Tattoo Story: Illustrating the Hitchhiker’s Adventure

we may add more color, but for now this is it, my new favorite

All of my tattoos serve as illustrations to some of the bigger stories of my life. I am proud of all of my tattoos and grateful that they allow me to tell those stories over and over again. This one is particularly fun, because it is so unusual a story, and so deeply personal on so many levels already shared on this blog. My husband recently gave me a print of a card he gave me as we were in between hitchhiking embryos. One baby had just died at nine weeks and we were about to transfer the second to my body. The card and print exclaim, “oh my f-ing (edited) god (little g- god so not breaking any commandments), is there anything you can’t do”. He gave it to me because he was proud of what I was doing, and what I had already done in my life. It was an amazing sentiment, and a reminder that I can do hard things, really hard things. While I know I don’t do any of those things alone, and certainly not this, I am proud of this story and so glad I have a way to continue to share it for years to come.

I am especially proud too, as a woman in a profession where I am limited by my gender, that I used my vagina to serve Jesus in a way that no man can. I know that is a strong statement, and I don’t say it to be inflammatory, I am not trying to offend. It’s sincere, I have been limited in what I am allowed to do and what churches I work at because I am a woman. My qualifications to serve Jesus professionally are limited by my anatomy, but they aren’t limited by my God. He has equipped me and empowered me to serve and it was really fun to serve in this way, a way that a man couldn’t. A way that I was choosing, a way that required a lot of strength and perseverance.A way that isn’t the traditional fundamental Christian, "a woman’s ultimate purpose is to bare children" kind of way. This kind of turned that upside down. It was empowering.

Serving Jesus is how this all started. Jesus came to love and to lay down his life for us with mercy and grace. I wanted to do that, to stretch beyond my comfort zone and follow Jesus lead. I have found time and time again, that when you do that it leads you on the best and worst of adventures, and I think this tattoo captures that beautifully.

The foundation of this tattoo is an anatomic heart. I love anatomic hearts and always have. There is something so beautiful to me about the way they look. While some may find them gory, or unattractive, this one is beautiful. I think that really symbolizes this journey. We took something ugly like cancer, and made something beautiful come out of it. The Hitchhiker couldn’t be carried by her mama, cancer robbed them of that. It was awful and hard, but then this opportunity came from it, and we all now have a bigger, richer, more beautiful family together because of it. We were united but the tragedy, and overcame the infertility part of it together as a team of two families. It’s the redemption of the ugly to the beautiful that is so present in the stories and lessons of Jesus. We see God’s grace in those stories, in the way he sees and creates beauty where other’s cannot, and I love that this tattoo captures some of that.

The heart has icicles at the bottom and smoke at the top. Those symbolize the four years that the Hitchhiker was frozen and how we helped thaw her out and give her life again. The science and miracle of it all was so amazing to me, and I wanted to capture that part of the story.

Inside the heart are bunnies. They aren’t a symbol of fertility, they are a symbol of the Hitchhiker’s family that are now a family of four. Her older brother is obsessed with bunnies, and the family has two large bunnies as pets. Whenever we saw her brother we would bring him bunnies of some sort, so it was a natural way to represent them and the way they are forever in our hearts.

The trees on top represent the adventure of it all. Like an exploration through the woods, this was an adventure. It was exciting and hard, treacherous and thrilling, and sometimes very mundane and ordinary.

The Hitchhiker’s mom said this was a beautiful illustration of how we carried their family through this process with warmth, love and strength. I feel like we all carried each other. It was such a team effort and an example of how family isn’t limited to the people you were born with or married into. I think it’s a beautiful illustration of God’s love for us, and the amazing adventures we have when we follow him.

