Fate's voice

This the the third part of my surrogacy story, for previous posts click here.


Sometimes fate is quite, as in the magazine sitting in the mother's room waiting for me to discover it, other times fate has a loud voice. The voice came in the form of an Australian accent reaching out through the line with reassurance. The voice belonged to a women named Eleni. She was and still is a wonderful talker; she provided this aura of calm about her. (This calmness will ultimately be the biggest blessing of all, unknown to myself at the time). I'm not sure where Eleni was when this conversation happen, but I remember that I was in my backyard, sitting on blanket in the grass, watching my baby play, knowing that she too wanted nothing more than to be doing the same thing across the world.


Of course, the answer was 'yes'. I wanted nothing more than to be her surrogate, but in my head, as I think in many surrogates, my ideal relationship would be to give birth to a couple that did not yet have children, Eleni already had two. Some people would think, why go to all that trouble to have another child, why not be happy with what you have been blessed with. But then, who was I to decide who should and should not have children. It was not my decision, I knew then that this must be part of their journey to have their children, that our paths are now intertwined.


Eleni and her family had already planned a trip to the states and a transfer (IVF) would be centered around these dates, this meant that we basically needed to start cycling within a month or so. The contracts were to be emailed quickly, my lawyer needed to review these just as quickly, and medication was to be started. It went so quickly that many of the details do slip my mind, I can't quite remember how long it was from our first conversation on the phone to the contracts, to starting meds, but I do remember that everyone considered it 'moving fast' from the agency to the fertility clinic (RE).

There is one question that most people either want to ask me and think
that it's too impolite to, or do ask but of course, add in a general; 'you don't
have to answer if you don't want to. The question is; 'did I get paid to be a
surrogate?'. The answer is, of course. Most surrogates would prefer you call it
compensated as it is then not considered taxable income, it's viewed as
pre-birth child support. How much was I compensated? You can look that up, I'm a very average surrogate.

As I've written previously, I would have loved to have been a surrogate
for a couple that I was friends with at the time, but this didn't happen. I was
fully aware of all that can and sometimes does go wrong with pregnancies. I was
not going to subject my family to these trials without being compensated for, at
this point, strangers. Many surrogates also point out that agencies get money,
REs get money, doctors get money, why not surrogates? To this, I'm not giving
you an answer, just simply a statement from some surrogates.

When the package from the RE clinic arrived, I opened the box and my heart just sunk. The inside contents scared me, there was probably 50 subcutaneous needle,several tiny vials of lupron, a 'sharps' container, a bio-hazard bag, a bottle of estrace tablets, and probably 150 rather large bullet shaped progesterone suppositories. I cried at the thought of intentionally poking myself and I watched the how-to video so many times, my eyes burned.


The first time I gave myself a lupron shot, I broke out in a cold sweat, my vision blurred, I lost my ability to walk and my ears started ringing. I crawled up the steps to get my husband's attention and just laid on the carpet until it went away. I'm embarrassed about that today, they are tiny shots, I think I must of hit a nerve, physically and emotionally. After that day, each shot got better. I took lupron for 14 days. At the same time I started estrace pills. On the day that I got the call, that Eleni's egg retrieval had happened, I started the progesterone suppositories. Lupron was the the worst, but the progesterone suppositories were a very close second. I had to 'use' them twice a day and they leaked, horribly. I had what you can only describe as a 'diaper rash' in the nether region for what seemed like forever.


But that was it. I was suppose to be ready. I sat on a plane on the runway of Toronto's airport from my evening flight from Minneapolis. I looked out the window, thinking that tonight is when I'll be meeting Eleni and her family for the first time, then in the following days, we're hoping to be pregnant with their child. I remember being amazed that my life had brought me to this moment, finally, and scared beyond words.

