Almost all my friends think that I should try for twins. I suspect they’re romanticising the idea and can’t put themselves in my position to give a considered response, rather than a cute one
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That first miscarriage would now be a six-month-old baby. Stupid, torturous thoughts that don’t do anyone any good, but it’s difficult to escape them.
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Now I’m jealous, guilty, mortified and angry. I’d say a bit of a mess too. The realisation that we have zero control hits me again.
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The surrogate can change her mind and “leave” at any time before the embryo is implanted. Even after we’ve signed the contract
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It is not lost on me how uncomfortable it feels to be “inconvenienced” by how a stranger’s body is functioning. It seems controlling and I definitely don’t like it;
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I’m about to plan yet another diplomatic but ranty email to the agency (why do we have to chase so hard? Why is this taking so long?) when our week takes a turn for the sadder.
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Jane emailed again as if nothing had happened and said: “Amazing news! Transfer is planned for three months, hooray! Bet you’re excited!”
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Drop the mike, Zoe. No really, please, drop it. I’m going to need to stabilise my blood pressure and work out where we are going to find the funds to try to finish what we’ve barely even started.
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Mr B and I are holding hands on the sofa and processing this positive progress. Suddenly it hits home that we could have a three-month-old baby by this time next year
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I do, however, use every birthday as a marker. Another year gone without achieving motherhood.
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What does this mean? The subsequent email from the doctors’ clinic was equally lacking in information. What the holy hell does this even mean?
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I know that in writing this down I’m giving it weight — a realness that is probably as uncomfortable to read as it is to write — but I’d be an idiot to think this relationship is more bulletproof than any other
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This is such a big day for us all, but I feel I’m being shut out of it, and it’s killing me
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No news. No word from Melissa, no word from the agency, no knowing what word we’re waiting for, but knowing we need something to help us to get through this uncomfortable anticipation.
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Finding out it’s game over is the most devastating blow at this point — when we thought we were finally on our way — and I don’t know how I’ll be able to deal with it yet.
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We basically didn’t like each other in the end, so it would have been like we were staying together ’cos of the kid(s). Unhealthy, that.
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I want to talk about it because it deserves its own explanation, rather than a mere sideline scenario.
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What I’m trying to say is, we have a new surrogate. And this surrogate is THE surrogate and there is a very good reason for all that came before.
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Yes it took an awfully long time to get here, but it genuinely feels as though we were waiting for this person.
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If I tot up everything we’ve wasted already, I feel sick, so I try not to. Mr B, on the other hand, keeps inputting the costs into a spreadsheet. He carries a big burden of knowledge.
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