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Another season has passed. A very merry and joyous Christmas to my beautiful surrogate families. I love you all so much!
24 Monday Dec 2012
13 Monday Feb 2012
She is a 36yr old CRNA (certified registered nurse anesthetist)
He is a 34yr old Graphic Designer
They live in Portland, Oregon and are seeking a surrogate. Preferrably experienced but they are pretty open to the “right” match. Three years ago She found out she had cervical cancer and had a hysterectomy. They harvested eggs cause they weren’t sure if they were taking her ovaries or not, they didnt. Her sister was going to be her surrogate, the day before their first RE appointment her sister found a lump on her breast that turned out to be cancer. So her sister had a double mastectomy.
They are a wonderful fun loving, easy going couple that is looking for the perfect match. They love the outdoors and are very active, they have no kids currently but want kids very much. They would reduce from 3 to 2, which I ( the submitter) am not personally comfortable with.
They really are a great deserving couple. Having your own insurance would be a big plus. Their eggs are ready to go and they are hoping to get things rolling as soon as possible.
They prefer to go independent and avoid the hassle of an agency. They prefer a surrogate that lives closer to them or at least near the west coast. So if you know anyone or you are interested, comment or message me and I will get you their contact information.
22 Tuesday Mar 2011
Posted Life After Surrogacy, surrogacy
inWell, I lived! And it sucked! And a week later it still sucks! And I whine a LOT. Quick bullets before I literally pass out:
* My mom was there at the hospital!! I didn’t know I’d want her there. Didn’t know I needed her there. But she knew, and she was there, and that was more awesome than I have words for. I will always need my mommy.
* The anestheseologist is a lier, I think. He came in a few seconds before they wheeled me back and promised promised that he’d put some big anti-nausea stuff in me when they finished surgery so that wouldn’t be a worry… but
* I was in recovery for two and a half hours because I couldn’t stop throwing up. Totally foggy, just remember exasperated nurses saying “she’s throwing up again” and ” there’s quite a bit of blood in this vomit”. Lucky for my, that is such a hazy, foggy memory.
*Mom. In my room when they wheeled me out of recovery.
*OMFG. There aren’t enough acronyms. As I came out of my fog, the hurt started to set in. As the hurt set in, pain meds are offered. As pain meds are administered, the nausea sets in, again. As the nausea sets in, anti-nausea meds are offered. While the anti-nausea meds are administered, no eating is allowed. I haven’t had a bite to eat since SUNDAY. Since I am literally starving, I am nauseous, beyond the meds. Do you see where the problem comes in?
* It was late Wednesday morning before I was offered a fucking saltine cracker after begging begging begging. I got my cracker, and all was better.
*Still not able to take pain meds because of the nausea.
*Ten thousand feet of gauze packing is removed from my much abused lady bits Wednesday morning. To say that didn’t feel good would be the biggest understatement ever uttered. Catheter removed at the same time. Ditto the comfort level.
*Try to pee an hour later, it’s a no
*Try an hour after that, get a tiny dribble. Belly ultrasound shows my bladder is “dangerously ful”l (?) and am cathed again to drain it. It was a lousy 560 ml, and I know I have a 700+ capacity. Not dangerously full, but whatever.
*diligently get up at least every hour to try to pee to avoid being cathed again because dammit, that hurts. It was literally an hour before discharge time before I was successfully able to empty more than 50% of my bladder ( those little measuring ultrasound thingies are magic!). I *think* I’m doing much better now, but how would I know? Pitfalls of a large bladder and cystocele repair.
* Blessed with one night of Toradol on Wednesday night, and I actually sleep and DON’T vomit. Yay me. They don’t want to dose me any more nor send me home with any because of the risks to your kidneys? Which confuses me since that’s what was prescribed to me when I had kidney stones? Anyhoodle….
* I have five holes in my belly ( that they glued shut, and good gawd is that irritating now, and one of them was apparently stitched AND glued, found the stitches last night when some of the glue flaked off), one on my pubic bone, one on each labia, and a monster of an incision on my perineum. I am also the worlds most delusional fool, thinking it’d feel like “some cuts on my belly and an episiotomy, piece of cake.” I would rather go in for monthly episiotomies than deal with a rectocele repair again. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. And I don’t think there is any comparison for the sore belly you get from a laparoscopic surgery…. I’m sure many of you’ve been there before and know what I’m talkin’ ’bout. Also, shoulders still ache from manipulations in surgery and surgical belly gas stuff settling in the muscles.
