The one where I ramble on about nothing in particular

We're planning a trip to New York.  Have I mentioned that?  What's that?  Only about 18 dozen times?  Sorry about that.  It's kind of what's on my mind these days.  Jesse has developed a fear of terrorists and his main contribution to trip planning is to get a slight frown whenever I mention Times Square.  Between that and my general fear of um, travel and New York and things I've never done before, this whole planning business is just SO MUCH FUN!

When I first started planning this trip I had the attitude of "Who cares how much stuff costs?  We're going to do everything we want and do it the right way and not pay any attention to the price because after all, this might be our only time in New York! Tra-la-la!"

Now it's morphed more into something like "Tra-la-holy crap!  That costs how much?  For all four of us?  FOR ONE OF US?"

I've come to the conclusion that we can afford either food or shelter while we're in New York.  We'll have to skip entertainment all together.  The only exception will be on Joseph's birthday.  He's hoping to spend that day at the Natural History Museum.  We'll just have to buy one ticket and send him in on his own.  Maybe every so often he can come back out and tell us about what he's seen.  Of course, then we run the risk of him never coming back out but then at least we would have one less person to feed for the rest of the trip.  If I can think of a way to lose Elle too Jesse and I might be able to afford a nice dinner at McDonalds one night.

Speaking of things that are totally unrelated, I have made progress in my quest to eventually be involved in the birth, raising and feeding of every child on the planet.  The twins have moved on to formula but I'm still pumping.  (It allows me to lose weight while eating nothing but various dark chocolate coated foods from Trader Joes.)  This past Monday I was able to give 450+ ounces of frozen breast milk to a friend of mine who had a baby just a few weeks after me.  She has not had a lot of luck with nursing so she was so glad to get it.  I was glad to have room in my freezer for ice cream again.

In other news, I had a really nice Mother's Day.  Jesse made up for not buying me a birthday present by going way overboard on the Mother's Day gifts.  Thanks to my new nook and my new ipod I'll now be able to carry my entire music and book collection with me wherever I go.  That is, of course, until I make a total me move and lose them both in a gas station bathroom.

But Mother's Day isn't just about the presents.  Mostly, but not only.  The rest of the day was good too.  The kids were sweet and well-behaved.  Without any prompting at all Joseph gave me several hugs and told me how much he loves me.  That kind of spontaneous physical affection is unusual for him so that was nice.

One of the best parts of the day was getting calls from both pf my pairs of former IFs wishing me a happy Mother's Day.  I know I'm not their baby's mama but it's still nice to be thought of on Mother's Day.  Especially since I am neurotic and I ave this fear that now that they've got their babies they're just waiting for me to lose their phone numbers.  Insecurity, it's what's for dinner.  So getting those phone calls was extra nice and after both of them I did a happy cry.  Which looks a lot like my sad cry in that they are both ugly cries.  I didn't even care that my face looked like a stewed tomato, I was just very happy to get those calls.

I have no good way to end this post and I'm too lazy to come up with one so instead I'll post this cute picture of a baby hand.

One year ago today I shared too much information about body hair.
Three years ago today Joseph wrote the sweetest essay ever.

Today I am sad

I've spent the last 36 hours in three modes: about to cry, crying, recovering from crying.

You know what? Add one more. Hiding the fact that I'm crying so that Jesse won't worry about me.

On Sunday my IFs flew home with The Boy and The Girl so on Saturday Jesse and I went to visit them and say goodbye. We got a hotel room near where my IF's were staying thinking that we would make the night into a nice, relaxing night away from the kids.

The visit itself was nice. We brought the babies Minnesota Twins onesies and a bunch of breast milk \. We went out to eat and Jesse had a turducken burger. I ate ice cream and drank wine and snuggled the babies. When it got late I kissed the babies goodbye and hugged the guys goodbye and made them promise about 20 times to send pictures and stay in touch.

As Jesse and I walked back to our hotel I was feeling pretty good, happy about how everything had gone. When we got back to our hotel room I sat down on the bed and Jesse asked me how I was feeling. I immediately burst into tears. Since then I've been crying once about every 14.7 minutes.

As I've explained to Jesse several times I'm not crying because of regret (because I have none) or a longing to have the babies back (because, no) but rather because I'm sad the whole thing is over with. For the past year the pregnancy, the babies and the guys have been a huge part of my life and now? It's just done.

I miss the babies. I don't have any maternal feelings towards them but I'm not a robot. I carried them and nurtured them for nine months. After they were born I held them and kissed their foreheads and tickled The Boy's double chin and teased The Girl's hair into a mohawk. I miss them.

