

My husband is doing breakfast with kids and carline at school for me so I can get to the appointment on time. 

We have chatted with the IP’s and this time, instead of the last girl embryo, they are going to go with the highest quality one. It’s a boy. This takes some of the pressure off, though I’m still a bit more nervous this go round. 

I know my angst won’t do anyone any favors, but I just hope things go smoothly. I want so badly to give these parents a healthy baby and I know they are getting anxious about timing. We all are. 
Will update later with results of scan!