It’s Saturday May 18, 2013 and our baby is four days overdue. I know this is quite a jump from the last time I wrote about our story but it always seems easier to write about things that have already happened. It gives me some time and space to reflect on all the events and describe them in a beautiful and colorful way. It’s like painting a picture. Prior to having the full scope of the image in my mind, it’s nearly impossible to capture it on paper. But before I give away the ending of my story, well actually, the ending of this chapter of my story and the beginning of the next, I’ll go back to September 5, 2012, the day we received the news of our positive pregnancy test.
The rest of that day was surreal. I had a perpetual smile, such that my face was sore by the end of the day. DR had errands to run that day with the kids so I went with her to do some shopping. She kept asking me if I felt different, and I did, but it was so hard to describe. I was filled with joy of course, but the emotion I noticed first and the one that seemed the strongest was the sense of relief. People often describe it as the feeling of a weight being lifted. I had carried that weight around with me for so long, I began to get used to it. The sadness and the heartache had been with me for years, that once it was lifted, I realized just how heavy it had always been. I felt light, as though I could float away into the atmosphere, perhaps up to “cloud 9”. Maybe that’s what that expression means. I’m on cloud 9. In order to reach such heights one would have to be held down with an enormous force, crushing gravity, and then suddenly released. There was a sense of weightlessness that softly lifted my spirit. Another expression I have a new appreciation for.
Here’s how I know I instantly became a mother. As soon as the weight and sadness of my years of infertility had been lifted, it was replaced by worry. Part of the continuing process of IVF, passed a positive pregnancy test was completely unknown to me, but required weekly doctor appointments for blood work and ultrasounds including continuing medication and dreaded progesterone shots. Progesterone shots hurt. There is no two ways around it. It is a daily injection in the gluteus muscle via a two and a half inch, 27 gauge needle, for 2 months. In my own previous IVF experience I never had to take the shots longer than 2 weeks, because my IVFs always failed. DR was in for a long painful road. Every week we met at the infertility clinic for DR to have blood work done and an ultrasound to see our little peanut. I remember after only a few weeks, we were able to hear the heartbeat. I remember that moment being tense with fear, certainly the old baggage of perpetual bad news had not left me. When the little black peanut shaped blob appeared on the screen it seemed actually insignificant to me, but then, it began to pulse. The room got very quiet, the Doppler sound was turned up, and the room filled with life, the sound of the beating heart of my baby. It was alive. It didn’t look like much of anything recognizable but that sound, that amazing thumping sound, was proof there was something unbelievable going on here. We did it. We made a life.
The weeks that followed were full of doctor appointments, blood work, ultrasounds, beating hearts, progesterone shots, and estrogen therapy. Every week we waited with baited breath for a call from the clinic to let us know how DRs hormone levels were doing. We were still on a roller coaster ride of great hope and dreaded worry. Up and down for weeks but every week was another little victory. Until week 7, when we received a phone call from MR at about 6:30am on a Tuesday morning, telling us to get over to the house quick, DR had woken up in a pool of blood.
I remember jumping out of bed and silently getting ready. Both Hubby and I were panic stricken but we didn’t say much to each other. I just looked at him, cool as a cucumber on the outside, and a panicked mess on the inside and said, “we don’t know what this means yet.” We were both doing what we always did which was prepare our minds for the worst. We were coming to acceptance that this again was going to end in failure. Focusing on our plan B to adopt. We raced to DRs house. MR was at work already when he called us, DRs mother was there to pick up the kids and take them to school, trying very hard not to react in front of them. I ran by them with a half smile and into the house. I made eye contact with DR but said nothing. Her face was beat red and drenched with her own tears. She had been hysterically crying. I was touched that she would emote in that way for me. I didn’t cry. I stayed calm and told her to get in the back seat of the car and lay down. She just kept saying there was so much blood. I told her to relax, we don’t know what this is yet, we don’t know that this is a miscarriage. But all three of us felt like it was the end. We rushed to the clinic, we had called earlier and they were ready for us when we arrived. They took us right in and DR got up on the table ready for the ultra sound to see what was going on. I was afraid to look. Hubby was holding my hand as we stared up at the screen. Into sharp focus the screen showed two large dark orbs, one was pulsing, one was not. The Dr. told us the baby was still there, still had a beating heart and seemed fine. The other dark orb was a subchorionic hematoma. A blood clot. This was the cause of the bleeding, and not the baby or the placenta. It was very large and the Dr. warned us that it could pose a problem to the baby but that it was actually quite common in early pregnancy and usually resolves itself either by bleeding out or being absorbed by the body. DR was put on strict bed rest for the rest of the week, from Tuesday until Friday when we would return to check it again.