*My uterus is gone. They chopped it up and pulled it out of my belly button.
* I have had zero vaginal bleeding. I’m one of the lucky ones. Doc says I’ll probably never have any kind of bleeding again. I did keep my cervix and it is possible to have a moment of spotting monthly, but he’s thinking I’m not one of those people. Woo hoo.
* It has been a week and I still feel like complete shit. SHIT. I whine, I’m a whiner, but I usually get over things pretty quickly. This is not quickly. Two hours after I get up for the day I need to go take a nap. I usually end up taking yet another freakin nap in the afternoon. Emptying the dishwasher feels like running a marathon. I haven’t done shit for my kids aside from filling up the crock pot, my night in shining armor husband has just been magical at keeping them entertained and quiet. My mom came home with us and stayed through Sunday, and that was amazing, but it’s been a WEEK. I’m sick of not having the chutzpah to actually care for my kids. I hate this. I hate that sitting/laying down/standing up hurts, no matter what. I hate that I can’t get out of bed/off the couch/accross the room without sounding like an old lady. I hate that I can’t stand up straight. I hate that just picking up my stupid arm makes me tired. I hate that peeing is such a big deal and that I mentally calculate the fullness of the toilet bowl to wonder if I peed enough. I hate that my intestines loathe me to this degree, any kind of intestinal movement HURTS. No wonder new babies cry all the time as their bellies get used to processing food! I hate complaining and whining and relying on everyone around me to do the things that I damn well should be able to do.
* I love that my scale has an end-of-day weight that is 6 pounds less than my normal pre-surgery first morning weight. Even if I do have a larger belly now than before ( thank you, swelling. You have topped my day off nicely)
*am slightly appalled at the number of messages I’ve gotten asking about/congratulating me on my PLASTIC SURGERY. People. This was not plastics/elective. In fact, most parts of me look quite a bit worse, now. Five big puckering holes in my belly and a lady place that looks to be covered in ground beef and not at all ladylike. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
*again, my crotch hurts. Also? Am slightly terrified of what 6 weeks from now will bring as the dainty bits? Are MUCH MORE DAINTY than I have ever had them. I hope he didn’t take that part of my concern too zealously and over-fix….
* feel free to scrub your brain out after reading the previous sentences. Just sharin’ the glow, y’all.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I’m spent.
*eta* Fantastic. Just great. Called the doc just questioning if maybe perhaps this isn’t normal? Or am I really just a giant weenie? And now I get to pay fifty bucks in gas to drive back up there tomorrow for them to get a private peep show. Probably an infection. Maybe not. Unwilling to try antibiotics without seeing things which is just stoooopid because what can it hurt? Also? My hormones are crazy and this is making me cry. Which is also stooooopid.
11 Friday Mar 2011
Posted surrogacy
inI’d like to invite any Intended Parents looking to match with a Gestational Surrogate to please comment on this post or message me privately. I know of many experienced and new surrogates that are looking to begin a new journey, and thought perhaps we could meet new people here. Please comment or message with a quick note about who you are looking for with contact information.
01 Tuesday Mar 2011
Posted Holy Crap, Life After Surrogacy, surrogate
inToday I go in for my pre-op appointment. A three hour drive over the mountain will be rewarded with an hour and a half of peeing on random people. I’ll be getting a urodynamic study done, which means lots of fluids cathed in to this giant mama-bladder several different times, and the joy of experiencing a variety of methods to get the fluid back out. I get to cough, sneeze, jump around, strain, clench, and be recorded on video. It’s going to be a riot.
Anyone that knows me in real life knows how insane it is that *I* am doing this study. I don’t pee in front of people. I just don’t. Hell, I turn on the faucet to pee even when i’m the only person at home. I literally gave myself water poisoning when I once had to take an observed pee test for employment. I’ll birth me a baby in front of an entire college football team. No problem. But pee in front of a nurse? I don’t think so. Obviously, it isn’t a matter of being embarrassed, modest or shy ( good gawd, do any of those terms apply to me? Queen of TMI, here. Case in point; this post.) it’s just…. one of my things. I am delicate blossom. Delicate blossoms don’t pee in front of/within hearing range of/ or ON other people. We just don’t.
Today is going to be fun.