I miss the guys. They're amazing people and wonderful fathers and I consider myself lucky to know them. Without surrogacy I never would have met them so now when people ask me why I am a surrogate I can add "meeting super cool people" to the long list of ways surrogacy has benefited me. We shared something pretty special and along the way I really came to care about them. Jesse likes them, the kids like them, I like them. They seemed to like me. I miss them.

I miss being pregnant. I miss feeling The Boy hiccuping when I tried to sleep at night. I miss seeing The Girl's arms moving around at the top of my tummy. I miss waddling when I walk and maternity clothes and heartburn and craving chocolate cake. When I was pregnant I got to play a part in building a family. I'm sad that's done now.

Not all the tears I'm shedding are sad ones. There's a lot of sweet to help even out the bitter. The babies are loved and adored beyond reason. The guys have the family they had been wanting for so long. I'm proud of myself for carrying and delivering two big, healthy babies. My family and I are enjoying the benefits of surrogacy, both the financial one and the ones that are a little harder to put into words. I know that as time passed the sweet will remain and the bitter will fade away. I know that part of the reason I'm sadder at the end of this surrogacy than I was at the last one is that the good parts have been so much better this time around. That in it's self is something to be happy about.

But...

But today I am sad.

Two years ago today I played in the snow with my new camera.
Three years ago today Elle had a cookie.
Four years ago today I made fun of people.

All done except for the hormones

If we're not Facebook friends then you might not know this but the babies are here and I'm home from the hospital. I'm slowly working my way back to to my usual sunny state. I'll write up a birth story later but for now here are some of the boring post-partum details.

The Babies
The Boy and The Girl arrived via scheduled c-section on March 23rd. The boy was born at 11:52, weighed a hefty 6 pounds 13 ounces and was 17.5 inches long. The Girl was born at 11:54, weighed a teeny 5 pounds 9 ounces and was 17 inches long. The boy had some breathing issues (probably brought on by inhaling something or other at birth) and had to spend some time in the NICU but he's getting better and stronger every day. In spite of her tiny size The Girl had no issues at all and is 100% healthy.

The Agony and the Ecstasy (but not really)
The c-section was not as terrible as I expected it to be. I mean, it sucked and I hated it but I didn't like, die or anything so I guess it could have been worse. One really neat part of the whole thing was after the babies were out and I could hear them both crying. The guys were hurrying back and forth between the warmers then coming over to me to squeeze my hand or rub my arm. It was a really happy, emotional time and I got to enjoy it without feeling any pain.

That said, c-sections are not the way I hope to go in the future (assuming I ever lose my mind and want to do this again). I'm nearly a week out from surgery and I still want to do nothing more than curl up in bed with a bottle of pain killers.

Pump It Up
I'm pumping breast milk. The main reason I do it is because I think it's good for the babies. I feel like I gave them the best I could for nine months and if I've got the resources and the ability to give them the best for a little bit longer then I should do that. It's like a parting gift.

I also have selfish motivations. I know pumping will help me take the baby weight off quicker and help to keep the post-partum hormones in check. I have to remind myself of those things several times a day. Every time I go to pump I have the urge to throw the whole contraption in the closet and never look at it again. Pumping is not my favorite thing. It's a hassle, it's uncomfortable and it involves the use of obscene looking plastic cones that I have to hide away whenever someone comes to the house because I don't want people seeing them and thinking "Her boobs were just in there!"

The babies are sucking down about 2 ounces a feeding now so I'm keeping it up. For now.

Baby Blues
I'm tired, I'm crabby and I occasionally burst into tears for absolutely no reason at all. Seriously. The other day I cried because my mom made me a pan of my favorite kind of brownies. The day before that I cried because Jesse told me a joke that I didn't think was funny and I felt guilty for not laughing. I'm slowly feeling a little bit better but everyone around me is praying for a quick end to the baby blues.

In Conclusion
I'm a little sad that this surrogacy is over. It was neat carrying two babies. There's a tiny part of me that wasn't ready to be done.

Mostly though I'm very happy. When I see the babies with their dads I am thrilled with the little part I had in helping to build their family. I'm proud of myself for making it to 37 weeks without any major problems. I'm happy to be back with my delightfully weird children. I'm excited to spend the summer in the garden and in my craft room. I'm looking forward to walking without pain and taking a deep breath without having to struggle.

Small post-partum complaints aside, life is good. I have nothing to complain about. (I just started crying as I typed that. *eye roll*)

A full set

On Wednesday I had an ob appointment and a level II ultrasound. All is well with the babies. They are measuring exactly on track for their age (21 weeks) and appear to have all the necessary parts.

On the left is a little boy who has had no problem making himself right at home. He's totally stretched out with his head way down low and his feet planted firmly up under my ribs.

