Milky. Cereal, Baby.

I'm hungry, mama!

Later this afternoon, after my discount eye exam at a box store retailer, I am going to drive down a country road near where I grew up to pick up (breathe) a hospital-grade, dual-expression, electric, breast pump from a durable medical equipment rental company.

That is way too many words. They all terrify me.

I made the decision to attempt induced lactation well before we chose our gestational surrogate. Another one of those, well if I can't do that, maybe I could do this....kind of things. She, and our health care providers (hers and mine) have been fully supportive. Curious, kind of new to the idea themselves, but total cheerleaders. For the past two months, I've been dutifully taking my pills, eating my oatmeal, stocking up on herbs for later, watching my boobs expand and grow along with my husband's eyes. Whoa.

But this week, this week right here is where the rubber hits the road, or rather, the suction cup hits the tit. And I confess, I'm nervous.

What if it doesn't work? What if it hurts? What if I just can't manage the schedule. Every three hours? Before the baby even gets here? For real?

I've already told myself all I can do is try. Stick with it. Have at it. All that. I'm not going to beat myself up if my nipples don't secrete the nectar of the gods. I've already resigned myself to that fact that most books on breastfeeding suck (ha). No, really. Save your money. They really do. It took me several attempts at various libraries to find one that didn't spend 100+ pages on why breast milk is essential to your child's health and manufacturers of formula are the devil.

Spare me, eye-rolls the imitation similac-eating, survived-just-fine grown up over here.

In the end, the only one I've liked so far is one I found nestled in my pile of boxes. This one. The edition I have is old. It still talks about car seats as an option. (can you imagine?) But it spends 2 pages, not 100, on the value of breast milk and then gets into the nitty gritty. Like, pictures. And charts, And troubleshooting tips, and best of all, it doesn't use the cooing, soothing, you just had a baby so your brain must be mush language that so much of this shit does. It doesn't assume your baby will be ok or that you will manage this just fine. There is a robust chapter on Special Moms, Special Babies. I confess, I haven't read this cover to cover yet, but I think its one I will actually use as a reference. Phew.

Because I can't do the support group thing, guys. I just can't. Not yet. Not now. Maybe never. We were at a local hospital the other day visiting M's mom who had a minor procedure and just in case all of my triggers and synapses weren't afire already, we ran into an elevator full of full-on pregnant women coming back from a tour. My knees buckled. I didn't cry (then) and I can't explain the emotion. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't anger. It was more like, aversion? At any rate, the idea of spending any amount of time in a space of new moms....I'm just not there yet (ever, maybe).

Origins

By the end of this week, I think I will have told everyone that needs to be told that BBB is on his way and PS leave me the heck alone for at least three months. My board was ecstatic and super supportive. Everyone has been. People barely bat an eyelid when I talk about surrogacy. If anything, they want to know more.

I had no idea how many IVF pioneers, trailblazers even! that I knew in my immediate circles. Somehow talking about surrogacy opens the door for people to reminisce about their own journeys, heartaches, expenses (!)

I have had more 60+ year old men tell me about the shots their wives had to take, the constant trips to the clinics, the affairs with the plastics cups (boys! stop! TMI!) than I ever would have imagined. It makes me humble.

The things we don't know.

Yesterday, I broke the news to another batch of colleagues. But it was at the end of the meeting as we were winding up. I didn't get to the surrogacy part, and figured this wasn't a group that needed to know everything. I will be absent. That's what they need to know. But then my boss goes into talking about her own adoption adventures. Because it's all about her, right? It always is.  So I think the assumption made was that we are adopting.

And I almost clarified. And then I decided. You know, its ok. In some respects, it really doesn't matter where/how our family comes into being. It just matters that it IS. Adoption, surrogacy, having "The Sex" as Dresden likes to call it....none of these processes create a son or daughter that is any less loved. In two months, he will be here. That is what matters.

