Somewhere over the past couple of years, I lost it. I can't tell if it was all of the sudden or if I lost little grains along the way like sand from a dune. All I know is I woke up one day and realized it was gone.
There is an inherent quality in surrogates which is composed of cotton candy rainbows and shiny pennies. The intended parents usually ride into surrogacy on a potholed, broken road and carrying heavy, tattered baggage. The surrogate flits in on a sparkled moonbeam carrying a bagful of babydust.
Often, the surrogate can view the journey from angles that some intended parents cannot. When cycling, the surrogate can begin imagining what it will be like to see the intended parents with their baby. The intended parents might not be able to see past the retrieval. The surrogate might feel nothing but excitement and joy with each injection, ultrasound, and blood test. While still feeling a sense of excitement, the intended parents might also feel a sense of dread and foreboding with each follicle scan or trip to the little room with the plastic cup in hand. The surrogate: sunshine and glitter. The intended parents: where there is sunshine, there are shadows, and as festive as it is, glitter can sometimes make an awful mess of things.
As a surrogate after infertility, despite all of my sarcasm and eye-rolling, there was still a large part of me that could gallivant gleefully into a cycle with the fundamental belief that everything would work out. Maybe not with that cycle in particular, but eventually. What is the point of being a surrogate if somewhere inside, there is a fiber that resolutely believes that things wouldn't eventually work out? Though I could dump the infertile vet pessimism out of my system here on my blog, there was another part of me that could go to Surrogate Mothers Online and join a cycling group and vote on ridiculously cutesy names like "March Lucky Charms" or "October Boo Bellies." I could follow everyone's cycle updates and later, view the pictures of other people's darkening positives and doubling betas and first ultrasound pictures as I waited for my own.
But then mine never came.
By the time I got around to my last cycle last April/May, I couldn't bring myself to post about my cycle or even read about others' cycles on SMO. It was all too…fertile. Too positive, in nearly every sense of the word.
Screw the sparkles; I needed snark.
I didn't want to hear the chipper You'll get 'em next time, Tiger condolences of SMO when my betas tanked. I preferred to hole up here where I could get the This fuckin' sucks sweaty donkey balls that I needed.
And for a long while after, on SMO there were too many reminders of what I couldn't seem to accomplish for me to be able to tolerate being there any longer to keep up with my moderating duties. I didn't read the Cycling & 2WW forum, wouldn't read birth stories, and couldn't read anything in between. Meet Moxie, the infertile infertile-surrogate. No glittered moonbeams and babydust here to see; move along to a newbie or to a lucky one who who (thankfully) doesn't know any better yet.
Somewhere in the past few months I had the revelation that all which is actually fun about being a surrogate is wrapped up in those colorful iridescent bubbles of positivity, and I'd lost my ability to see in anything other than black and white. Cycles would either work or they wouldn't, and fun doesn't come between Points A and B. Fun would come later when I knew there was something to be tenuously happy about.
It's only been the past week or so that I realized I was still healing. Is that how healing goes? You think you're all patched up, then you don't realize that you were still feeling a draft until after some other hole has closed and all of the sudden you remember what warmth really feels like?
Because as much as I thought I was looking forward to cycling again with Miss W, it's only been in the past couple of weeks that I've found myself blissfully imagining doing some of the wacky surrogate/intended mother stuff that I always look forward to, like designing matching shirts and looking for crazy socks to wear to our transfer. I'm looking forward to posting tandem surrogate/IM update posts on SMO. It's beginning to feel like cupcakes and lollipops again.
I think it's called hope.
It feels good to be back. Let the sparkled moonbeams come.
Only this time, no fucking unicorns.
See what others are Showing and Telling with Mel.
Within the next few days, I'll have some information to share about what should be some MAJOR positive press on surrogacy.
Relevant to the point above, there might also be some future opportunities for me to share my views on surrogacy in a much broader public light.
Tomorrow. Iz maibirfdai.