Even as I sit to write this post, my heart skips a beat and I am filled with trepidation. I love surrogacy. I love the joy it brings to my life and the happiness it brings to others. But I am afraid to write what will soon flow through my fingers, upon the keys, and onto the web. For even though this process, this journey as we so often call it, brings me joy, there are so many people I love that hate when I do this. I don't know if it shames them that I use my body this way; I don't know if they only fear for my health and my safety; I just don't really know. And I love them, and I don't want to tell them what I know they don't understand. However, I know that I must write. I must write to remember what it is like to be this person that I am. I hope they forgive me, I hope they love me still, and I hope they will support me in the life I choose to live. And I digress, as I am sure you are thinking, "hmm... third beginning- I feel some big news coming here." Well, let me get on with it.
I met my former IM and my beautiful surrobaby for lunch last Thursday. Every time I see them, my heart fills at the sight of A with a baby by her side. The anxiety and sorrow of two years ago has been replaced by a lightness and a tranquility that covers her face and shines through her eyes. No matter what Isabella does, A is collected and composed. She was meant to be a mother. She is so natural. So beautiful. So good at it. I look at that little girl I carried for nine months, and I see my friend's daughter. I see a miracle. And I am reminded that I am so blessed to share a world with people like this.
We sit and look at the menu. A gets up to order our food, and I am left with this little girl by my side. We push her crackers around on the place mat (this super cool plastic rectangle that has tape on all four sides to tape it to the table- oh, the awesome ingenuity of today's inventors!), and make "vroom" and "errr" noises. I make them, she laughs. She tries to make them, I laugh. I enjoy playing with a baby, I don't get to do it too often these days. A comes back and we visit. I am so happy to be here with my friend, here with her and her daughter.
As lunch ends, our conversation turns to the purpose of our visit here at the clinic. I have driven down, taken a day off of work, and we have business to tend to.
We go upstairs, and wait for my turn with the super fun weenie wand. As we wait, we remember the last time we sat in these chairs- almost two years ago exactly. We remember the anxiety and the fear of my IPs, and the hope I had that I could help them. We look around and smile as we remember the cranky ultrasound tech and the appointment we almost missed because they told me the wrong time. This time, we are mostly calm and cool. The same ultrasound tech is there, but she is kind this time around. A little bit of nervousness- what if something had changed and my body wouldn't work?
The procedure ended, and all was fine. We went with our nurse and talked about our cycle. We discussed all the details of how this one will be different than the last. I smiled when I saw that a frozen embryo transfer required much fewer shots than a fresh cycle and my IM smiled when she realized she didn't have to take any shots ;)
Results of our day:
We went into the clinic hoping everything would be okay and we could proceed with a cycle this summer.
We walked out of the clinic with a calendar and tentative transfer dates.
June. Two frozen embryos. My uterus.
I look at this precious child I am pushing in a stroller and I look over at her mother. We smile. I have known this family for over two years. I have watched as the pain turned into hope turned into joy. I don't know how I can really call this a beginning, for I feel we are starting in the middle. The important stuff- the love, the friendship, the understanding of each other- is already done. We are friends going on a trip together down a road we have safely and joyfully traversed before. But it is a new day, a new process, and a new life.
This is my third beginning, and I am ready.