Play it again, Sam

It was surreal. It was routine but not. Hop on the table. Don't fall off, because that sucker seems twice as thin as my ass is wide. Talk to the anesthesiologist. No, I'm not allergic to anything that I know of. Yes, I itch like a sonafabitch and feel like vomiting out my kidneys from nausea in reaction to the spinal, so have shots of phenergan and benadryl ready. Ms. Nice Nurse says to bend over as far as you possibly can; lean on my shoulders. From behind, Dr. NumbYoufromtheLegsDown explains what he's doing as he administers the spinal. I hate this part. The thought of that big needle going in through my back and into the spinal column is freaky. *POP* I both hear and feel it (no pain, more like a small tap) when the needle goes into the spinal column and whoooooaaaa duuuuuuude….left leg feels hot and heavy whoa…there goes the right one and WOW…can't feel anything down there and awwwwww yeah…I'm feelin' kinda nice, now. Thank you, morphine. Long time, no high, my good friend Mr. Morphine.

After I'm buzzed off my rocker and can't feel anything from the boobs down, the next few steps always seem to happen fast. I'm laid down with my arms stretched to the sides, the blue curtain goes up just under my chin, and my OB seems to mystically materialize from the walls. But this time, instead of Frank coming in and being seated at my right shoulder, Stephanie and Terry come in. They're garbed in blue scrubs with white masks. I giggle, because for some reason they remind me of the marshmallows that used to come in Smurf cereal.

Stephanie took my hand. Her piercing, clear blue eyes never left mine. As my OB began the surgery and dictated his steps, she constantly asked if I was okay or if I was in any pain. "No pain. I can't feel anything but pressure." After what feels like only a few minutes, Dr. Edwards said, "Here he comes! His head is out! Dad – come up here and snap a picture if you want to!" Then suddenly, gloriously, we hear a gusty, angry, healthy cry. He's not even all the way out yet and he's already crying. I could hear both the laughter and the tears in Terry's voice as he rose to see his son — his first child — for the first time.

As Sam was pulled out and his wails grew louder, Stephanie's hand gripped mine tighter and the tears that until then only welled in her eyes finally spilled forth. Her son was there, but she kept her eyes firmly on mine. "Thank you, Moxie. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Her voice was barely above a whisper but even with all the other commotion in the room, I only heard her words with the sweet sound of her son's screaming voice in the background.

She couldn't take her wide, grateful eyes off of me and I could tell that she was torn. "Go," I urged. "It's okay. He's here! This is what you've been waiting for. Go meet your son." The intensity of her eyes tightened into a deeper, bluer thank you, and she finally released my hand then turned to be with her husband and new baby. 

From my vantage point I couldn't see anything but I heard everything. As he finished the surgery, Dr. Edwards told me what a wonderful thing I'd done. As expected, I started to feel itchy and nauseous, so the anesthesiologist administered the phenergan and benadryl. The meds immediately alleviated the side effects and cranked the dial on the FuzzyBrain Meter a few notches higher. I heard someone call out, "He's HUGE! He's 8 lbs, 10 oz!" I noticed that my nurse was teary-eyed. Everyone seemed to be talking about something. Then suddenly, they were there, and it was as if the rest of the world faded away and there was only us. He was beautiful. They were beautiful.

He was Sam, not Tony. And he was perfect.

A few minutes later, Steph and Terry went with Sam to the nursery. Relishing my high, I promptly annouced to the whole world and to no one in particular that I was taking a nap and to please wake me when they were finished putting me back together.

I eventually made it back to my pre-op/post-op room where Frank was waiting for me. I blathered about the delivery then shooed him away to go to his yearly neurology check-up, which coincidentally had been scheduled for that afternoon. He made it back just before I was transferred to my recovery room less than an hour later.