After she got cleaned up and dressed we took DR home, slightly relieved that the baby was still alright. We were all shell shocked. I stayed with DR for the rest of the day, made dinner for the family so she could lie down and rest. The next day I went shopping for some helpful things that would make her bed rest a little more comfortable. Magazines, lip balm, a back scratcher, candy, and hand lotion among other things. Just some things I thought would make her happy. That week her oldest daughter’s school was hosting back-to-school night for the parents. Normally DR would go and traipse around the school, up and down the stairs, meeting all the teachers. There’s no way she could do that kind of activity, so I went in her place. I told her to lie down and take care of my baby and I’ll go to back-to-school night and take care of her baby. I was so diligent, rushed up and down the stairs of the school a dozen times, meeting all the teachers, taking notes on the kinds of things they were covering during the school year, collected all the papers. By the time I left that night I was drenched in sweat and broke the heel of my shoe. As long as DR could lie down, not move, and help my baby continue to grow, I was happy to do it.
We returned to the clinic early Friday morning for an ultra sound to see how the baby was and what was going on with this nasty blood clot. I thought DR was going to die. She is not the type of person to rest or relax. She is a mother on the go with three kids, a husband, and career. Bed rest for 3 days was worse than torture for her. Quickly, DR hopped up on the table, the lights went dim, and we impatiently stared at the screen, waiting to hear our fate. There it was, my little dark pulsating orb, thumping with life. Above it where the blood clot had been, there was nothing. It was gone. DR hadn’t bled anymore since that first dreadful day and now, 3 days later, the blood clot was gone, her body had absorbed it, and her uterus was once again a cozy piece of heaven for my little peanut. DR was able to resume regular activity. She never had another episode like that. I realized then. Nothing was going to get in the way of this baby being born, but we were reminded once more that this was a miracle we were witnessing, and we must always remember that and value that. Pregnancy is a marvel, should always be respected, and never taken for granted.
At 12 weeks pregnant, DR was able to stop all medication and we were able to graduate from the infertility clinic and begin seeing our regular OB-GYN. When the Dr. told DR she could stop the painful progesterone shots and suppositories that made her feel like she was sitting in mud all day, she jumped off the table and hugged the Dr. asking him to marry her. He laughed and said, “that’s all it takes to get a beautiful woman to marry me?” We all laughed and were overjoyed that we had made it to this very special and important milestone. On our very last visit, I had a bitter-sweet feeling. I had known these Dr.’s and nurses for years, the embryologist, the phlebotomist, the receptionists, the financial manager, all of them had meant so much to me and as much as I wouldn’t miss going there, I would miss them. I brought them bagels and fruit for breakfast and wrote them a beautiful card expressing my love for each of them and my appreciation for all of their help. For DRs last ultra sound, the Dr. that day asked us if we would like to know the sex because she could tell us. I said yes but no. We were planning on having a gender reveal party and wanted her to write it down on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope. This was only early November and we weren’t expecting to be able to know the sex at this point. Everyone had their guess. DR had thought for a while it was a boy but was now leaning towards it being a girl, Hubby secretly wanted a boy but was thinking it was a girl as well. I knew it was a boy. I had always dreamt of having a boy first, and after the incident driving home from the initial pregnancy test and seeing the big truck with our son’s name on it, I just knew it was a boy. It would be another three months until we would find out for sure. I kept that envelope sealed, never looked at it again, tucked away in my dining room cabinet.
A few weeks later was Thanksgiving. My brother and sister-in-law were hosting a big holiday this year and invited MR, DR, and their kids to join us. I was elated to celebrate my favorite holiday with them and with my baby. There was nearly 20 people gathered in my brothers new home, seated around a long rectangular table. It looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was perfect and beautiful. All the women cooked and brought delicious side-dishes and my brother and husband deep fried four 16 lb. turkeys. Yes we ate 64 pounds of turkey. The food and the gratitude was abundant. I prepared to say a prayer before eating. Thanking God for all his miracles from my baby and DRs successful pregnancy to the electricity being on as many of us were without power due to Hurricane Sandy. There wasn’t a dry eye at the table. Here we all were gathered together. Four families bonded and sharing and giving thanks. It was the epitome of the Thanksgiving holiday.