27 Sunday Feb 2011
Posted Holy Crap, Journey #1, Journey #2, Journey #3, surrogacy, surrogate, Uncategorized
inWell, things are moving forward, but not in the way that you might think. I find myself at the starting gate to yet another journey.. not a journey through surrogacy, but rather a journey towards………
I have no idea where I’m going. All I know is, it’s forward.
In a few short weeks, my body will be under the knife and I’ll be the grudging recipient of a partial hysterectomy along with becoming the home for a few feet of mesh. These last couple of physically traumatic births have done in the ol’ lady bits and if I want to move forward in my life, those bits have to be repaired. It looks like retirement from the world of pregnancy will be less of a ticker tape parade out of town and more of a tornado, ripping me away from the comforts of my body and over the rainbow for a whole different kind of adventure.
Folks, I am FREAKED OUT.
But it’s what’s got to happen. Prolapse after prolapse, my body is telling me something. It’s time to listen. This is one of those risks we hear about when getting in to surrogacy in the first place. One of those scenarios that we accept, but never really think will happen to us. It happens. Thinking of being a surrogate? Understand that along with the amazing magic and life transforming positive that comes out of a journey, this is a possible risk.
Is the risk worth it?
I think so. We were done having our own family, surrogacy didn’t change that. My heart bursts with love and pride when I look at pictures of my stunning surro babies, when I think of the families I have helped create. But surrogacy did have quite a bit more down sides that I’d been prepared for. The loss of many relationships and now this physical complication.. I didn’t count on those. Would I do it again? Yes. But I may have approached things differently if my crystal ball had let me in on just what, exactly, I was getting in to.
Much more to say. I just don’t know how to say it.
06 Saturday Nov 2010
Posted Journey #3, Labor and Delivery, surrogacy
in*Thomas and family flew home on the 1st. It was much harder than expected, for me. I don’t want to talk about it.
* Retained Placenta bits! Again! Squeeeeeee!!
*D&C! Fantastic!
*Uterine Infection! Whoop!!
* Total boob ER doctor. A giggle a minute, that guy. Good drugs, though….
*Still pumping, but think perhaps antibiotics are messing with supply. Pump & Dump sucks, by the way.
*Totally feel the need to constantly add disclaimers when sharing this birth story. It’s not a competition and your birth may have been a thousand times longer or harder or with bigger hurdles or what ever. Good for you. But this was my 10. This was my marathon. This was *MY* ultimate challenge. How it compares to yours doesn’t lessen how it felt to me. For me, it was the most intense thing ever. If it was a drop in the bucket compared to yours, GOOD for you! I can not imagine. But that doesn’t make how it felt to *me* any less. Also? A pudendal block counts as drug relief during labor, and while still not a competition, that means yours *was* different than mine. Please don’t tell me I was being “a drama queen”.
~Things Remembered at delivery that I’d better note before I forget~
A blurry conversation about past births during the pushing stage. Me half passed out between contractions, answering her question about previous deliveries with some finger guns and the word “epidural”. Because that explained everything, at that point in my life. Every question, every concern, every query about the world in general could be answered with “epidural”, if you asked me.
I said please a lot. I also said fuck a lot. Not sure if the one cancels out the other, but that’s what I’m going with for the time being.
Another thing I said? A LOT? Anus. Yes, I said anus. Like, a thousand times. Why would I be saying anus? Mostly because I was pretty damn sure that was where Mr.Man was attempting to exit, and I had vivid screenshots playing through my mind of that unfortunate weightlifter we’ve all seen on YouTube and the issues he had with his very own anus… I was convinced that was going to be me. Seriously. < ( I said that a few times, too. Seriously, that is. I was damn convinced that people thought I was joking.) Apparently when under pressure I use proper terms. I could have said asshole, but no, I said anus. I like to think the attending ( wonderful) OB was appreciative of my proper use of the term when I was asking for the appropriately placed counter pressure. Anus. Anus anus anus. Your welcome.