Squished way up on the right side is a little girl who was suffering a little bit from her brother's room-hogging ways. She spent most of the ultrasound curled up tightly (with her ankles crossed demurely) and trying to fight for a little wiggle room. Don't worry about her too much though. Of the two she is the one who is far more active and I suspect that sooner or later she'll get her brother in his place.

All is well on my end too. The measurement of the thickness of my cervix impressed everyone. (4.6 centimeters? I guess that's good?) At 21 weeks pregnant I am measuring 30 weeks. I have just now gotten back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Everything I've read said a woman of my height and weight should gain between 30 and 40 pounds when pregnant with twins. I guess that means I get to spend the next 17 weeks or so eating nothing but chocolate cake. (I kid of course. I also plan on eating lots of cream based sauces and pasta.)

The guys were able to come to town for the ultrasound. They're beyond happy. Of course they mainly wanted to hear that they babies were healthy but they were also excited to be getting a boy and a girl. It's kind of nice how it's working out. A whole set in one shot. I'm very happy for them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to roll myself into the kitchen. There is a package of string cheese calling my name. The dairy addiction I have developed this pregnancy is insane. These kids are going to have bones of steel.

Three years ago I was eloquent.

The babies

On Monday my IF's (hereby known as A and D) flew into town so that they could come to my ultrasound. They came bearing gifts for the kids. My kids that is, not theirs. I don't even want to the about the logistics that would be involved with giving their children gifts right now. For Joseph they brought a Lego Empire State building, a gift that perfectly combines Joseph's loves of Legos and all things New York. For Elle they brought a stuffed dog that barks, perfectly combining her love of stuffed animals and all things that are annoying after you listen to them for 14 seconds. The kids are smitten.

On Tuesday morning the guys and I went to the clinic or the ultrasound. As soon as the ultrasound started we could see Baby B bouncing and wiggling around. Then Baby B took a rest while Baby A kicked it's legs and waved it's arms. It looked like it was tap dancing. Then we saw Baby B put it's arm up over it's face. I suspect that Baby B is a girl and she had gotten a hold of a copy of Fetal Cosmo where she had read that a good way to distract people from the fact that your head is as big as the rest of your entire body is to prominently display your arm bud.

If I was a super hero I would be the Golden Uterus. In spite of all the weight I've lost the babies look good and are measuring a little ahead of their actual age. Now that they're each nearly two inches long I'm no longer ashamed to admit that I've switched to maternity pants. Not that I was ever ashamed to admit it I guess but now when I tell people that I get fewer odd looks.

So that's that. The babies look good, we had a nice visit with A and D and I'm getting fat again. Not a bad update.

Three years ago today I broke my elbow. Sort of.

Sometimes I like to be wrong

For those of you who commented on yesterday's post suggesting I pee on a stick are a little late. I've peed on many sticks already. Many, many, many sticks. But we'll talk about my adventures in the woods another time.

For now let's answer the burning question you've come here to have answered. Am I pregnant? Well, if you didn't pick it up from yesterday's post and you don't follow me on facebook (for shame!) then you don't know the big news.

Yes, I am pregnant.

What a happy surprise. I honestly thought this batch of embryos was no good and that this transfer was not going to work. Way to be a positive thinker Jen. Good thing my sour attitude towards this was not the determining factor.

They guys are happy and excited. I'm happy and excited for them. I had told them a few days ago that I had gotten a positive pregnancy test but they were waiting for the official blood test results before they got too excited. Now they can celebrate for real.

As for me? Now I can breath a sigh for relief and wait for the answer to the next big question. How many of the little buggers are in there?

I like it better when no one knows me

When I signed on with my agency to be a surrogate a second time they asked me if I would consider being a surrogate for a famous person. They told me they had someone specific in mind for me to work with. I found the idea very exciting and said yes without even really thinking about it.

Of course plans changed and I didn't get matched with a famous person. Certain circumstances came up and I was matched with my current wonderful IFs. I really like my guys but for a while I was bummed out that I was going to miss out on the "adventure" of famous intended parents.

Now I'm not so sad any more. The surrogate that is carrying Sarah Jessica Parker's baby is a surrogate with my agency. She's been harassed by the "legitimate" media and by paparazzi. People who know her in real life are cashing in by selling tabloids juicy little tidbits about her life. Two sheriffs deputies broke into her house and tried to get information to sell to tabloids.

Yeesh. I'm glad the celebrity match never came to be. I think I'm happier with my adorable yet anonymous IFs.

On the other hand ... I just read that Neil Patrick Harris is also working with my agency. How fun would it be to have a baby for Doogie Howser?