A month went by very quickly and before we knew it was Christmas. Again, we spent the holiday as if we had never celebrated it before. In a continuous state of bliss, just knowing that our baby was healthy and safe and DR was well into her 2nd trimester feeling great. Gone was the morning sickness, headaches, and aches and pains that came along with the early stages of pregnancy. Everyone was feeling wonderful, and we looked forward with great anticipation to our 20 week anatomy ultra sound where we could finally see our baby’s face. It was the perfect Christmas gift, on December 26th all four of us went to the hospital to have our anatomy scan. We were excited and anxious. The sonographer seemed at first overwhelmed by all of us being there and our story. Who is the mother who is the father whose husband belongs to who, whose cousin is who, it was all very confusing for her and amusing for us. She scanned over the head first. We were able to see our baby’s beautiful face. It was difficult for me to see through the glaze of tears in my eyes but I could just feel the outpouring of love this little being was projecting onto the screen. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The most amazing Christmas gift ever. As the tech was going body part by body part over our baby’s limbs and organs, ensuring everything was looking normal, she warned us she was going to scan over the genitals and if we didn’t want to know the sex in that moment, we should close our eyes. I was so determined to reveal the baby’s gender at the party I had been planning so I urged everyone to close their eyes and look away. The one time the four of us would have a bump in the road to delivering this baby began with this moment. My carriers husband MR is a jokester. He always has been, that’s part of his charm. He and my husband grew up together as brothers more than mere cousins and also had a very competitive spirit between them. This mostly consisted of who won some baseball championship and who is a better bowler. Teasingly, MR makes like he’s looking at the screen and jokes that he “saw something”. Knowing my husband pines for a boy, MR jokes that he’s sure it’s a girl, and to start buying pink. This doesn’t bother me, the part about it potentially being a girl, I would be overjoyed no matter what the gender was, but what bothered me was the notion that someone other than myself and my husband knows the gender before we do. What I should have done was express myself immediately and let him know how the teasing bothered me, but I didn’t. I let it go, passed it off as joking, and tried not to think about it.
As the next few weeks moved on, I submerged myself in party planning. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to throw a party for all our family and friends who had supported us and who had been there for us throughout our long and arduous journey. I wanted to say thank you and show my gratitude for all those shoulders I cried on, and all those words of encouragement we were given. After years of despair and sorrow it was finally time to celebrate. We were more than 25 weeks into a successful pregnancy and no matter what happens from that point on, we had reached a huge milestone worthy of celebrating. Sometime in late January we made dinner plans with my carrier and her family. It was beautiful; we both made food, gathered around her dining room table with her kids and had a lovely dinner. Then the topic of the gender reveal and the baby’s sex came up in conversation and again, making a joke, MR insinuated he saw the screen and he knew the gender. I blew up. I was emotional anyway, we all were, but I was angry with the notion that he would have looked when I asked him not to and he now knew something about my child that I didn’t know. Here’s where things get tricky when you are having a child with a gestational carrier. What I learned in this moment, aside that I should have communicated better, was that there are underlying emotions that an intended mother has about the fact that she is unable to carry her own baby. There’s a sorrow about it, yes, I think that’s almost expected, but what surprised me was that I felt angry. I was jealous. There’s so much bonding that occurs during pregnancy and no matter how hard I tried and how many online articles I read and followed along with pregnancy calendars so I could keep up, I simply was unable to experience the pregnancy of my child and I was pissed about it. This was a miracle happening here. I never expected to have feelings of anger. In my mind, at that moment, I felt like one more thing was being taken away from me. He knows something I don’t know, another piece of the experience has been robbed from me. Of course he didn’t understand that, and had he understood he would have never said what he said. MR is a wonderful, hard working man. An amazing husband to DR, an exceptional father to his three children, and a wonderful Godfather to his two Godchildren. If he had a window into my mind he would not have made jokes about knowing the gender. So believe it or not, we had a fight. But it was the kind of fight you have with people that you love and because you love them. An argument with loud raised voices, curses, accusations, tears, and hurt feelings. The one thing I knew, was that my husband and I were not leaving their house until we worked this out. This argument was a huge lesson for me in communication and the art of listening and understanding. The trick is to always tell your own truth, the whole truth. Say the part of the sentence your thinking but are afraid to say out loud. It’s so important for the other person to hear your complete thoughts so they can understand with certainty where you are coming from. We laid it out. The four of us talked for another hour or more after that. As much as I hated that her kids had witnessed that, it ended up being an important lesson to them as well. Adults can argue and disagree and hurt each other but when you love someone you stay, you finish the conversation, you work towards fixing it right then and there, and you end with hugging and saying I love you. That is exactly how that night ended. With tears in our eyes, warm hugs, I’m sorry’s, and I love you’s.
