The Beginning

“Let’s start at the very beginning

A very good place to start

When you read you begin with ABC

When you sing you begin with Do Re Mi”

Ok, I’m done with my ode to Julie Andrews (God, I love that woman)

I should start at the beginning, but I’ll try to keep it brief. I met my husband when I was 12 and he was 13. He’ll tell you it was love at first sight for him, me not so much. It would take a few years and a haircut on his part for me to decide there was something there. We moved in together when I was 19. At 23 we got married. When I was 25 we took a leap of faith and moved away from our hometowns and our families. I was 26 when we bought our house and 27 when we had our son. Our daughter was born when I was 29 and that pretty much bring us up to now as I’m looking down the barrel at 31. Typed out like that it seems like our life together has been a whirlwind, and the last 5 years it definitely has been. When you’re living it though you’re just getting from one day to the next, especially when you throw littles into the mix. Life is now starting to take on a slightly slower rhythm and we’re ready for another adventure.

I don’t remember learning about surrogacy, it seems like I’ve always known about it on some level. I do know when it became something I wanted to pursue. Without going into details, we struggled a bit to conceive our son. It was 11 months filled with frustration, anger, and worry. After he was born I remember looking at him and just feeling grateful. During the months we struggled I saw so many stories of people who had struggled harder and longer and underwent more procedures than us. I still see it from friends and family. Looking at my baby I couldn’t imagine going through that for years. Then I realized that I was in a position to help someone fulfill their dream of becoming a parent. I knew in an instant that I wanted to be a surrogate. I knew I needed to be done with our family first and we knew we wanted at least one more child. After I got pregnant with our daughter we knew we would be done after her and I knew that once she was a bit older I’d be ready to pursue surrogacy.

Now she’s almost two and the time is right. A lot has happened since that moment that I decided I wanted to carry someone else’s baby, both in my personal life and in our country. I’m not going to dive into politics here, but let’s just say that we live in a trying time. I’ve always been pro LBGTQ, I believe in equal rights for every single person and I loathe those who would restrict anyone’s natural born rights. When I first thought about surrogacy my mind went to a intended mother (IM) who had been struggling with her body trying to carry a child. I wanted to help her, to let her know that she’s not less of a woman because she can’t carry a child. I wanted to offer to grow her baby and I would imagine the joy on her face when she met her child for the first time. I would still love to live that experience, but in the last couple years I’ve become more acutely aware of the discrimination LBGTQ people are facing and a new scenario made it’s way into my mind. A same sex couple that probably face some sort of discrimination more often than not. They may have been told that they aren’t suitable parents, that they would raise their child to be gay. They’ve probably been stared at, pointed at, maybe heard whispers behind their backs. I imagine their faces when they meet their child for the first time in a delivery room and a smile never fails to creep across my face. I’m truly okay with any scenario that involves a person or persons who have been longing for a child meeting them for the first time after I deliver the baby, but I feel drawn to helping a gay couple.

Right now I’m in the screening and matching process. I’m open to whatever match feels right. I’m so incredibly happy to be starting this journey. I’m anxious to get things moving, but I know from my research that surrogacy can very much be “hurry up and wait” so it will be a good exercise in patience.

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