This isn't to say origins don't matter. They do. Oh golly they do. But those are our conversations to have. We will never be untrue to BBB about where and how he came about. That is our pledge. Once he arrives, it will be his choice with whom and when and how he shares that information. That is our pledge. To ourselves, to each other, to our surrogate, to BBB.  The only reason I mention the surrogacy now is because:

1. It is obvious I am not pregnant. In fact, I am 30+ lbs lighter these days. Holla!
2. I usually have a glass of wine or cup of coffee in hand, so I need to stem the tsk-tsking which would occur right after I say, "we're having a baby!" 
3. I kind of like putting it out there. In everyday conversation. At least right now. And as I've mentioned, response has been awesome. 
4. I still feel like we are in the process. Therefore, the process can take precedence. It ain't over yet.  

I don't think I'm going to be that "out there" once BBB is here. Because I cringe when a certain someone I know introduces her kids as "I have two adopted kids from _____" before she even mentions their names. As an adoptee, oooh it burns me! Like the act of adopting is more important than the individuals themselves. Especially when they are standing only a few feet away. I wonder if they introduce themselves like that? "Hi, I'm ____ I was adopted from _____." Somehow, I think its doubtful. 

But am I being hypocritical? Unfair to my colleague? Is there a problem in mentioning process once the person has arrived? Is there a difference? Am I just doing the same thing? I would really love your honest assessment here. Feel free to be anonymous if you prefer. Because this discussion of origin. It ain't going away. And I would love there to be some open dialog about it here.

Dreamtime

65 more days until ETA. I can barely sleep. When I'm not dreaming of the rockstar cupcakes that apparently we are getting for The Shower, I'm dreaming of me and M and BBB spending the night in the world's worst B*st W*estern (which, in itself is hilarious since I haven't stayed in a BW since I was a kid on holiday with my thrifty parents).

In that particular dream, we had a crappy hotel room attached to the hotel lobby with a bathroom out in the hallway, also attached to the lobby. the bathroom was so tiny there was barely enough room to sit on the toilet without your knees grinding against the opposite wall, and constructed so poorly you could actually see into our room, the lobby and the game room in the basement below by peeking through the cracks in the walls and the floor.

Sidenote: do you worry when you dream about bathrooms and toilets? Do you wake up and think, oh crap, did I pee the bed? I do. (think it, not actually pee the bed. So far....)

Back to the dream: We were obviously in a hotel room since we were bringing BBB home. But instead of being a few days old infant, he had suddenly fast forwarded to fussy toddler stage, and for some reason, kept wanting to take off his diapers and walk around naked. In the hotel.

"BBB, why don't you have any pants on?"

"I don't knowwwwwwwww!!!" he would wail. Like he just found himself in that predicament and had no idea what to do about it.

"Well, how about this - why don't we put them back on?"

"Okaayyyyyyyy" he would sniff and acquiesce. And I would laugh. And M would roll his eyes and chuckle. And then we'd continue to hang out in our crappy hotel room.

At one point, BBB was pantless, again, and peed all over the bed. His little pee pee spraying everywhere. And I remember thinking, you know what? Awesome. Good. There  you go, crappy hotel room. That's our gift to you. Let's blow this joint. And we did.

And we ran to the parking lot together and laughed and laughed.

Me and M and BBB. Against the world. Or at least crappy hotels. That dream, days later, still has me in a good mood.

**
Last night, my dreams were a mix of awesome and suck. One part just had me hanging out with infant BBB, crouched over him on the floor. My hair kept hanging down and tickling his face. I was just stroking his sweet skin. I could dream that over and over again. Other parts were based on The Shower. Again. (Sorry! I've never had a shower for anything before. I never even go to them. So this whole thing is a thing of mystery and awe for me.) In one section of The Shower dream, our shower got mixed in with a Mexican wedding reception. And our cupcakes were interspersed with Mexican taco stands and actual venders selling the most awesome fried awesomeness.

I kept thinking. Oh gosh, I hope no one notices. We definitely got the better end of this deal. I brought over a cupcake to one of the vendors that had just fried me up something spectacular when M wasn't looking.