It is so important in this journey to be honest with yourself. The emotional roller coaster is just that, a series of enormous highs and death defying lows. If you ignore that anger and only recognize the gratitude, you won’t make it. Of course I was grateful for the sacrifice DR and her whole family were making for us, but living in that state of undying gratitude is exhausting and unattainable. Infertility robbed from me, any opportunity to experience pregnancy, bonding, and the birth of my child. I was angry about that still and I had to give that anger some acknowledgment. I could not live nine months in a constant state of bowed unworthiness of the amazing gift that was being given to me. Luckily, DR had a very real understanding of that, respected that part of the journey for me, and was never in it for the kudos anyway. It was this mutual understanding that carried us both through the next few months. Just as much as I had to understand that she could not live in a constant state of pregnant bliss, the way I would have handled my own pregnancy. I had to understand that even though she was pregnant with my child and it was my miracle, pregnancy is still pregnancy and it is not always fun. I had to allow her to complain and have bad days, even days where she might have wished she hadn’t done this. Although she never wished away the pregnancy, she did have a rough February and March due to unrelenting, unbearable, stabbing gas pains. I’d feel a little twinge of jealousy when she would complain about the aches and pains, thinking to myself that I’d cut my left arm off to feel those aches and pains and confirmations that I was pregnant. Still, I had to let her go through it, I had to give her the space to ache unhappily, and assure myself that her complaints did not mean she was taking this pregnancy for granted. She absolutely was not. She completely understood how painful it was for me to watch her be pregnant with my baby. I allowed her to complain and she allowed me to let my anger and jealousy get the best of me, and we ebbed and flowed our way through the pregnancy experience. Mostly we laughed and hugged and professed our love for one another. Our relationship strengthened and grew as the days passed. We had doctors and nurses and sonogram technicians in awe of our free spiritedness and good nature with every appointment. Many people told us to write the book on gestational carriers because we got it figured out. We made it up as we went along but the core of it was built on mutual respect, love, and admiration of each other. We were giving gifts to each other and we both recognized that. She gifted me with a life, and I gifted her with an opportunity that ultimately enriched her life. Beautiful.
On February 17th, my husband and I threw a party to celebrate the pregnancy, give thanks to our biggest supporters, and reveal the gender of our baby. Hubby brought the envelope with the gender sealed inside along with an old Weber grill box to our local Party City store. He gave the manager the box and the envelope and asked to have the box filled with either pink or blue balloons based on what was written in the envelope. Wrap the box in yellow baby wrapping paper and he would pick up the final product in the morning before the party. The store manager was more than willing to oblige us and that is how we too were surprised at the party and found out the gender along with everyone else. I decorated the hall with blue and pink table clothes and balloons. I had nearly 80 people show up and the party went perfectly. Guests cast their votes and wore either blue or pink beaded necklaces in support of their guess. We had music and games and prizes and everyone had a blast, it was perfect. Then it was time to open the box. Everyone was waiting with baited breath. The energy in the room was buzzing with excitement. I wore a blue dress and Hubby wore a pink buttoned down shirt. The enormous box stood looming in the center of the room, wrapped with a huge yellow bow and a giant heart in the center with the words, “It’s a …?”. It was time to release the balloons. Hubby and I had no idea what was inside and in that moment I was so happy I stayed strong and never secretly looked in the envelope. Drum roll. We both started removing the bow, unwrapping the top, prying the box open and before they were released into the air I got a glimpse of what was inside. Tears immediately started running down my face, blurring my vision, and with a great big pull of the top flaps of the box, blue balloons ascended toward the ceiling. There were screams of excitement, cheers, tears, hoots and hollers. I stood there with my hands over my face, crying hysterically with the fierce unleashing of my unadulterated joy. Hubby came around the giant box to hug me, hold me, and kiss me. It was better than our wedding day. There was more emotion in this moment than the moment we said “I do”. All 80 people stood up and lined up to hug us and congratulate us and our parents and DR and MR. There were tears and hugs and kisses flying all over the place. This was a perfect moment, and a perfect day. In fact it was such a huggy, kissy, loving moment amongst so many people that almost half of my party guests got the stomach flu two days later. Thankfully DR did not get sick, but that’s what happens when you have that many people loving on each other in the middle of a bitter cold February flu season.