One year ago today I posted the best video EVER.
Three years ago today I posted about teeth.
Four years ago today Joseph had a mole removed and I painted his toenails.

In the two week wait

So, yeah. I'm home. I have been since Saturday. I'm just to freaking tired to update. This second hormone is really kicking my butt. I can sleep for 12 hours and wake up feeling like I haven't slept at all. Also, it's making me grow a beard.

Aaaanyway. I'm back. The trip to LA was great. I had lots of fun hanging out with the guys and getting to know them better. We hung out by the pool together and ate Indian food together and watched House together and ate omelets together and all in all had a really nice time. And did I mention all the eating I did? Between dinners out and room service and snack boxes on the plane I feel like the entire trip was one big whirlwind of me cramming food into my face.

That's ok though, I'm eating for three now. Maybe. It depends on how many of the two embryos that were transferred decide to stick around. Maybe I am only eating for two. Maybe only for one. I don't know yet. I don't even know if I am pregnant at all yet. The two week wait sucks. I have a blood test on the 26th and I'm sure I'll take a dozen pregnancy tests before then but right now it's really too soon to know anything.

So I wait. And eat. And work (gently) in the garden. And play Mafia Wars on Facebook. And wait. And try to sneak in a nap here and there. And wait.

Two years ago today my last surrogacy was causing me some stress.
Four years ago today Joseph's imagination went into overdrive.

It's like blogging but more random

I don't have anything substantial enough to blog about so here are some random little snippets.

Elle has started saying "lasterday" instead of "yesterday". According to her everything happened lasterday. I hope she never stops saying it.

Jesse and I wnet out with friends on Saturday night. I put a dollar in the juke box and played "Shoop". I knew all the words so I sang along. It was awesome and shameful. But mostly awesome.

VH-1 has a lot of crappy programming but the worst show of them all might be Tool Academy. I hope that if instead of having a second season they have a new show for the women of Tool Academy and that they call it "Get Some Intensive Therapy So You Can Deal With Your Issues and Find Out What Would Cause You to Date Such an Asshole Academy". That said, I was glad Ashley and Tiny Tool won. I was rooting for them. And now I have to go stick my head in the microwave.

People who think using the U-turn on the Amazing Race is "shady" are stupid. It's part of the game and to not use take advantage of something that could help you win the game (or at least advance) isn't honorable. It's dumb.

I would kill for good sushi and/or Indian food.

I just sent my new IFs an email with a story about the problem with ice house robberies in Minnesota. I don't know why. I just like telling people random crap that they don't need to know about.

My surrogacy contracts are done and I could be getting a meds schedule as soon as Wednesday. We're cruising now!

Sometimes Jesse and I like to chat on Facebook when he's in the office and I'm in the living room with the laptop. The fact that we can hear each other typing as we "chat" amuses me to no end.

Today I found a little rock in my pocket and I have no idea how it got there.

I made it there, I can make it anywhere

I am home from New York. They guys were fantastic and I wanted to wrap them in puff pastry and bake them and gobble them up because that's what I do with things that I really love. Like brie.

It appears that the guys like me too because they told the case worker they would like to go forward with me. Woo hoo! I'm matched even though I never got around to getting my eyebrows waxed before we went to meet them. They like me in spite of the two large, friendly mammals that are living on my forehead.

New York is insane and I don't know how anyone lives there. The traffic is nuts, the people are nuts, the buildings are tall and nuts. It was fascinating and a great place to visit but there's no way I would want to live there. Although if you did live there then I guess you could spend a lot of time outside 30 Rock and maybe see Tina Fey and that would make it all worth it. I did not see Tina Fey while I was in New York so that was a little bit of a bummer. She could have walked right in front of me though and I wouldn't have noticed because I was too busy trying to look cool and non-touristy so that no one would approach me with some New Yorker scam and try to do something like sell me "sidewalk pass" or charge me a "breathing tax". It's hard to look cool and non-touristy though when you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring up and saying "The buildings are just so tall here! I have to take a picture!" over and over.

Anyway. Back to my main point. I am matched. The guys are great. They already have frozen embryos so there won't be any of this back and forth, waiting eight months to pick an egg donor stuff like last time. Can I get a woot?

No? You guys don't say woot? Fine. I still know you're happy for me.

Glue, acid, hot guys and necklaces

On Thursday Jesse and I will be going to New York to meet my new potential intended fathers (hereafter knows as the PIFs). We'll only be in New York for 24 hours or so and I intend to make the most of it. Rockefeller Plaza is a block or so away from out hotel so I'm going to walk over there first. Then I'm going to hang around outside for a bit and hope that the cast of 30 Rock notices and decides to make me their new best friend. Then I'll get some lunch. That's pretty much it.