So there you go, the story of this tattoo; an illustration of one of the coolest things my family and I will ever have the privilege of doing. I am so thankful God called me to do this crazy thing, and proud to have served in this way.  I am thankful to all of the friends and family that encouraged and helped us along throughout. This was not something I alone could ever have done. My husband was so courageous to agree to this. He sacrificed a lot to be there emotionally and physically for me. He and the kids had to accept the possibility of actually losing me, and for sure losing bits and pieces of me and what I could do as pregnancy progressed. So really his card should have said, "Oh my f-ing god is there anything we can’t do!” We as in my family and friends, the Hitchhiker’s family and ours. And we as in me and God serving together in faith, strengthened in only ways He can to do big things and bring a piece of heaven down to earth with the birth of this little girl. It was messy and hard and f-d at times, but it was even more beautiful, amazing and totally worth it!

If I can do this, you can do whatever that thing is that is nagging at you. I am not saying throw caution to the wind and just do something crazy, or stupid. While it did take a bit of crazy to actually go through with this adventure, there was a lot of research, planning, evaluating, preparation and so much more that went into it. So if adventure is calling you, get your ducks in a row, make sure your family and friends are on board, and may I suggest, you go in faith, God be with you.

Hitchhiker Adventures #7: Dropping off the Hitchhiker

“Why is your pulse so fast” said the well meaning nurse two days before I was scheduled to check into the hospital and push someone else’s baby out. I really wanted to fill her in during that moment, to grab my chart and show her all the issues the Hitchhiker and I had experienced together at the hand of In Vitro Fertilization. I wanted to show her the miscarriage record, the hemorrhage ultrasounds, the weird way her umbilical cord was inserted, or the ultrasound of her laying sideways, stretching my body to it’s physical limits, just days before she was supposed to come out. And I wanted to point out that all of this happened while I was carrying someone else’s baby. So yep, my pulse was a little high, but whose wouldn’t be? I had two babies before, but they were both mine. I knew how that went, I had that down. This was new territory. New, possibly very embarrassing territory, where in I might crap myself in front of two people I only met two years ago, and I still have not defecated (outside of a delivery room) in front of my husband of 17 years.  Not to mention the fact that I was going to be spending the day in the company of many and I would be doing it all without my underwear. I knew this adventure was crazy, I knew it was going to get messy, but there is a difference between knowing and actually doing. So as we checked into the hospital for the induction, I think it’s fair to say with a higher than normal pulse.

There were so many pulse racing unknowns to this when all four of us (Hitchhiker’s parents, Valentine and I) arrived and got settled into our labor and delivery room. I changed into a very lovely gown and IV pole, but thankfully was allowed to keep my bra on,dignity in these moments comes in the simplest of forms. We were team Hitchhiker the four of us. Their journey began in 2011, we were just playing catch up starting in 2013, and now here we all were together waiting for this little girl to finally be out in the world. So it didn’t seem to matter so much that I had to forgo underpants for the day. This was so much bigger than me and my embarrassment. 

We waited a long time. Well, longer than we had thought. My two were born rapidly. The Hitchhiker had other intentions. This hospital was much gentler with the pitocin and gave it to me very gradually. That combined with the Hitchhiker’s sunny side up position made for 12 hours of labor rather than 6 or 3.5. Thankfully there was an epidural in there, so rather than it being a horribly painful experience we were able to laugh. The Hitchhiker’s mom stayed with me, sitting in front of me as I hunched over for the anesthesiologist. Valentine gets squeamish around needles, so she stood in for him. It was just another task for team Hitchhiker. The hardest part of the day for me really, was not being able to do anything to make the delivery go faster. I just wanted to help get her out sooner. I wanted Valentine to be able to go home and be with our kids. I wanted our friends to not have to sit on the edge of their seats and most of all I wanted those parents to have their baby in their arms.

Throughout this wait, we were surrounded with amazing nurses and two fantastic doctors. I didn’t know how the nurses and doctors would treat us, and I have to admit, I was worried about this in the days that preceded her birth. Would they think surrogacy was a good thing? Would they look at my tattoos and think it was a money thing? Would they respect the wishes of the parents? All of them were very supportive of what we were doing. All of them thanked me for what I was doing, which seemed so crazy, especially since some of them were there delivering babies while battling their own infertility. To me they are the heroes. They respected the parents' parental rights, but they were very protective and respectful of me, making sure I was okay with everything, letting me be the decider on issues of who would get the baby after she was born. I always gestured to the Hitchhiker’s mom and said, “give her to her mom”. It was nice though to get to say those things, to get to make the decisions and not feel like I was just a cog in this baby making wheel. We never felt this way thorough out this process when it came to her parents. The only time I ever felt like that was at the reproductive clinic in the beginning. The hospital staff were fantastic and helped make the whole day a joyful one.