In another part of the same shower dream, there was a lot of suck. M's dad called from the car to tell me that he and one of his lawyer friends looked over the parentage paperwork that our attorney prepared and found this and this and this wrong with it and as a result weren't really sure whether BBB was legally ours or not...Cue me screaming, yelling, crying, hanging up, but not before saying, you couldn't wait 2 hours to tell me this? You had to tell me minutes before I walk into a room of people to celebrate our family? WTF you guys? 

So, the excitement. It's not without a little anxiety.

65 more days, y'all. 65 more days....Can you stand it? I can't stand it. 

the best GC in the world is doing great. She reports BBB is head down and still squirming. For the record, the running streak streaks on. 193 days strong, albeit some limited mileage these days. Damn you winter. Bring on the spring. Bring on BBB.

Spilling Beans

There. I've done it. With 78 days to go and M's reluctant ok, I've finally spilled the beans. I've managed to find a space to talk with each of my co-workers, and this email went out last night to friends and family who didn't already know:

Dear friends,

The last time I used this list it was to share the painful news of the loss of our daughters, Isobel and Jovita. Four years later, we still feel their absence every day.

But this year, I am overjoyed to tell you that we are expecting the birth of our son in just two and a half months! Big baby ____ is due March 31, 2013. Yes, we've taken a while to spill the beans....

As most of you know, our journey towards a family has been long, and anything but straightforward. We have a wonderful woman named _____ and her supportive family to thank for this gift. She is our gestational carrier (aka surrogate) and has been doing a rock solid job so far. We are really so happy to have _____, her husband and her own four children as part of our extended family now.

We’ll be traveling out to the Midwest in about two months for the birth, and then bringing BB_ home. We can’t wait for you to meet him.

Thank you for all of the love and patience you have given us. Thank you for your friendship as we struggled with our grief, and found happiness in our lives again. We are so excited to share this next piece of the journey with you.

Love,

m. and M.

So my inbox is a pretty steady stream of "OMG!!"s" and "Holy Shit!!!s this morning, along with some very sweet remarks about what kind of parents people think we will be. It's kind of fun.

Now, I'm not done yet, I still haven't gotten the word out to colleagues and volunteers I connect and work with, but most of them weren't really around for the long haul. I don't feel the same kind of obligation to them. They'll figure it out soon enough.

So, phew. That's done. And it is a nice weight removed. An elephant exposed. Look! There it is! Now we can talk about it!Baby! On the way! That's what we've been up to. That's what's new.

Now we just need to figure out how to assemble the crib. Gasp.

Everybody's Doing It....

...What do you think they're doing in the next room?

Or at least all over the internets. 

Yes, friends, its the end of another year so its time for the annual round up. What went down, what sucked (dad is gone) what didn't (BBB is nearly here) and all things in between, all in a handy month by month guide:

January - I was a quite the social butterfly, adding a FB and twitter feed to the blog, participating in a robust book club discussion (and then some), and taking part in Dresden's fantastic "In times like these" series.

February marked five years in the blogosphere for me, got us just a little closer to sealing the surrogacy deal (but not without some stops and starts) and saw me playing a pretty personal card in the discussion around choice.

March introduced us to our gestational carrier live and direct. Her hubby too. And we knew, pretty immediately, that this was, more importantly, they were the right choice.

April - foreshadowing dreams, cleaning house and getting fit, oh yeah and my birthday.

May was a tough one. It feels like this whole month was spent working on our surrogacy contract. Everyone was right. Hardest part of the journey. To date.

June - I wrote, but not so much here, I kvetched about dad and his kvetching, and we really and truly signed and sealed the surrogacy deal.

July - the Test is positive. The Streak begins. (drops mic).

August - wow. The end of this month sucked so hard I almost forgot to include it in the round up. Luckily, a fantastic few days with Paz in an unlikely setting helped round it out.

September said goodbye to dad. Sigh.

October - Sandy storms on through. The Streak continues. Big baby keeps on a-growing.

November - shit gets real. As in ultrasounds and belly pics and a trip to see big baby BOY halfway across the country (also to test out the road trip in store for us in March). And I got rid of those f*cking boxes.