What? I'm from a small town! I don't know how to make the most of a big city.

I'm super excited to meet the PIFs. Here's what I can tell you about them:

1. They have a dog.
2. They are smoking hot. No, seriously. It's a good thing they can't create a child together because if they did that child would be so dazzlingly beautiful that it would hurt to look at it.
3. They have a beach house.
4. Their dog is smoking hot. (I think that's because of osmosis. I hope that I'll become smoking hot by being around them too.)
5. Their beach house is not smoking hot but it is totally adorable and it has a pool.
6. They are not famous.

I only mention that last factoid because I was told I might be working with a celebrity couple this time but that didn't pan out because they only wanted a surrogate from California. That's ok. If I worked with a celebrity couple I couldn't say much about the whole thing and that would be hard for me since I like to tell everyone every little detail of my life.

In other news, I made a necklace last night. It was my first attempt at jewelry making. It took me 45 minutes and fell apart as soon as I picked it up. I am made of awesome and crafty.

In yet other news, today Joseph asked me "If poop is the grossest thing in the world, and acid is the most dangerous, would acid made of poop be the grossest most dangerous thing? And are drugs worse for you than poop acid?" Eight year old boys are the greatest.

In a final piece of news, I won some craft glue in a drawing today. (Thank you!) I think I was chosen as a winner* because when I entered I said that if I won I would use the glue to stick my children to the wall. I hope they don't hold me to that though because what I really want to do is use the glue to stick my new necklace directly to my skin. I think that will keep it from falling apart.

*I mistyped "winner" and spellcheck suggested "whiner" and "wiener" as what I meant to spell.

Did I say woot? Because I meant shoot.

Sometimes life is really annoying.

Remember when I was pregnant with A and J was a giant nervous wreck about everything? "The baby's heartbeat is normal? But could it be better? Would it be better if it was a little bit higher? What can we do to make it just a little bit higher?"

Her nervous wreckieness turned me into a nervous wreck. I dreaded the appointments that I knew he would be coming to because I was so afraid that some little thing would be wrong (or just not normal enough) and it would send him into a panic. I let it affect me too much.

J was at the last three appointments I had before A was born. At all three my blood pressure was high. Every other time when I would get my blood pressure taken it was fine. In fact, at one appointment when J was there the doctor re-checked my blood pressure halfway through the appointment and it was fine. The day before A was born my blood pressure was fine. Throughout labor it was fine. I never had any protein in my urine, never had any swelling (other than my rear end) never had any headaches. Other than those three high blood pressure readings I was fine.

Well guess what the RE who I was supposed to be going to has decided to focus on. Yeah. Those three numbers. Because of those three numbers he won't work with me. Since he won't work with me the agency won't work with me. Meaning? No surrogacy for me.

Fuck.

My one tiny ray of hope is my OB. I called him last night and explained the situation. He said he would be willing to write a letter saying that he feels it would be safe for me to get pregnant again. He said there's no reason at all I couldn't do this again and he's surprised the RE would even be concerned with those three numbers since they don't really tell the whole story. He's even having me come in for some lab work so that we can show that everything is functioning as it should.

I don't know if any of that is going to make any difference at all. The RE might dismiss everything my OB says and still say no to working with me. If that happens then I'm out of options. My chances of getting another agency to work with me after I've been turned down already are about 0%. Even if I could find one who's to say their RE would work with me? If this doesn't work then in all likelihood my surrogacy career is over.

All because of three fricken numbers.

Shoot.

Baby daddies

I got a letter today. Four months of medication, nine months of pregnancy, twelve hours of labor, twenty minutes of pushing, five months of legal wrangling and J&B and finally, officially, for real and forever little A's parents. His dads. A judge signed the order just a couple of days ago. It took a lot of money and a lot of time. Was it all worth it?

Oh yeah.

I'll trade you this baby for a video camera!

We had a really nice visit with J&B and their boys on Sunday. I explained how to get rid of cradle cap (J is afraid of scrubbing Little A's head too hard) and how to use a baby sling (J is worried that he'll drop Little A if he tries to use one). J&B offered to give us their old video camera. I would love to be in a financial position where I could be like "No! Seriously! Take this expensive piece of electronic equipment. It's just cluttering up the house anyway!" I got to hold A for a long time and he gave a bunch of great big smiles. Every time I would talk to him he would look at me very closely. J&B are convinced that A remembers my voice. That's kind of a neat/odd/crazy/cool idea. I wonder if it's true.

When we were getting ready to go I thanked them for offering us the video camera and J&B both said "Thank you for giving us A!" A passing waitress shot us a confused look and I wondered what she must have been thinking.

