This is the part that I've grown to hate. Well, it's more like a love/hate relationship, but by now it's probably a bit more hate than love. Matching — I was in the same place last year. That's what matching does, at least for me. It makes me think in terms of time and realize just how long I've been at this, all that's happened since then, and just how messed up it is that I've been smacked back to the start line again.
On one hand, there is a certain exhiliration that comes from trying to find a match. The ad goes up and then the inbox stalking begins. It's a bit like Christmas or Forrest's box of chocolates — you never know what you're going to get, and it's impossible not to feel some anticipation that there will be a new ad reply each time you check your email.
But on the other, larger hand, matching has almost become riddled with anxiety. I'm hard to match for several reasons, so it seems like the replies come few and far in between. Half of those that I do get read something like WE ARE LOOKING FOR A SURROGANT, HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE? Instant turn-off, definite no-go. Then for the others that seem like they could be possibilities, I know that I must rehash nearly the entire history of my uterus. I don't mean to cheapen or minimize the importance of having had four healthy pregnancies, but when you weigh the good of my fertility history against the bad, the Gee, You're Screwed Up side of the list reaches much further than my uterus' list of accomplishments. In the past 18 months alone I have had one completely failed IVF and three chemicals. When you add in PCOS/IR, a slightly elevated BMI, and my own wonky hormones and lady bits, I can't help but feel like a washed up, rusty tin can when compared to the sleek and sliver vessels that are other surrogates.
I know that my personal (sub)fertility history isn't so bad that it precludes me from being a good carrier. There isn't an RE who in his right mind would have ever approved me if I wasn't. Still, there is this bag of insecurities that I carry around, knowing that my infertility is a factor that needs to be considered. Hell, if I was an intended parent looking for a surrogate and all other things being equal, it came down to Surrogate A who needed Clomid to get pregnant and Surrogate B who washes her husband's underwear and gets pregnant, I'd probably lean more towards Surro B, too.
So, there it is. Remnant sadness and wonky ovaries and all, I'm trying to find intended parents. Again. This time next year, I hope I'm writing a post of a different, much happier persuasion.