There had been discussion about where her parents would be during delivery. I felt very strongly that this was their baby and their birth experience. I also knew that when delivery happened suddenly there was a whole cast of strange nurses and doctors around, so it wasn’t a time for worrying about who was watching. Still a part of me was thinking about the indignity of it all, and experiencing that with them. So when it came time to push, the doctor who I had just met, asked where I wanted everyone. I remembered how excited Valentine was as he watched our own kids birth, and so did he, so we welcomed them to watch everything. Again, it probably should have been awkward, but any awkwardness only made me laugh. The absurdity of being so naked and out there was hilarious to me as I prepared to push that little girl out.

Delivery itself was something so wonderfully different than how I feared. I worried for days before hand that it would be awkward or tense, and it was anything but. We had just met our delivering OB as our regular OB went off shift. He seemed nice, but I had no idea when we met that we would be discussing mission trips as he tried to, um how should we say this, open things up for the wrong facing Hitchhiker. It was comfortable territory for me, talking about serving others abroad, and it put me at ease. There were a few complications and some extra pushes, but he kept me laughing though it all. Really, just watching her parents watch her, was so much fun. It should have been embarrassing maybe, but it was so cool. Having been the birthing mom, I have never gotten to watch a mom see her baby be born, or hold her for the first time. It was awesome.

This beautiful, chubby little girl who had been frozen for almost five years as an embryo was here. This girl who shouldn’t have been born because cancer nearly robbed her parents of this moment, was here. After the doctor finished fighting the placenta and stitching things up, we were left the four of us, team Hitchhiker to just marvel at her for a bit. Honestly there was no part of me that wanted to snuggle her. I was perfectly content to watch them. I did hold her, more than I would normally hold a newborn infant, but for me, it was about watching them be her parents. There honestly was not the urge to hold her and hug her and kiss her. I had my time with her, and I was glad it was her parents’ turn. I felt more like a co conspirator with her, than a parent. We had gone through a lot to get her to this moment, and I just looked at her and laughed as I held her, then I got nervous about holding a newborn, and gave her back.

We spent the next day in two rooms side by side. I was able to visit as much as I wanted, but I didn’t want her to hear my voice all day, I wanted her to hear her parents on more than just the recordings I played for her. I wanted them to be able to bond without me around. So I sat and rested in my room a lot. It was surreal being there and not having nurses barge in every hour. I was stir crazy to see my kids and get home. We had worried that they wouldn’t be able to visit, but like we were on some clandestine spy mission, we managed to sneak them in, and they got to meet her too. It was an awesome moment our family and theirs enjoying this baby together. Her mom dressed her in a onesie we had bought for her to meet the kids. It was a very sweet gesture and funny, because did not look tiny in the three to sixth month outfit. I don’t know how this kid got so chubby, I have never seen a newborn with fat rolls.

There weren’t tears as we parted because I was going to miss her. The tears came when I thought they wouldn’t let me leave that night, i just wanted to go home. I wanted her to be able to go home too, I wanted their family to be home, with her brother. I was so relieved to be done with the birth, to be done with the fun of having nurses take you to pee, to be done being responsible for someone else’s child. That anxiety was gone, I was tired and I just wanted to be at home. When they told me I couldn’t leave because she would have to be discharged too (our records were tied together in the system), I broke down in tears. Her parents very graciously wanted to make sure I could go home though, so they had her discharged and checked into pediatrics for some jaundice treatment. I was free and could return to my family!

