I have an online surrogacy profile prepared. In it, I've neatly organized all of the relevant introductory information that intended parents usually like to know when they're looking for a gestational surrogate: explanation of my motivation to be a surrogate, a short autobiography and information about my family, relevant pregnancy, (in)fertility, and surrogacy histories, compensation and fee list, and some family pictures. It's a nice, neat little digital package which makes the overall matching process easier for both me and any potential intended parents that I feel comfortable allowing to read it.
Last night I was completing the new patient packet for the clinic in Atlanta that I'll be working with this go 'round. I had a brain fart and suddenly I couldn't remember how much Baby M weighed or exactly how far along I was when I delivered him. I pulled up my surrogacy profile to the page that outlines my pregnancy history. Next to the information for each of my four pregnancies, I've included a belly shot photo from that particular pregnancy.
Frank was looking over my shoulder at the computer screen and said, "That's a sexy mama, right there."
"Huh? What are you talking about? I hardly look sexy sitting here in a dirty shirt and morning bedhead even though it's almost midnight."
"Yeah, you're right. You're not so sexy right now."
"Gee, thanks, buttmunch."
"I'm talking about these pictures of you pregnant. Look – you're radiant. There's just something about you when you're pregnant that's just…mmm…gorgeous."
"Well, hell! Let me hurry up and get pregnant again!"
"Not with my baby, though," he exclaimed while miming a protective cross over his manparts.
"Oh, hellz no! Most certainly not with your baby."
"Yeah – you're only getting pregnant with other men's children now."
Hi. I'm Moxie. My husband Frank and I were high school sweethearts and we've been married for 14 years. We have four children – all Clomid babies – and we're also raising my nephew. I've been a gestational surrogate and delivered a baby boy named Baby M to his parents three years ago. Despite what my header says, I've been getting my ass kicked for the past the 2.5 years in efforts to once again help another couple become parents.
It's been so long since I've written that I thought I should reintroduce myself, just in case you forgot who I was.
I had to disappear for a while to focus on the final details of my family reunion worked out. Somehow, the family decided that because we've never had a reunion in south Georgia (always north Georgia or in other parts of the country), last summer I got suckered into planning this summer's annual reunion. It's been an ongoing project through the past year, but anyone whose been responsible for planning a huge family reunion, or hell – a wedding, for that matter, knows that the real craziness happens within the month before the event. Planning things like this is just not my forte. It requires Type-A perfection, scheduling, organization, timeliness, and budgeting, all of which completely goes against my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants nature. I usually balk at constraints and deadlines, so pulling this off has been a true test of my character.
Thankfully, despite the stress and frazzled nerves leading up to the big event, the weekend was a huge success. We started last Friday evening and partied through Sunday morning. We always have a theme for our reunions, and this year I chose the '80's: So-So Fresh in Savannah. Everyone said that it was the best reunion ever (and there have been some good ones), so I've been relishing the accolades that continue to pour in. And you, dear Reader, get the pleasure of these:
Def. Don't sweat the technique.
Two cousins, my sister, and my foot. What? I was breakdancing.
Now for some new information that you don't know: for all intents and purposes, I'm matched. I sort-of hinted at it a month ago, but I didn't want to get too spun up in writing about it until I was sure that we'd be making some actual progress. The catch is that I haven't been fully approved by the RE yet. When she reviewed my records about a month ago, before doing anything else she wanted me to bring my BMI down a little. I had already been in the process of losing weight (25 lbs down since June 1!) and was only about 8 pounds from where she wanted me to be. So, three weeks later I was down ten pounds, and we could finally move on to scheduling screening clinic visits and whatnot.
The RE – let's call her Dr. One – is hands-on and has her own way of doing things. This is ideal because we know she's being thorough, but it is also somewhat frustrating because it stretches out our timeline quite a bit. We won't know for certain whether I'll be fully approved to be their surrogate until all of my testing is complete. Instead of compounding everything into one visit as I've had happen in the past, it seems as though Dr. One is using each test as its own individual hurdle for me to jump over. Tomorrow I have my first official in-house screening appointment in Atlanta. I'm fairly certain that tomorrow's visit will only involve blood work and meeting with Dr. One face-to-face. In the coming weeks, I'll have to return to Atlanta for an HSG, psychological consults, and a consult with an MFM as a precaution due to my having had four prior c-sections. If everything goes well, I suspect that it will be late September before we're able to start cycling and October before we transfer.
Still, we're far enough along that I can feel my words returning to me, and if this truly is the start of my new journey, I'll later regret not writing about the early days. Frank and I met my new IPs (damned the testing – I'm claiming them as mine until bad luck tells me not to) for the first time a couple of weekends ago for lunch and they are amazing. They're like mirror images of Frank and me; she's chatty and animated, and he's unintentionally funny in a quiet, unassuming way. We laughed like we were old friends and everything felt right. Hopefully, everything will continue on that same path.
In the meantime, say hi to Nyoni and Umoja (which of course are aliases and will probably be whittled down to "Ny and Mo" here and there). Don't go scaring them off with crazy stories about me, either.