24 Sunday Oct 2010
Posted Journey #3, Labor and Delivery, Pictures, surrogate
inIt was 9pm on Sunday night when I noticed that my “braxton hicks” were getting a little less “hicks” and more crampy, and on a regular schedule. I’d had false alarm after false alarm with labor *maybe* starting over the past week just about every night, so I didn’t put too much weight on this regular cramping. It’d happened before. So color me surprised when 1am hits and I’m not only now still painfully contracting every 2 to 4 minutes, but yah. I’m in labor. Real labor. Finally. My week had thus far been peppered with membrane sweeping and the occasional modest dose of castor oil. I’d already called in the troops the previous Sunday morning when I was damn sure, after 5 hours of regular uncomfortable contractions, that this was it. And it wasn’t. Being the watched pot that almost boils every day.. yah,that was stressful. On top of this seeming pressure to perform was the running commentary in the back of my head that little man was on a tight schedule with his parents. Every day that I was still pregnant was potentially one less day he had with his father before Dad had to fly home. Schedules had to be rearranged several times; everyone expected him to be early, or at LEAST born by his due date! And while we all know that babies will come when they are darn good and ready, it was very clear that everyone would really prefer that he be ready now, please. Being the belly carrying that little decision making man, that “please” was all mine. So it was with more than a little bit of relief when I felt those contractions intensify, when I had to start breathing through them with a bit of focus. Labor. I was finally in labor.
I held out till 2am before smacking Husband out of bed with the wake-up call that this is indeed it, it was time to have this baby. From this point on my timeline gets pretty fuzzy…
The troops are called; Mama Jaymee and Daddy M, Midwife, Doula, middle-of-night childcare, backup for middle-of-night childcare…. It was right around 3am when we arrived at the Bend Birth Center… and I had stopped contracting. The adrenaline of the car ride, perhaps? But there was no way I was sending everyone back home. Within half an hour of arriving I’m contracting again, and my water is broken. Giant GUSH of nice clear fluid, and those crampy contractions up the ante as little man settles his head nice and firmly down. It’s not long before I’m tuning out with my I-Pod blasting away and settling down for some good laboring in the giant birthing tub.
And this is where my brain kind of losses it’s perception of the world outside of *me*. This labor was so different from all of my other labors, and not just in that it started naturally after weeks of false starts. These contractions… they were weird. BIG, little, BIG, little. Several minute break between, several second break between. But the biggest difference? The most glaring obvious difference?
Back pain.
I say back pain, but what I mean is the overwhelmingly intense sensation that a mac truck was attempting to crunch it’s way out of my lower spine with all haste, regardless of the moaning and relaxing and soft “o” blowing that I was doing. I say intense, but that isn’t a big enough word. I guess the biggest indicator of the strength of this pain was that pink bucket.
There are very few things in this world that I’d rather do less than throw up. I’d rather go spelunking in a tank of sewage. I’d rather eat a cat sized spider. I’d rather………. fill in the blank. I will resist throwing up with every fiber of my being. But Monday morning? Monday morning that was all my body had left to give. I threw up. I threw up a lot. For hours. It seemed like that was my bodies last bit of resistance left to dealing with how overwhelmed I felt with this back pain. I didn’t even feel my belly or the contractions, my whole world was centered on whatever the heck was happening to my back.
I was confused, these contractions just didn’t feel progressive like I’m used to!
And I was scared. Because it was just so different, so painful and non-productive feeling. I was sure that there was something wrong.
So I gave up.
Despite being fully dilated, I had zero urge to push. He felt like he was hiding high up under my ribs, not descending at all, and that was just…. wrong. Transition sucks, it hurts, and it’s potentially scary… but it’s followed by these delicious urges to push that are instantly reassuring because now you not only no longer get the option of fighting with your contractions ( you’ll push whether you want to or not) but each contraction feels so productive! But I was getting none of that. I insisted we go to the hospital. That is a polite way of saying I broke out my big baby whine and demanded that we go find me a spinal and some help, because I can NOT DO THIS and something is WRONG. I rushed out to the car between contractions, and had the ride from hell to transfer to St.Charles of Bend’s Family Birthing Center. City of Bend, take note: Those roads REALLY need to be re-paved.
I have one vivid memory of scaring the bejesus out of a darling little girl walking down the halls quietly to go see a new baby as I groaned and moaned my way loudly past her, rushed by in my wheelchair by the nurse. One of my very few memories that has a picture with it, my eyes were closed pretty much the whole time. The visual stimulation on top of the physical stimulation was just too much for my brain to handle.
For the last few hours, I’d had no idea who was there and who wasn’t, who was talking and who was quiet, what was going on around me at all.. I did take a few breaks from “inside of me” to insist that no, I really wasn’t kidding, I really did need something for the pain! But nope, that wasn’t going to happen. I was just too close to birthin’ the little man, and I was going to be forced to have the birth of my dreams, no matter how much I was going to bitch about it at the time. And oh my goodness did I whine. My throat is still sore from all the noise I was making.