Through the rest of the day, there was a steady stream of visitors. Members of my family and of Stephanie and Terry's extended families came to see me. One of the most special visits was from "The Grandmothers." Stephanie's mom (who'd also come to every, single, solitary RE and OB appointment), Terry's mom (who'd come to several ultrasounds through the pregnancy), and Terry's grandmother (who lives in New York; I'd met her earlier in the pregnancy when she was visiting) all came together to see me. They collectively gifted me with a beautiful card with a message from each of them and a huge Bath and Body Works collection of Japanese Cherry Blosssom products. That scent now always reminds me of Sam and is a "lucky" scent. Phone calls from family and friends poured in. I was buzzed from the drugs like a mofo, so I have more of a general memory more than a specific, clear set of post-delivery memories. I just know that I felt overjoyed, and I could feel everyone's joy around me.

I couldn't even be dampered by the behavior of the Special Care 4th floor nurses, who seemed to have missed the message that Sam was not your average Special Care baby. I can't blame them so much; they were just doing their jobs and wouldn't take Stephanie's word about the exceptions that should have been allowed. They wouldn't let Stephanie bring Sam down to see me no matter how much she argued. Finally, Steph whipped out every ounce of Southern sass that her skinny body could muster: Don't you THINK for a second that I'll let you keep me here. She CARRIED MY CHILD and whether you like it or not, I'm taking Sam down to see her. Now either I wheel his bassinet down there myself, or you can come with me if that makes you feel better. But I'm going, and you won't stop me. Finally Nurse Ratchet escorted Stephanie and Sam down to visit. Later, Stephanie would tell me that on the way down, the nurse suggested to her not to let me hold Sam for too long because I might want to keep him. Whatthehellever.

Even Nurse MegaBitch's hovering and suspicious eye couldn't detract from the joy I felt seeing Sam, Stephanie, and Terry again. It was after 9 pm and some of the cobwebs had cleared away. I was more lucid and Sam was calm. He already looked different than the baby I'd seen just that morning.

I think that that was when it finally felt real to me. In my mind, I could see the similar picture that the five of us had taken that morning, with Sam still on the inside instead of out. I exhaled. In that moment, I truly exhaled.

The next day I went upstairs to visit. Steph and Terry were exhausted, but happy. The Grandmothers, who had taken over the waiting area of the Special Care nursery, were amazed that I was up and walking.

Downstairs in my room, most of the in-and-out visits slowed to a trickle, which allowed me some time to rest. My surrobuddy Catherine came in to visit. I'd been to visit her at both of her post-surrogacy delivery recoveries, and she was overjoyed that she finally got the chance to return the favor. One surrofriend — Stephanie — had absolutely sinful chocolate-covered strawberries delivered to the hospital and another — Rebekah — sent flowers. I had a breastpump brought in, as I was donating my breastmilk to my friend and fellow Surrogate Mothers Online moderator, Lisa. She was finally q mom via egg donation. She had delivered her beautiful little sprite Jenna just five days before.

Ancient Smart One wisdom says, Vicodin and morphine effin' ROCK!

The next afternoon, Sam was discharged. I went downstairs to see the new family off. Almost suddenly, it was over. A few hours later, I was also discharged. I was ready. The journey was a great ride while it lasted, but I was ready to go home and let my life settle again, back into the familiar rhythms of life before cycling and appointments and breath-holding. Only it was a life more enriched, one in which I could say with pride that I did something that really mattered.

He is growing so fast and his personality seems to be growing even faster.

The first time seeing him again after delivery – June 2007:

 

Another visit, January 2008:

Sam's first birthday and two of my favorite pictures:

He's two years old today. He's bright and funny and thriving. Now when Stephanie calls, she's not the only one who does the talking. "Where Moxie? Moxie at school? Moxie at work? Hi! Hi, Moxie!" Unbelievable.

And Stephanie – she's there every step of the way. She's in the wings of this blog, lurking in the background and calling to pick me up when I am down. "Don't you forget," she says…rather, fusses, in that twangy Southern lilt, "don't you forgot what you did for us and that we're always grateful. I know that it's rough right now and I know how differently it could have gone for us. I'm always thinking of you and the couples you're working with and wishing for and praying for them. Don't you forget that. I'm always here wanting my history with you to repeat itself with someone else."

Happy 2nd birthday, Sam, my Meatball.

I hope and pray to have what I had with you once again.