Part four

Power of prayer. Believe in miracles and let it become one, for a fellow blogger who has affected me tremendously, Emilie

big ideas

I've thought about my previous post, how Henry plays with 'boy' toys. I feel like I should expand on that, he doesn't actually play with any toy in the fashion that it was intended. At Thanksgiving, when his preschool teacher asked him what he was thankful for, he simply stated "I'm thankful for my big ideas". This is what she shared with us during his first conference, this is what she said 'summed him up' and I couldn't agree more.

Henry is my little engineer; his favorite toy store is Home Depot. His room is full of empty toilet paper rolls, air ducting pipes, wood trim pieces, plastic plumber tubing. His biggest dream would be to make the world longest conveyor belt, which must actually work. Believe me, it must be working as we (umm, mostly DH) have tried several times to no avail to make this 'dream' come true. Even today, he told me that he was going to ask for a conveyer belt from Santa.

Soon, after a long winter's hiatus, our backyard will yet again have a pulley that extends from our play-set to the top of our screened in porch, a mere 20 feet long. Under our porch, we have rocks that are transported from there to the top of the slide and down (to DH's dismay).

Part of the anti-supermom in me wants to scream 'look at this trash; your room is a mess', 'the living room is full of junk', and 'what will the neighbors think of our backyard' but a bigger part of me is so proud of this creative little boy. I have to remind myself this is what childhood is for.

The newest game, Henry bowling

My Products

When Henry was first born, we did what many parents do, presented him with a few, wonderful, gender neutral toys. He played with each as well as infants can; chewing on them and pushing them around. He went on to more interesting things such as; remotes, cable wires, stereo buttons. When he crawled over to a Fischer Price school bus with animals in the windows he automatically started saying 'vroom, vroom' or making similar 'car' noises. This astounded me, we had never taught him this. We also never taught him to prefer 'boy' toys over 'girl' toys, but this is exactly what he did. Sure, we have a kitchen, a baby doll (that he will occasionally sleep with) and other 'girl' toys, but all in all he loves his boy toys.

I have no question that Wyatt is completely a product of his environment. He knew how to shake up those shake'n'go cars before he knew how to crawl. He will 'wrestle' with his brother laughing the entire way it takes him to army crawl over to get Henry. He shovels spaghetti and peas into his mouth and loves to be the loudest screamer in the room. (Yes, this is a favorite game for my child care family to do during lunch).

I've watched only boys now for two years, so this is what I know. Perhaps, I'm a product of my little people environment too. So I had to laugh at myself when this anti-supermom told her husband 'look at this video, Wyatt's screaming like a girl'!

The interviews

This is part 2 of my surrogate story. If you would like to catch up, you will find part 1 here.

My application was handed out to couples that had hired the agency to find a surrogate for them. Though many believe (myself included) that this process would be equal in that I would be handed just as many potential parents' applications, this was not the case. It took only a few weeks for me to get my first phone call. They had a 'lovely couple in France' that they would love to set up a telephone conversation with. The time difference was taken into consideration, I arranged for my husband to be on the line during this conversation, and we all looked forward to speaking with each other.

The conversation began as awkward as you can imagine. There was the coordinator of the agency introducing each other, the owner of the agency who happened to be a lawyer, then the husband from France (who's wife didn't speak any English) and then my husband and myself. The coordinator starting walking each of us through my application talking about points and asking if there was questions. We seemed to pretty much be on the same page, until it came to selective reduction.

The conversation was no, he would not want to reduce the number of babies, if I were willing to carry one, two or three (with the possibility of one splitting). It was my body to chose to carry that many children. The conversation delved deeper, what if abnormalities became an issue. His answer, absolutely abort, we do not want to take care of a mongol (which is what many French referred to as a child with Down Syndrome). My husband and I shared with him about my husband's uncle having Downs and being one of the happiest people we had known. We also shared with him that we would adopt the child if this were to happen, as the chances of this would be very slim, but we would be certainly willing. He answers we cannot put that burden on another family. With that, the lawyer cut in and decided we probably would not make a good match. He would pass the phone to the coordinator to discuss where each of us would go from here. With a click of the line, the phone went dead and I didn't hear again from the agency for three months.