December - this month, we've been without our daughters for four years. Four. Jesus. This month, our BBB reached viability, and keeps growing and growing....And before you know it, we'll have some shopping to do. Or at least borrowing.

Added bonus: my first athletic achievement. Ever. (no hyperbole) I won my age bracket in a 5K while on a pre-Xmas trip to see mom. And didn't even realize it until later that night. Thankfully, they didn't give what is now one of my favorite ornaments on the tree away.

By the time you read this, BBB will be 27 weeks and 1 day along (and we still haven't told most friends and acquaintances). The Streak will be 169 days strong, even with a Christmas gift of the stomach flu. And I will be getting ready to kick everyone's ass in the most epic Rock-N-Bowl throw down ever tonight. Look out.

Hey 2013, I can't wait till you and me hook up.

Where I Use the Passive Voice, a lot

It's the night before the Night Before Xmas. The world didn't end, but it is a bit sadder these days. The wrapping is done. Gift exchanges have started. I got these. Whoa.

Parties are being attended (and we are realizing we have a disproportionate number of friends with December birthdays). Cookies were baked. More will be baked. Soups were made. More will be made. There are still two more days until Santa comes (and the gifts that I purchased for M from the UK inevitably won't) Is it just me or does this Xmas holiday feel unending?

I'm not complaining.

But amid all of this flurry and activity, we have yet to tell very many people that a baby (a real live BABY) will be joining our family in the new year. It seeps out unexpectedly in dribbles sometimes, like in a teary exchange with my friend at the YWCA women's shelter as I finally gave away my maternity clothes this week. But last night, for instance, we were around at least a dozen people we know and really, really like. From us, not a peep.

"You guys look great! What's new?!?"
us: Thanks! You too! hmm, not much, same old, same old...

"Any big plans for 2013?"
us: we'll see.....

We're not being coy. Or evasive. Mom, we're not driving you crazy on purpose. We are just still that shit-scared. Yes, we are at 26 weeks. And I thought I would pop the lid off at 25 with a big announce, but with every week I just want to wait one week more, just to be safe.

I never did tell my co-workers as planned because this week, as you might know if you're on the MB FB, we had another scare that pretty much immobilized me in worry. And really did immobilize our surrogate in pain.

Kidney stones, you are bitch.

All is well now. A stone (of gargantuan proportion, according to her awe-struck doctor) has passed. The pain has completely subsided. I'm hoping not to be on the receiving end of an "I'm having really bad lower back pain. I think I should go to the doctor" text for another few months.

**

I'm not purposefully avoiding the Newtown conversation, but I'm not really ready to talk about it either. Like Keiko, I learned from a hubby who suddenly became even more engrossed than usual with his smart phone. Like her, I joked, only to hear it wasn't a joke. Like TracyOC, I draw instant connections to all of the moms and dads who now must live without their babies, because first graders, come on, they're babies too. Beautiful running, laughing, independently thinking babies. And now they are gone.

And if you can't confidently wave goodbye to your little baby as they get on the bus in Newtown fucking Connecticut and assume they will come home, then we all truly are fucked. 

I'm not ok with the NRA reaction to this, especially since their press conference was cut short by a random multi-person shooting in our state that had our surrogate frantically texting us with worry this time. I'm not ok that I have family members with semi-automatic weapons in their house. Really, really not ok with that.

I'm not ok with how diagnoses get tossed around like they are interchangeable. I don't like the insinuations I hear connecting autism with violence, or assuming everyone on the autism spectrum has mental illness. I cringe when I hear my governor pay lip service to the need for more mental health services knowing full well (as does he) that he slashed that budget by millions and millions of dollars this year. Millions. 

I also cringe when I hear gun law reform talked about only in reference to mental illness. Because that's just what we need: another reason for someone not to seek mental health care. Here is a group seeking a more rational approach: http://smartgunlaws.org/demand-a-plan/.

And here is a group you hope you never need, but are so so glad is there when you do: http://www.compassionatefriends.org/home.aspx.
 