Really, the only weirdness in this process came when I had to sign things as the birth mother, and when I couldn’t leave the hospital until the baby was ready, or she was checked into pediatrics, because our records were linked. It will be nice someday when forms, and hospital protocols have gestational carrier as a category, instead of birth mother. I am not a birth mother, I have not had to sacrifice my relationship with my own child to give them a different life. I simply carried someone else’s baby. I hope those things will get easier for families, and while I don’t think everyone should be a gestational carrier, I do think it’s an important option for parents who can’t carry their own children.

So that’s how gestational carriers, have babies, or at least this one. I know I would be curious about this process. It may not be the typical story, but it’s ours. It felt like a marathon, and though the race is over, the adventure is not. We have a new family member, a whole new part of our family with theirs and a love that will last a lifetime. I can see now,

God’s hand in all of it, from start to finish taking care of every detail I worried about and making it so much better than I could have imagined. All the worry, all the indignity was totally worth it. I am just so thankful to have been a part of something so positive and life affirming, even if it had to happen without my underwear on.

I want to live in the grey areas

I learned a long time ago in a high school photography class that the best pictures aren’t from bright sunny days, the cloudy ones can actually be better. Clouds filter the light and add a little grey which actually makes things pop a little better in the shot. I want to live in the grey when it comes to looking at issues and people. I don’t want to vote based one one issue, and let that define whether I think someone is right or wrong. It’s not that I don’t think there are certain issues that are black and white, definite right and wrong things, but I don’t want to live in those spaces, I don’t want to look at at people through those lenses. I want to live in the grey first. I want to see the person living through the issue and not the issue itself.

I used to think things were a lot more black and white, but I as I have experienced more of the world, met more people, learned more of their stories, things are changing for me. I don’t see things so clearly defined anymore. One of the biggest confrontations with my black and white thinking came during our surrogacy journey. In order to work with our agency, we had to agree to terminate a pregnancy if there was an issue of severe disability and the baby’s parents wanted to terminate. This was a huge decision for us. We very much value life, and we were hurt very deeply when someone close to us had a late second term abortion, even after we offered to adopt the baby. Both Valentine and I saw abortion as something not to be used for birth control but something to be used when life was in danger. Disability was a different issue entirely. As we talked to the agency and each other more about this issue we learned a great deal about why someone would terminate. Apparently early termination was much more common in international surrogacy situations, even in very highly developed, wealthy countries. In those countries there does not always exist the same support for children with severe disabilities that the US has. Kids with disabilities may not be as accepted by communities and in the larger family context. In short, it can be much harder to raise a child with severe disabilities and their quality of life much less, than what we might expect here in the US for children. We also know kids in the US with severe disabilities and we know how hard it is for their families, even with the opportunities available to them.

This wasn’t just an issue about the child’s health either, it was very intimately intwined with my own health and the mental health of our family. I have known women that had to carry pregnancies to term, that they knew would end in tragedy. I have watched them carry their babies, knowing that they would die shortly after birth. Yes there are miracles where death in babies is beaten, but there are also great medical advances that can give us a pretty certain picture of what lies ahead. Those that carry their terminal babies to term get to enjoy what precious moments they have with their baby, before they die. They enjoy kicks and movements, and can soak it all in. Our baby’s parents would not have had that luxury. I would have been the one experiencing that, I also would have been taxing my body, and my family’s endurance emotionally day after day for a very horrible outcome. I have to say too, after the miscarriage, after being the only one to “hold” that baby with my body, I can’t imagine going through an entire pregnancy to have that same awful outcome. After much thought and prayer, Valentine and I made the decision to allow someone else to make that decision for their baby that we would carry. We made the decision to allow an abortion if we found out the baby had a fatal condition or would have severe disabilities. We decided that we would not to international surrogacy as that would up the probability of making such a hard choice, but we decided we would ultimately let the parents choose. It was not easy, but we looked into the stories behind the issue, and the people that would be affected and we just couldn’t see it in black and white anymore.

