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A womb for rent
No one really knows why H and I could never get pregnant. But at some point it became obvious that "alternative accomodations" might be necessary. A "womb for rent" if you will. In proper terms, she's called a "gestational carrier."
In some ways, using a surrogate is like having a perfect pregnancy. I didn't worry about one bit as I shoveled in sushi and foie gras. I drank wine with abandon. I never had to wear granny pants. And all the while, another woman tended to my child.
Of course, it's not as simple as that. There is the matter of choosing a surrogate. After all, this is someone to whom you are entrusting to bring your child into the world. Our requirements basically boiled down to this: no crazy super religious weirdo. Find us a normal lady with a nice, fluffy endometrium in which to lay our little embryo. Our agency was amazing and soon had me matched with a perfect "holiday home" for our little baby. Her woman bits worked just fine. Apparently she could get pregnant just by looking at a photo of semen. And while she loved being pregnant, she was done having kids. There was never a doubt in her mind that she'd get pregnant and not a doubt in my mind that she wouldn't hand that fully baked baby right back. In fact she told me so: "Don't think for one second about trying to leave her with me. I've got my own kids. This one goes home with you."
And no, this wonderful woman didn't do this great thing for us out of the goodness of her heart. There was cash involved. A lot of it. But it wasn't all business. How could it be? There are some things upon which you simply can't place a strict monetary value. And loaning me your uterus for 9 months is one of them.
Some people think that surrogacy is just rich people taking advantage of needy women. But it's not like that. Our surrogate was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She wasn't destitute. But yes, the money did allow her and her family a certain freedom that they wouldn't otherwise have. Oddly enough, every time I tried to express my gratitude, she turned around and began thanking me. Our relationship became one of mutual appreciation and I have deep, deep respect for this lady.
And while I joke about my flat belly, the truth is I wish it could have been me. Truly. I was deeply jealous. She knew my daughter long before I did. She felt her kick and squirm while I had to be content with ultrasound photos and the occasional kick into my palm. And watching my mother coo over this woman, covering her belly with hands that should have been on mine, well that hurt.
But it is what it is, isn't it? So there you go. At 39 weeks pregnant, I went to the hospital in fitted Capri pants, sipping a diet Coke and resting my hand on my flat belly while another lady pushed my baby out her vagina. It was weird. And wonderful. And every time my daughter does something goofy and I laugh, I'm beyond grateful. Both for the gift of a child and my dry underpants.
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Sat Aug 6, 2011 - 9:56 am
Can we start doing photo responses? I'm trying to put the face I'm pulling, into words, but can't. Would be a lot easier if I could take a picture of my reaction and post it.. :) Anyway, there's a hint of a smile, a slightly sad look, raised eyebrows but not in a questioning way. I'm basically saying 'wow' and 'sounds heartbreaking' and 'sounds amazing' all at the same time.Reply -
1 reply, Last reply by FrauFancy on Mon Aug 8, 2011 at 6:15 am
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Thu Aug 4, 2011 - 1:14 pm
We adopted all five of our kids, so I am jealous of pregnant bellies too. My husband "got snipped" when we found out that we were adopting the older three, so I could still get pregnant and have seriously considered surrogacy .... but if I am going to do it, it needs to be soon, before my eggs dry out. This is the post I wrote about it http://slappyintheface.com/?p=925Reply -
Report Thu Aug 4, 2011 - 9:55 amI laughed, out loud, at the dry underpants...Reply -
1 reply, Last reply by FrauFancy on Thu Aug 4, 2011 at 1:12 pm
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