I had decided that you probably cannot be a surrogate without allowing parents the choice to selectively reduce. I understood where other surrogates were coming from, it's the intended parents' child(ren), it's their family's future at stake, but it is also my body. An agency that would allow me this choice seemed impossible. I decided I must have to take a different road to get to this 'path' I really desired to take.

I put an ad though a message board on surrogate mothers online. I decided that I would not work with an agency and instead go independently in finding a couple. My ad had several response, which relinquished my heart that not all intended parents wanted to selectively reduce. One woman's response, Deborah caught my eye and we chatted online. She wanted another child to add to her current family. We decide to talk on the phone.

The conversation went very smooth, we agreed on all points, had a real conversation just myself and her. In the end she asked me if I wanted to work with her and I said 'yes'.

The next step for all involved is the contract. Obviously, this is mandatory before taking any steps to becoming pregnant with another person's embryos. She said that she would get the contract to me with all the legalities from her state to my own typed up and emailed to me within two weeks. Two weeks had passed, she then told me about this happening, that happening and it would be another week. I gave her exactly a week. When the contract didn't arrive I contacted her quietly through an email that I 'wasn't the surrogate for her'.

I want to take a step back to say that not all relationships start off so business-like, many people are good friends. I would have loved to have been a surrogate for a dear friend, but I just didn't know of anyone that was that far into infertility. I couldn't even think about how to start this line of conversation. I ended my relationship with Deborah because this (missing deadlines) was a major red flag. She essentially was still a stranger that I only yet had potential for becoming friends.

This now comes to where three months has passed since the agency has contacted me, where they left me on the line, literally hanging. The coordinator left a message on my phone that 'they now have the perfect couple. I responded that I was left for three months, dropped with no information and was choosing to go independent. My agency responded with a quick 'oh, I see'. Several hours later I was contacted by the owner of the agency (again remember a lawyer) who told me that all the testing that they have paid for would not be able to used for an independent surrogacy. He went on about other things they have invested in me. In the end of his conversation, he asked me to talk to this couple. Just see. So I did.

Part three

my first 80 hours

I volunteer on Wednesday nights for an unnamed hospital in General Medicine. Tonight, I reached my first 80 hours of volunteering, the equivalent of say your first two weeks on the job. I will not lie to you, my 'job' is not a particularly exciting one. I do not rush into a patient's room, crash cart in hand assisting the nurses and aides in bringing someone back to life. No, my real duties are filling patient's drawers with hygiene products, helping the HUCs (health unit coordinators) with paperwork, clean the IV poles and returning them to the sanitizing area, and putting together packets for newly admitted patients.

My most memorable moment yet is wheeling a dear woman through the three wings of the floor for an hour and a half. My job was to keep her busy until she fell asleep since she wouldn't stay in her bed, was at a risk of falling and believed that she was indeed at home in her apartment with new 'neighbors'. Obviously, her memory failed her often, so each time we went to a new wing, it was like she has never been there where in fact it is a hospital and each wing looks almost exactly as the one next door. When we wheeled by the front desk, a new vase of flowers had been brought up. I suggested that we stop and smell the flowers. Her reaction to the flowers was genuine and beautiful. She was so child-like and happy to just be there smelling those flowers.

It is most often that there is elderly people on the floor, this is the way it should be. When I see someone young, my age or around this, on the census it strikes me. I'm curious why they are there, what kind of health are they in, do they have visitors sitting with them? So tonight, I have decided to stop and smell my flowers. I thank God that today I am healthy. I thank God that if I weren't I would have my husband and children with me making me smile with each breath and fighting to become healthy for them and for myself. I thank God that today I was able to have Henry crawl into my lap and rest his head there for a few minutes and that today I was able to kiss Wyatt's bleeding lip over and over as he yet again attempts to stand up on his own.

Today, my flowers are beautiful!

A candidate

A fine fellow-blogger Marketing Mama has asked me to share something about becoming a surrogate. Since my story took two years to unfold, I will share this story in parts.