March was a difficult month for DR. She was retaining so much gas in her abdomen she was bent over in pain for weeks. I was powerless to help her. We tried everything to relieve her pain, from over the counter antacids, to Activia yogurt and herbal teas. Nothing worked. DR even tried sleeping in a recliner to relieve some of the pain during the night but nothing much helped. After a few weeks the baby dropped lower into her pelvis and took the pressure off of her intestines where the gas would get stuck in her abdomen. It was so bad it actually showed up on a sonogram like smog filled bubbles. Once the baby was lower, the pain was relieved. The beginning of April proved to be a much more comfortable month. The weeks were really flying by now. I could not believe we were about a month away from the birth of our baby, it was becoming surreal. Everyone was building excitement, while Hubby and I were building anxiety. As the baby got bigger in DR’s small four foot eleven inch frame, he was running out of space. Earlier in the year DR would feel flutters and kicks, some of which I could feel right through her stomach, but now the movements were less and slower. I was freaking out. Every time I was in her presence and many times when I wasn’t I would ask DR if she could feel him moving. Every time she would assure me that he was fine, and she could feel him and this was normal. Every week when we went to the OBGYN for her checkups I would hold my breath until the sound of his sweet heart beat would come over the Doppler machine. These last few weeks were killing us. Hubby and I were no help to each other as we would make each other more paranoid and freaked out. If we text messaged DR we would get so anxious waiting for her response.
The month of April was smooth sailing for DR however, she felt great, had no pain, and therefore no sign of labor. My baby shower was scheduled for April 28th, Hubby’s and mine 7 year wedding anniversary. It was perfect timing. My mother, sister in law, and cousins threw me the most beautiful Dr. Seuss themed baby shower. It was beautiful and I have never seen so many gifts and so much generosity. This little boy was spoiled beyond belief. I know my mother was in a state of bliss. She had waited for this day, for this celebration, for many many years, and it was finally here. She made a beautiful toast, expressing what a miracle this baby was and how amazing our journey had been. She was so humbled and grateful thanking and blessing everyone and everything, she even said God bless God. Well it was God that made all of this possible so why not give thanks by shooting a blessing out His way. I think I was more overjoyed for my mom to have this moment. Throwing a baby shower for your daughter is like some rite of passage and I was so glad my mother was able to have this experience. God Bless God. I feel like I opened a hundred thousand presents, this baby would want for nothing. It was overwhelming and exciting. I was able to keep everyone entertained and laughing through the whole thing, and was later complimented on my ability to make a boring baby shower fun and amusing. At the end of the party, Hubby and the men returned to help pack up cars and bring all the items back to our home but before that, we presented DR with a gift. We bought her a double heart diamond necklace with matching bracelet, ring, and earrings. Each piece of jewelry was a symbol of how her heart, my heart, and the hearts of our son, my husband, and our families are forever connected. She will forever remain a special and unique person in our lives. The day was simply perfect and before we left the hall, DR called me to the ladies room to tell me she had begun losing her mucus plug. The early stages of labor had begun.
April quickly turned into May and we were days away from our due date. For months DR was convinced due to her previous pregnancies that she would go early. So we all expected her water to break any second. But it never did. She felt completely fine. Thankfully there was no pain but also no sign of labor at all. She had lost her mucus plug and was even a centimeter or two dilated but still nothing. DR was even continuing to work. Every day that went by I became more anxious and worried about the baby’s movement, DR became more tired of being pregnant, and we were all surprised that we were even this far along. We had convinced ourselves for months that we’d have a baby by this point. Three days after the due date, we would get the news we had been waiting to hear.
thejourneytoparenthood 