On a totally unrelated note, have you ever been in a situation where you're talking to someone you know really well (or maybe someone you just know casually) and out of the blue they make some really racist or homophobic remark and you don't even know what to say back because all you can do is stare at them and think "Wow. I didn't even know that you sucked like that"? I hate when that happens.

Lucky girl

I get to see little A next week. I'm really looking forward to getting in some good snuggle time. I'm really looking forward to seeing J and B again too. One wonderful and unexpected result of the surrogacy was how close I feel like we've all gotten. I didn't go into this expecting to make such good friends but I'm so happy it worked out this way.

I feel like I probably wasn't totally fair in the way I described J. Yes, he was often a nervous wreck but he was also (and continues to be) generous, kind, caring and concerned. Now that a little time has passed I'm really able to see that his nervousness was really just because he wanted the best for his baby. Using a surrogate means surrendering an enormous amount of control. I probably wouldn't be able to do it and all things considered, J actually handled things pretty well.

On Friday I got some nice pictures of A in the mail. A few of them were of him and I together the day after he was born. It meant so much to me to get those pictures and I'm so thankful that J and B are so willing to let me have them. They've both been so wonderful since A has been born. J and I talk on the phone fairly often and it's not unusual for us to talk for an hour at a time. I didn't think I was going to come out of this with such good friends and there were probably moments when I was pregnant J and I would have happily strangled each other but in the end it's all worked out so wonderfully.

I am a lucky girl.

Um, forget what I said

Forget what I said yesterday about not pumping anymore. On the advice of my commentors and an emailer and I doula/friend I am going to stop pumping gradually rather than go cold turkey. Of course that makes more sense, I just needed someone to point that out me.

For anyone who doesn't understand why J as acting this way about the whole thing, I have to say that I agree. I don't totally get it myself. I know that he likes the ideaof breast milk but I think the lack of an ingredient list is what makes him nervous. I've never in my whole life met someone so paranoid about toxins and contaminants. Let's not forget that this is the guy who didn't want me taking any pregnancy-approved, baby-safe stool softeners while I was pregnant. (I guess he prefered I just didn't poop for nine months.)

The thing is, I really like J. He's a nice guy. And now that A is here J and I have gotten a lot closer. Now that he doesn't have to be nervous about the whole pregnancy he and I have really become friends. There's no longer that tension that was caused by him always worrying that I might be doing something wrong and me always feeling like I wasn't being trusted. But now the breast milk has become something else for J to worry about and for me to feel bad about. So I still think it's time to stop. Just more slowly than I planned to.

B and I have always gotten along well but I've always had less contact with him than with J. Yesterday I got an email from B that had some pictures of A attachted*. The email was short. It just said "Thank you for giving life to A. We love him so much."

My heart jumped all over and remembered why I did all this and I decided it was all worth it.

*I've got a picture of A on my flickr account. You can check it out there but you have to be a contact of mine to see it. You can get to my flickr account by clicking on the pictures in the top of my sidebar.

Time to kick back and relax

It is done. I am all finished with pumping. I didn't go as long as I hoped to originally but it felt right to stop. It was starting to become a negative thing. J has expressed some nervousness about using the milk I already gave them and it was starting to affect me. Every time I would pump I would think "Are they even going to use this? Am I just wasting my time here?" I didn't want to start feeling bad or resentful about the whole thing so I decided to just go ahead and stop.

J has expressed to me several times how grateful he is for the milk (and I believe him) but at the same time I think he's not totally comfortable using it. One day he gave some to A and he thought it made him really sleepy so he called to ask me if there way anything in the milk that would have done that. Of course there wasn't and I tried to reassure him of that but I could tell that he was still not convinced. Not that I think he thinks there really was something wrong with the milk. I just think that he fears the unknown (or at least the uncertain) and he probably prefers to use formula because he knows what's in it and he knows that it's always the same. With breast milk he probably worries that I might have had something to eat or drink that would make A sleepy or gassy or something.

It's still a little bit of a letdown for me because I know that there are parents out there who are desperate to get breast milk for their babies but who just don't have the access to it. The choice that J is making is not the one that I would make for my own child. The beauty of it is though that A is not my child and in the end I really don't have to worry about it. I can feel good knowing that I pumped about 1000 ounces of breast milk for A and I got him off to the very best start that I could have.

I guess if I was really committed I could become a milk donor to someone else and try to finish out the two month commitment that I made to myself. I don't think I have it in me though. Pumping for A was (as corny as this will sound) sort of an act of love and if I'm done with that situation then I probably just need to be done altogether. I'm ok with that. It didn't go exactly the way I wanted it to but I can deal with that. Everything else about this has been so good that I don't want to cry over a little spilt milk. (Haha, I'm so funny!)

