The Day After

Yesterday, at 8:00 am, we induced labor with Isabella.  At 11:26am, she was born into the arms of my doctor who had run in the door just in time.  Her mother and grandmother watched her arrival, and stood by my side as the doctor cut the cord and wiped her face.  She was placed into the arms of her mother as her father came in the room.  There were mere moments between her exit from the warmth of my womb until her placement into the loving arms of her mother.  I watched her mother and father hold her, somehow together, as the tears flowed down their cheeks.  My heart almost burst with the beauty I had been priveleged to see.  Isabella, their living miracle, is nine pounds, eight ounces of perfect, chubby, pink baby.  She is the answer  to prayer.  She is the doorway to happiness.  She is beautiful and has the awesomest black mohawk I have ever seen ;) 
I held her today, and told her I loved her, and kissed her forehead.  I left her where she belongs, and came home to my children where I belong. 

I am overwrought with emotion today.  My hormones are changing, my uterus is cramping, and my organs are trying to figure out where they should be.  I feel good.  I am waiting for the milk to come in so I can enjoy a few days of smelling like cabbage and stuffing my bra with frozen peas (it is totally fun).

I am as happy as can be.  Isabella is perfect.  She is in the arms of her family

I am home with my family.  Isabella is with her family.  My heart is full of love.  My mind is full of peace.  A living miracle has arrived on the earth- what greater cause to rejoice could there be?

Tomorrow

Isabella will be born tomorrow. The only word that comes to mind is:  bittersweet. 

Sweet because my goal to bring her parents' dream to reality will be reached.  Sweet because her parents will hold their living miracle in her arms.  Sweet because I will have fulfilled my promise to her mother that she will only cry "happy tears" from now on.  Sweet because her big sister will be watching down from Heaven and know her parents are finally happy.  Sweet because I will get to see the beauty of a family grow.

Bitter because my part in this journey is over.  Bitter because I have fallen in love with this child and her family.  Bitter because I love, love, love surrogacy and it is ending.

Tomorrow is the day.  I will smile, and I will be brave.  I will complete this journey with a heart full of love, the same way I began it.

Isn't it ironic?

I want this baby out, out, out!  My back hurts and I am craaanky and everyone keeps laughing at me walking (or, as they so kindly put it, waddling) and asking how much longer (because I am just soo huge they can't believe she is still in there).  She goes all the way up to the bottom of my bra and I can't even reach the table- I mostly hold my plate under my face.  Her parents are ready and waiting, waiting, waiting...  So what is the irony you may ask?
As soon as she is out, I will have crazy hormones, a pudgy belly (with no baby to stretch it out and make it look cute), and these crazy hormones will tell me that I want to be pregnant again. 
What kind of evil is it to make a woman forget the miseries of pregnancy and child birth so quickly after delivery?  I tell you, God knew we would never produce more than one child if we didn't forget the pain and misery that accompanies it!
In all reality, I will miss the journey, the experience, the miracle, the beauty, and the joy these last ten months have brought me.  I remember the intrigue in meeting my IPs (the baby's parents).  I remember how much I wanted to help them have a child.  I remember the hope we felt at transfer.  I remember the excitement we felt waiting for that first ultrasound.  I remember watching her grow as the weeks went by.  I remember watching her parents' anxiety turn to happiness as she crossed the 30 week mark.  I remember her mother kissing her hand and placing it against my belly at every appointment we have been to.  I remember the teddy bear her parents bought her that speaks to her with their voices.  I remember the love.  I remember the first time I saw her mother have "happy" tears.  And the second.  And the third.  I remember every moment of this miracle we call Isabella. 
Now, I just wait for her birth.  I wait until she is ready to meet her parents and leave my life to fulfill their dreams.  And I will remember every moment we have left. 
For when my journey ends, hers and her parents journey begins... and that, my friends, is why I carry this child. 
I have been blessed to be a mother, and the journey of raising my children is the greatest journey, the greatest experience I will ever know.  To be able to help another woman know that joy and take this journey is the second greatest thing I will ever do in my life.

Full term baby!

Here I sit at 37 weeks pregnant.  My back is caved in, my ankles have started to swell, I have weird red bumps on my calves, my skin is dry, and I am tired and uncomfortable.  However, these are all minor details that prove to me that the world is exactly as it should be.  I am pregnant still.  Isabella is healthy and perfect.  She has remained in the safe, warm coccoon of my womb long enough that I have no fear of her being born now.  I know I have taken good care of her.  I know her parents have prepared and are completely ready (beyond ready I think) to welcome her home.  Every day now she is growing fatter and stronger.  Who knows, maybe I will deliver another nine pound baby!
I am ready for her to be here.  I am ready for my body to return to me.  I am ready to be able to snuggle in my husband's lap without feeling like a beached whale that can't get comfortable.  I am ready for the moment when I will see her in her mother's arms for the first time (this is the moment that makes surrogacy beautiful- this is the moment that explains why I do it).    I am ready for her to join her family.  The only thing I am not ready for is to lose the beauty of this journey, the joy and the happiness it has brought to my life, and the wonderful friends I have found in Isabella's family.  But mostly, I want her butt out of my ribs ;)
So, we wait. 
We watch my belly grow and this baby thrive.
We wait on Isabella to decide it is time to be born.
And we wait... tap, tap, tap.....
impatiently, we wait... tap, tap tap...

36 weeks belly