Four

I found pieces of this lingering in my drafts this morning, and it felt right to dust it off and share it today. I and J's day.

There are so many things that I have learned in between Dec 5, 2008 and today. A world of knowing (and not knowing, and understanding that there are some things that can't be known). One of those pieces of knowledge is how little it actually takes to be thoughtful and how significant little doses of thoughtfulness can be. The ROI on thoughtfulness is staggering.

When I decided to cycle along with our surrogate earlier this year, my co-worker and friend immediately skyped and said, "oh m...are you sure?" And in that question I knew she was thinking through all that could go right and all that could go wrong. All the stuff I would have to carry with me through a pregnancy...I knew she got me.

And I failed to ever mention how grateful I was for that inquiry. How thoughtful it was.

She wasn't interested in telling me what she thought I wanted to hear. She thought it through and had a true and earnest ask, I need to know that you have thought this through and are ok with it. L, thank you, girl. For real. Because you voiced my thoughts before I did, and that helped me stay on point (what is the goal here? is it me pregnant or is it healthy baby with the best possible chances to flourish?) and helped our decision to stop my cycle go just a little smoother. I'm not saying it didn't sting, but it did get to a point where I started to feel perhaps a little greedy? What's all of this talk about two or three? Pregnancies here there and everywhere....wouldn't one healthy pregnancy, one happy result be enough.

Yes. It is enough. 

So many things struck me about our time with our surrogate and her husband the week of our transfer. 1.) they have the worst luck with flying ever. Missed flights, delayed flights...you name it. They have encountered it to get from there to here and back again. 2.) They are so chill. Laid back. Relaxed. At ease. So at ease, they put me at ease. Even with missed flights and long delays 3.) I keep thinking back to little things they said, even offhandedly, that were simply sweet and thoughtful. And how often I was caught off guard by their kindness.

Maybe, like some of you, my expectations have lowered. Maybe I shouldn't be so shocked to realize that some people are just good people. But I am. But it's a good shock. Like when you slide your hands into your pocket and feel a little $20 bill balled up in there that you forgot about. Grateful. And a little giddy.

**

Yesterday was rough. Really rough. Rougher than today (so far). Anticipation of the births day has been mounting. We had already had a minor meltdown last Friday - Friday night, mild weather, something in the air just felt exactly like that Friday night....me mentioning the book that M happened to be reading the day our daughter's would die (what are the fucking odds?) tipped the scales. Silent night. As in, we barely talked. What was there to say?

in the air....

And then we learned of a loss of a friend. And then we learned of another loss. Closer to home. And then I got an email from our surrogate saying, "I'm just not really feeling that great...." Cue the sleepless nights and feelings of dread and overall hopelessness.

I tried to keep most of this from M. but bits and pieces slipped out over the course of the week. My anxiety dripped over everything I touched, catching innocent bystanders in its path. At one point yesterday, after I pointed out his fifth typo, my (foreign) intern looked at me and said, "you know, now you are being mean."

Sorry, dude. Sorry.

At that point, I decided to email our surrogate and just tell her how I was feeling, what was on my mind and what I needed to get me through the next 48 hours.

While she knows there were daughters and they are loved, we try not to talk too much about our previous losses and struggles with her and her husband now. We wanted this pregnancy to be new, and we didn't want her experience to be overshadowed. Why should it be? But I was morphing into a basketcase yesterday and a mean one at that. I had to do something. So I asked her for help. I asked for constant communications, just over the next day or two. Every move, every ache, please, please, tell me. I have to know. Today. I need to know.

And her response has been nothing but beautiful and supportive, thoughtful and affirming. And oh gosh I get caught between tears and laughter. She tells me I'm not a basketcase, and then tells me how BBB has the hiccups. She reassures me she went to the doc, got some meds and feels as good as new this morning. She thanks me (thanks me!) for putting our faith and trust in her to carry our child. And gosh, oh gosh. I am overcome with grateful.

To M, I say, we are so lucky.

To her, I say, thank you. Beyond words. Thank you.

To my daughters, I say, I love you. We miss you.