Yesterday I got my final comp check from my agency. This surrogacy is really and truly done. I have no doubt that I will continue to have a relationship with B and J and A (J told me the other day that I'm like a member of the family) but now it's time to look forward to the the next step. All the research I've done on various agencies has pretty much led me back to the agency I was already with. I suppose in some ways it's better to stick with the devil you know.

But for tonight I'm going to kick back, relax, have a few glasses of wine and try not to let my massively engorged boobs brush up against anything because son of a bitch, these puppies hurt.

If it comes out of my boobs it's mine forever

On Sunday Jesse and I went with the kids to go and visit with J and A. (B and Little B were home sick with the flu.) The main point of the visit was to drop off the 500 or so ounces of bresatmilk I had for little A. The other purpose of the visit was, of course, lots of cuddle time.

It was so neat to see A looking like a real baby and not just a squishy, raisiny newborn. he slept the entire time we were together but that didn't stop me from snuggling him and kissing him and soaking in as much of his new-babyishness as possible.

It's hard to describe how I feel about A. There's really nothing else I can compare it to. It feels so good to see him and to know that I helped to bring him here. It's a really awesome feeling and I really don't have the words to describe it. That's why I'm just now writing about this visit that happened on Sunday. I've been trying to find the right words to decribe the visit and I just can't.

J was thrilled with the milk and he thanked me many, many times. As I was giving him the run-down on how to store and thaw the milk J said something to the effect of still giving A formula at night so that he would sleep longer. I came thisclose to saying "No. Give him the breastmilk at night too."

I caught myself in time and didn't say it but the fact that it even occured to me to say it at all took my by suprise. I mean, A is not my child and it honestly would never occur to me to question the way J and B raise him. So why would I think it would be ok to tell J what to feed A?

After thinking about it for a while I figured it out. It's not about A and my feelings for him. It's about my feelings for that damned breastmilk. That stuff is hard won and I want it used to it's full potential. I put too much blood, sweat and tears into getting that milk for it to not be taken advantge of. It's not secret that I think breastmilk is superior to formula so I wonder why in the heck J would want to give A something not as good when he as access to the real deal.

Oh well. It's all good. It continues to be all good. I'm just happy that A is doing well and J and B are happy with their son. I can't complain about something as minor as what A eats at night. I did learn something about myself though. Apparently if it comes out of my vagina you're welcomed to have it. If it comes out of my boobs then I claim ownership of it forever.

What will make me cry today?

Ugh, I forgot what a kick in the pants post-partum hormones are. I'm so weepy! Poor Jesse keeps coming across me crying and when he asks what's wrong it's always something like "There's a hairball in the shower drain!" or "I forgot to put salt on my corn!" or "Elle stopped using a sippy cup!"

The other day my mom came over to drop off some dinner (because she is the best mom ever and is making dinner for us for every night for a whole week) and I answered the door in tears. She asked what was wrong and the best answer I could give her was "The toilet isn't flushing right!"

I'm a mess.

But I'm not really. Really I'm feeling pretty good. Sometimes I feel so good that that makes me cry. If I start to think too much about the birth I start to get weepy with happiness.

Yesterday I talked on the phone with J and he just went on and on about how much I mean to him and B and how they can never thank me enough for what I've done and how their whole family is so thankful. Finally I had to cut in and say "J, yesterday I cried over a toilet that wouldn't flush right. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"

I was a big pile of blubbery goo by the time we got off the phone. It was a good kind of blubbery goo. Much better than the pile of goo I was turned into by watching a former porn star/drug addict do ballet. Damn you Celebrity Rehab.

It's all good

I was not exepcting to be sitting down and writing out a birth story this soon (I thought I would still be pregnant at this point!) but little A is here and I could not be happier about it. I don't have any pictures to post because I want to respect my IFs privacy but trust me, he is a beautiful boy.

I had to be at the hospital at 5 AM to get the induction going. I got about 2 hours of sleep the night before because I was just a bundle of nerves. Unfortunatly the hospital screwed up the order for my pitocin so they didn't even get hooked up until nearly 8. They hooked me up and I dozed off until around 9 when I was able to start feeling contractions. Jesse and I played cards until my doula (Jen) got there at about 10. Then the three of us played cards for the next half hour or so before my contractions suddenly got a lot more intense.

My doc checked me and decided to go ahead and break my water at that point. Contractions really got a lot stronger then and all of the sudden I couldn't keep still. I would sit on the birthing ball for a minute then I wanted to walk around then I wanted to lean over the bed then I wanted to go back on the ball. My IFs got there just as the nurse was telling me either I had to sit still or they were going to have to put internal monitors on me because they kept losing track of the baby with the external monitor. Also, for some reason the monitor wasn't picking up my contractions even though I was having them big time.

