It may be time, or way past time, to talk about the number one question from anyone and everyone I have come in to contact with throughout this surrogacy journey; How am I doing now.
The short answer? Good! And how are YOU doing?
But I know that no one will just take that and go. Dammit.
Me? I’m doing good! Great! And I have been, from day one. P-Daddy stayed here near me with his little ones for a full three weeks. I got to see them almost every day. I got to change diapers, sniff baby heads, hold hands, look at faces, and marvel at their perfection in tiny packages. I got to watch them meet their grandmother for the first time. I got to watch their daddy give their first bottle. I got to see him snuggle and sniff, all on his own. So when it was time to usher the group to the airplane… I also got to watch them go home. Home, the goal of this whole journey; to get the new family home. I dropped and “ran”, not lingering at the airport. And I had a wee little weep in the car in the parking lot as I sat and waited for their plane to fly away. Not a sad weep, but tears acknowledging the change in my life. No longer a surrogate. No longer carrying or caring for those two little darlings. And if I’m being completely honest ( which, might as well. It’s only the Internet, ha ha…) no longer special. Yes, a part of the draw and passion for surrogacy is fueled by that feeling of being special. Of being able to do what many can’t. And when that new family got on that airplane? For a second I became just a pudgy lady, blotchy faced sitting in her car, and that’s about it. So I had a tiny weep. And got over it. Everyone is entitled to a “poor me” moment, and that was mine. Came out of no where, and left just as quickly.
I read so many surrogacy blogs. I really thought I was prepared for that moment; prepared for life after surrogacy. And I wasn’t, not at all. But not in the way you’re thinking. I just……. went back to my life. I wasn’t sad, not how I though I’d be. I didn’t have a second of depression or regret. If anything, it solidified my decision to not have any more children of my own. I get pictures a few times a week. I hear from P-Daddy on our surrogacy support forum just as often. I dont’ miss them. OK, that’s a lie, I miss them. But I don’t miss them being my responsibility. I don’t miss feeling like I need to share my time with them like I did in those weeks after their birth. I didn’t realize how bitter sweet that time was until it was passed. I wouldn’t change a second of it, but I didn’t really stop being “pregnant” until they left. And yet… I feel like I’m expected to be upset. I’m somehow supposed to be sad and pining for them. The other surrogates I read, they had those moments. A little postpartum, moments of sadness. I didn’t get any of that and I feel like in some ways I’m judged for it. Like I’m lesshuman; like my ability to love is somehow flawed because it was so easy to do; “give them up”. And oh my gosh was it easy. And it’s not because I don’t love them. I do, all three of them in a most unexpected way. It’s just that… well that’s how it’s supposed to end, right? The new family goes home? So I wasn’t sad to see the ending be just exactly how it should be. I feel like I’m judged. Damned if you do feel all sad and weepy because ohmygawd who wants to feel sad? But if you don’t feel sad…….. heartless. “I could never give the baby away” is the most common response to surrogacy. So because I could, (and rather easily!) there must be something wrong with me. Defective. I must just be money hungry and don’t give a care about the child at all. Because if I cared… I’d be sad, right? I mean, what can I say about that? So I’ve said nothing. No posts for weeks, blog silence. I don’t know what to say because I know the answer I’ve got isn’t what you’re looking for. And I feel like my answer lessens me in your eyes. Look, it was easy. It was magical and perfect and life changing and EASY. Will it be that way for everyone? Hell no. I’m absolutely positive my journey was perfect simply because of how incredible P-Daddy is. He gave me all the time I wanted, all the time I needed, with his daughters. Gladly, and with a generous heart. He made *me* a part of the whole journey from the first. I wasn’t a womb, I wasn’t an employee. I felt, from the beginning, like a friend. So when my friend had to go home with his girls, I was sad.. but also totally excited for him! He finally gets to show off his daughters to *his* real world! His family and friends, all eagerly waiting for him back home!
I like being me. I like just being wife and mom. That’s my real world. So how am I doing? Great! Life is good, my children are rowdy, my house is messy, my husband is randy, my pants are tight, and I love every second of it. Easiest thing in the world; watching those girls go home with their daddy. It was like the fireworks at the end. Beautiful, breathtaking, wondrous, magical. And then it’s over, and you’re SO happy to have seen the fireworks, but it’s also nice to go back inside and crawl into your own bed. Fireworks are only magical because they end. If we saw them all the time, where would the wonder be? So Ava and Amelia are my fireworks. I get glimpses of them every now and then, and every time they take my breath away. But when the fireworks are over? I’m surrounded by home, and all of the people that make me who I am that make my life as beautiful and wondrous as it is, all on it’s own.