I never got an urge to push, and the back pain didn’t stop with the contractions. It turns out, Thomas had stubbornly claimed his spot in my uterus months ago, and wasn’t willing to adjust. As a result, he was being born face up, or in the occiput posterior position. That was the difference. That was the “wrong” that I was feeling. And that explained * everything*, from the false starts, the weird labor pattern, the longer gestation then estimated, the long labor in general, the feeling that he just wasn’t moving down at all, the intense back pain, the lack of a pushing urge…
I didn’t have a choice. If I wanted this little man to be born, if I wanted this pain to stop; I had to birth him. All by myself.
And so I did.
I pushed for an hour and a half, more than doubling the time of any other birth. Each contraction brough both terror and determination as I had to force myself to make things hurt more in order to eventually make things feel better. I had a LOT of people cheering me on, for which I am grateful. I may not have said anything at the time, but I heard you. I heard my husband counting softly in my ear. I heard my doula reminding me to relax through each “break” period. I heard my midwife praise each decent push I managed to make. I heard my best friend encouraging me on as Thomas finally started to descend. I heard you all. And I am just so thankful that you were there.
Thomas Edward was born at 11:45 am after eight hours of intense labor (14 hours in total) and delivered in to the arms of his mother after nearly a decade of waiting.
It was an intense moment.
The second he was born, I was instantly a new woman. No pain. No discomfort. Adrenaline pumping through me like I’d never experienced before. I had done it, all 8 pounds 8 ounces of healthy squalling little boy. Yes, I was loud and I complained and there was absolutely NO dignity left in me. But I HAD done it. And it felt…. awesome.
It still feels awesome.
Growing this family, making Jaymee a mama? Intense. From beginning to end. Life changing. Amazing.
Welcome to the world, little Thomas. So happy to finally have you here!
22 Friday Oct 2010
Posted Journey #3, Labor and Delivery, surrogacy
inI may end up sharing just the most garbled birth story told in the history of blogging. Apparently I wasn’t really *present* for a lot of it, and what I do remember clearly is so tactile that there are no words to express it… so be kind! There are a lot of fantastic pictures thanks to Kimberly Teichrow Photography, and I want to share this the right way, so be patient as I gather it all together in my head. I can share that the end of my journey feels a little something like this:
In other news, Thomas is just amazing. I have had huge luck pumping this time around so am busy every other hour manning the pumps to get the good stuff for the little man! I have NEVER had luck pumping, so this is a total shock for me. My poor husband, it’s a total shock for him, too. Woke up this morning to some beautifully bountiful full milk boobies. Husband was appropriately appreciative of their giant gravity defying loveliness and queried if I was enjoying my boob-on, appreciating my morning-boob… and then he touched them and I promptly drowned him.
He will be missed.
08 Friday Oct 2010
Posted 3rd Trimester, Holy Crap I'm Pregnant, Pictures, surrogacy
inWell I don’t know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain’t right,
I’m so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I’m wondering how I’ll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you.Yes I’m stuck in the middle with you,
And I’m wondering what it is I should do,
It’s so hard to keep this smile from my face,
Losing control, yeah, I’m all over the place,
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.Well you started out with nothing,
And you’re proud that you’re a self made man,
And your friends, they all come crawlin,
Slap you on the back and say,
Please…. Please…..Trying to make some sense of it all,
But I can see that it makes no sense at all,
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor,
‘Cause I don’t think that I can take anymore
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.Well you started out with nothing,
And you’re proud that you’re a self made man,
And your friends, they all come crawlin,
Slap you on the back and say,
Please…. Please…..Well I don’t know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain’t right,
I’m so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I’m wondering how I’ll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you,
Yes I’m stuck in the middle with you,
Stuck in the middle with you.
We’re on the final countdown now… Jaymee flew in to town on the 1st, got settled in to her giant rental home.. and now comes the twiddling. Finger twiddling, that is, although other ares are being twiddled lately as well to encourage little man to come out and play. It has been low key and stress-less having Jaymee here, but nothing could have prepared me for being the middle man in this situation. No one wants to be the one standing between a Mama and her baby, and yet that’s exactly where I find myself. I’m still comfortably pregnant and physically in no huge hurry to birth this little man, but mentally? I want to give this Mama her baby. I do NOT like being the one stopping her from cuddling him and Mama-ing him, at last. I know little man will come when he’s good and ready, and judging by the braxton hicks, real contractions, and trips to the bathroom lately I don’t think it will be much longer… but still. I wasn’t prepared.