I agreed to the internal monitor and it's a good thing I did. As soon as we got it hooked up we saw that the baby's heartbeat was dropping with each contraction. They turned off the pit thinking that he might not be tolerating it and that might be what was causing the deceleration. Almost right away my contractions were half as painful as they had been on the pit. It was heavenly. Jen had me change positions a few times thinking that maybe the baby's umbilicl cord was getting pinched and that's what was causing the drop in heartrate. She was right because all of the sudden his heartbeat was steady and fine. The bad news was that the pit got turned back on because my contractions were becoming more erratic. As soon as the pit was back on the contractions went back up in intensity.

The next few hours were kind of a blur. I labored in the tub for a bit but I didn't really like that. I spent a lot of time leaning over the bed while my amazing doula rubbed my back and my amazing husband held my hands and kept telling me over and over how proud he was of me. My IFs would pop in every so often to see how I was doing but I think it made them a little nervous to see me in so much pain. I was so glad that they were comfortable enough with letting me labor on my own without feeling the need to check in every three seconds. I think B is a good calming influence on J so it made a big difference that he was there.

Around 4 I finally caved in and asked for some IV pain meds. I'm so glad I did! I was having really, really intense, painful contractions every 3 minutes but I somehow managed to doze off in between them. I would kind of sleep for a couple of minutes then then a contraction would start and right away Jesse would jump up to hold my hand and Jen would rub my back. They did this for every single contraction I had for two hours. I don't think I would have made it through without them. I was so out of it that I kept wanting to tell them stuff but I couldn't really seem to make my mouth work. Several times I wanted to try to describe to them the funky dreams I was having but I couldn't make the words come out.

Remember that this is only my second birth and my first without an epidural so I really didn't know what to expect when it came time to push. All I know is that all of the sudden it went from "Is it ever going to be time to push this baby out?" to "Holy cow! It's time to push this baby out!". My IFs were called into the room and I started pushing. I mostly kept my eyes closed but at one point I looked around and was amazed at how many people were in the room. Me, Jen, Jesse, my doctor, a nurse, a student nurse, my IFs, a baby nurse, a student baby nurse, a student paramedic (maybe two even) and a guy with a mop. Ok, maybe not the guy with a mop but the rest of them were in there.

I pushed for about 20 minutes and holy crap, they are not kidding when they refer to it as "The ring of fire" are they? I was not aware of it at the time but the baby's heartbeat really dropped at the end and the doctor ended up giving me an episeotomy (something I had hoped to avoid) to get the baby out quicker. Little A came out with his cord wrapped around his neck but as soon as it was undone he was ok. The doctor tried to lay him on my tummy but I said no, to give him to his dads. A weighed in at 7 pounds 6 ounces and was 19 inches long.

The doctor started stitching me up and I was watching over his shoulder as my IFs held their new little boy. Jesse was holding my left hand and Jen was holding my right and I just sank back in bed and said "Oh, it's all good". (I'm getting weepy typing this out.) I was so happy to see my IFs with their son, I was so happy to be done with the labor, I was so proud of myself for doing it without the epi, I felt so much love and support from Jesse and Jen. I know it sounds cheesy but at that moment everything was just so good and so wonderful and so right.

The rest of my hospital stay was nice. It was nice to rest and get real sleep at night. I got tons and tons of cuddle time with A. We tried nursing but didn't have much success. J, being his typical nervous self, was worried that he wasn't getting enough to eat so he pretty much stuffed him full of formula around the clock. He would bring him to me to nurse with formula still still on his face. That was a little bit of a let down but it was still nice to hold him and be close to him. He's a really cute baby, looks a lot like his daddy. When it was time to say goodbye I really wasn't sad at all. I was suprised at how "ok" I really was. I was mostly just looking forward to getting back home with my own babies.

I'm so happy with how everything went. I admit I had pretty big expectations but everything really went even better than I could have hoped for. Now I'm just concetrating on resting and recovering (because I really did forget how sore you are after giving birth) and pumping (I'm up to about 5 ounces a session). Jesse has off from work until Monday so I really get to take it easy for a couple more days.

Hormones are making me weepy but I don't want to cry in front of anyone because I don't want anyone to think I'm sad. I'm not sad, I just find myself crying for no reason several times a day. It only lasts a minute or two and then I feel better but I'll be glad once my hormones kind of come back under control. I worry that people are going to think the wrong thing.

Anyway, I suppose this had been long enough. I need to go take a bath. Doctors orders.