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

5 weeks left!

It is amazing how fast time flies.  Or maybe it is amazing how time fills up with activities.  Or maybe life just goes by quickly because it is just so darn good. 
Isabella is due in five weeks- well, actually she is due in 4 weeks and 3 days (if my math is right). 
She is growing just like she should.  Her bottom is under the right side of my ribs, and when she pushes, I feel my ribs go "ow" and I have a numb feeling push down on my left leg.  I think she is a little bit diagonal in there, but I am sure she will scoot down in time.  Does that make sense? 

Isabella and me at 34 weeks (I think... it is Jan 22nd)
Everything is wonderful.  My children are healthy.  Isabella is growing like she should.  My husband is moving home in twelve days.  I feel like I am making forward progress at work.  My house, amazingly, is mostly clean.  I have an amazing family.  I am growing a miracle for another amazing family.  What more can I say?

Let me think really hard.... hmm...
I guess I always come back to the same thought.  I am carrying another woman's child.  To me, this is just a normal part of my life.  But when I tell people this, they look at me funny.  I realize somewhere in my mind that this is not "normal" for most people.
I can understand this.
I can understand my friend's husband who thinks it is crazy.
I can understand the child who doesn't understand.
I can understand my sister saying "I could never do that".
I can understand my father not wanting to talk about it.
What I don't understand is the negativity, the judgement, and the rudeness with which so many people view surrogacy.
What I don't understand is the woman with six children telling me she could never "do that to my children".
What I don't understand is the church member who tells me it is wrong, but can't tell me why.
What I don't understand is the childless woman with no sister, no friend, no loved-one who will heal her broken heart.
What I don't understand is people asking, "why don't they just adopt?" (and I think, "well, why didn't YOU just adopt instead of having your own child?)
Surrogacy is a medical miracle.  It is a gift from God. 
Surrogacy is beautiful.  Through surrogacy, I have extended my family to include two more.  I have watched pain turn into joy.  I have watched heartache turn into beauty.  I have seen faith turn into life.  I have seen hope turn into motherhood.
And I have learned- faith, hope, love, compassion, sacrifice, endurance, patience, and humility.
And I hope, somewhere in this journey, I have taught my children something about love.


 

Inspiration

I rarely remember to read the comments left on my blog until my husband tells me about them, but I just read the comment from my last update, and within minutes this poem by Emily Dickinson started running through my head (yes, I am a geek).

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking

If I can stop one heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one life the aching
or cool one pain


Or help one fainting robin
unto his nest again
I shall not live in vain.


My goal as a teacher, a surrogate, and -most importantly- as a mother is to change for the better just one life in this world.  My fear is that I will fail.  My hope is that I will succeed.  I read this post and know how naive it sounds, but what good would life be if I allowed the cynnicism to cloud my every choice?
This is my dream, my inspiration, and I believe there is so much good in the world that it must be possible for one such as I to do some good work to "pay back" the world for all the blessings I enjoy.

The pineapple and me at 33 weeks

Isabella is doing great!  She is apparently the weight of a pineapple- of course, that is generic and I am sure she is bigger.  She continues to wiggle and move as much as ever- I just feel each and every movement so strong now.  At our appointment last week, my ob asked how things were going.  I said, "well, my legs get tingly, I have to eat tums, I can't bend, and I still have stabbing pains in my sides." 
He said, "you know those are all normal pregnancy symptoms."
I said, "yeah, but you asked ;)"

He reminded my IM that I am a great incubator and there is nothing to worry about. 
I contemplated packing a hospital bag, but why tempt fate?  I am holding out until 34 weeks, and then I will give in and pack.  I definitely don't want to be left without a bag like I was last time.  I also don't want to drive myself to the hospital again either, but we'll see.
I am enjoying this pregnancy so much- I think because it is not twins!  Twins hurt.  Isabella doesn't, usually.  Her favorite times to wake up are at bedtime and 3:00 am.  Jason will wake her up and "play" with her if he can't sleep.  He apparently did this last weekend and I slept right through their playtime!  Her mother has told Jason she will call him when she wakes up at 3, thank you very much for training her to wake up then :)
I dream about Isabella being born very often, I think because I am so ready for her to be born.
I was thinking about her parents.  The last time (and the only time) they had a daughter born, they were unable to enjoy her.  They were faced with her eminent death even as they basked in their newfound parenthood.  I remember how relieved I was when I saw each of my children- their screams, their hair, their toes, their healthy pink skin.  I remember how afraid I was with the twins- that they were too early, that they would not cry.  I remember the relief I felt when L cried, and then her brother.  They were pink, they were breathing, they were whole.
I have never lost a child fresh from the womb.  I have never felt the anguish of loss instead of the miracle of life.  I have only seen the fruit of my labor grow and flourish.  I have never seen one wither and die even as I bleed for my work in bringing them here.

My goal this entire journey has been to give Isabella's parents a LIVING miracle.  Her sister was a miracle, but she was a gift that God wanted back home with him too soon.  For about a month, from 28 weeks to 32 weeks, I had not dreams of her birth, but nightmares of her birth.  I was soo afraid of losing her, so afraid I would fail in bringing her parents their promised gift.  Now, at 33 weeks, I feel safe.  I feel we are in the "clear" and that I will not fail.
I anticipate her birth in a way I never have before.  I want to see her- pink, screaming, chubby, ten-toed, dark-haired, in the arms of her mother.  The moment of my joy will not be the moment when she comes out screaming, but the moment that she is placed in her mother's arms- the moment I see a healthy, whole and perfect child in the arms of love.  Can you imagine the vision of wholeness I will be privvy to?  I cannot wait.

6 weeks, 5 days, and counting...