In a previous life, I had a job as an Assistant Technical Designer, then a Technical Designer for a Minneapolis-based retailer. On one no-day-in-particular, I was in that special room called the Mother's Room pumping for my then six month-old son. I was holding the cups with one hand and flipping through magazines with the other. (This was before I discovered that lovely hands-free expression bra). I was never prepared enough to bring my own magazines, so I usually just had to settle for what was within tube distance.

A May 2004 issue of Parents came to the top, I flipped though until an article caught my attention. In short, it was about a woman who simply went to a hairstylist, was asked by the stylist as women often are 'if she had any children?'. This question brought emotion as the woman discussed the trials they have gone through to try and have a baby. By the end of the discussion, the hairstylist decided that she wanted to have a baby for this woman , a woman she just met. She said "Nine months isn't a long time to give a gift like that."

That was it. That sentence became my mantra. I knew that I wanted to be a surrogate. I knew that I could make a change in this world by giving the world this little human being.

I started researching surrogacy immediately. I found a website for what seemed to be the biggest and best surrogacy agency in the nation and quickly asked for an application. The three questions that all agencies will ask were asked: are you under 35 years of age? are you married? have you had child(ren) of your own? In my experience, you must answer 'yes' to all three. With my 'yes'es, the application was promptly mailed.

The application itself was extensive. I had to hand-write answers from all biological questions of myself and my family, to more personal questions about why I wanted to do this, how would I deal with this situation, would my family be supportive. I answered each question as heartfelt as I could. In the end, I was sent a rejection later stating that 'their clients want to have the choice on whether to selectively reduce the number of embryos or not'. I'm Christian, I would not choose to abort a baby/babies under any circumstances. My heart was broken, perhaps surrogacy was not something I could do and keep my values.

Several months had passed, but I found myself talking about this experience with strangers, with anyone who would listen looking for some direction. Ultimately, I decided that if I was still yearning for this experience, it was meant to be part of my plan. I started researching agencies again. I then found an agency in the Minneapolis area. I called before I filled out anything, finding out their position. I was encouraged to fill out an application. I delivered this application in person.

I was accepted. I then began the really long process. I contacted my health insurance provider to make sure their was no surrogacy exclusions. I contacted the hospital to get my ob/gyn records and my labor and delivery records. I contacted my ob/gyn to get tested for countless things they might want surrogates to be tested for; I only remember it being 8 vials of blood total. I contacted the psychologist to schedule a meeting and to take a MMPI.

In the end, I was now a candidate, waiting for the perfect soon-to-be family to look upon my application and just knowing that I was the surrogate that they have been looking and praying for.


Part two

Changing Times

I graduated high school from a speck of a town in Iowa. I graduated college feeling myself like a speck, but that's another story. In high school, I was involved in everything; from band, to choir, to plays, to cheerleading, to student council, to flags, I'm sure there are other things I'm forgetting, I should reference my yearbook, after all it's only 30-some pages long. I graduated with 52 students. My high school gave me so much opportunity to discover who I am that I will forever be grateful, but it also gave me an unique perspective on education. In high school, my physical education teacher nicknamed me 'Buns'. I distinctly remember my mathematics teacher having a poster in his room saying "36-24-36, I like those numbers!". I've heard that in recent years that the current principal of this high school is paid at a daily rate because she will not sign a contract keeping her there if 'something better comes along'.

This post isn't about myself, but I intended to talk about my son. My sweet four-year-old son who I am now preparing him for his state mandated Early Childhood Screening. This screening is a pre-requisite for enrolling him into a lottery to attend a public Spanish Immersion elementary school, where his chances of getting in will probably be less than 50% by next year. On top of this, he will be attending preschool four days a week come September with the option of attending Fridays, all-day.

I think that I will have to cherish as many moments that I can from his childhood (like Henry first learning to write him name) before he gets smarter than myself. At this rate, this anti-supermom will be saying "ask your Dad" by the time Henry reaches fourth grade!