You may not agree with that decision, you may even be pretty angry with us for it, that’s ok. You don’t have to agree, and honestly my need to live in the grey is about so much more than abortion. There are so many issues that people decide are the absolutes of how they will base their vote. We have so many things that we cannot imagine as anything more than completely right or completely wrong. I just worry that when we do that, we dismiss the people and the stories behind those issues. We see the issue instead of the person. I think that doesn’t help morality or people, it dehumanizes and demoralizes. Whether it’s abortion, guns, welfare, marriage equality whatever it is, you name the issue, there are so many complexities surrounding it, that you really have to hear the stories, and get to know the people behind them. We also have to realize that no one candidate or law is going to fix any of these issues. Something isn’t going to suddenly become legal or illegal because of one elected official. Something also might not need to be made a law, if other parts of the story are addressed.

I want to vote from and live in the grey area. Honestly, I think that is what Jesus did. When approached with religious law breakers, Jesus addressed the person first. He knew them, he spent time with them he didn’t just dismiss them for their issues. Yes he would steer them in a different direction, he would tell them if they were wrong, but that came later, that came after he loved them as a person first, and sometimes, he didn’t even have to say anything, just being in his presence, and being loved by him was enough to change their lives. I want to see the overall picture of the candidates, how their position on a bunch of different issues comes together, and how they came to those positions. I want to see how they treat others when they too are forced to live in the grey. I want to try harder to see the person and not the issue.

Hitchiker Adventures #6: She isn’t lacking in love

Recently, upon finding out that I don’t feel the same way about the Hitchhiker as I do about my own kids, someone in my life has taken to praying for the Hitchhiker, “that she will know she is loved”. Not that she will know she is loved by God, but by her family and by ours. Now I might not put much thought into this, except for the fact that it’s the same person who thought since I liked the Hunger Games, I must not like children very much. This person also continually asks how I will “give up the baby” and when I say it’s not going to be a problem, they respond with “I could never do that”. So the implication I get from this prayer is that, perhaps the Hitchhiker is not feeling loved, since she is residing in my belly, since I don’t think of her like I thought of my own kids, and I don’t want to keep her. This person even made up their own name for the Hitchhiker, because they seemed to think that Hitchhiker was sweet enough. When my basketball sized uterus feels really heavy, this makes me angry, but when I am sitting here with this squirming little girl inside me just enjoying her temporary presence, it just makes me laugh. Really?!? This baby is one of the most loved babies ever, and she is teaching us so much about what love means.

look at that, that’s love!

First off, let’s establish, that this baby would not be in my belly were it not for love. Love more than anything else motivated me to go on this crazy adventure in the first place. Following Jesus command to love one another, and to serve led me to this. Anytime I had an objection to doing this, like my body was going to get wrecked, always in the back of my mind was the question, “is that a reason not to love someone?”When people told me it would be harder because I was 38 and not 28 like when I had my last baby, again the question was, “but is that a reason not to love someone”. (and by the way, it isn’t any harder, it’s the same hard!). Love for his kids, made my husband decide we could do this. Love for a family they had just met, made my kids excited to do this. Love from her parents led them to put their trust in a stranger, and give her to us for 9 months. They loved her so much, they took this huge scary, complicated step. Her whole existence right now is rooted in love, and each day she grows love grows right along with her.

We are learning so much about how fun love is, through this process. We have seen how messy and hard and awkward it can be, as I went through so many procedures, and we endured the death of the first Hitchhiker. We have also learned though how crazy fun love can be, when you just do love, as Bob Goff says in his book Love Does. We are having fun with this baby. We have a whole new part to our family now, with her family. That is fun. We get to relive the experiences we had when our kids were born, through their eyes, and share in their excitement. I love that! I love sharing the things that excite me with others, whether it’s mission trips to places I have been before, or new friends, and this pregnancy takes that to a whole other level. We get to have fun on this adventure with them, and my kids are old enough to remember and understand it all too. They feel the baby move, they marvel at how huge I am getting, they think about what it means that she can hear us. Plus everyone gets to make jokes about how I am pregnant but it’s not Valentine’s. She is not experiencing a depressing, lonely, joyless existence. Love is all kinds of fun and she is along for that ride!

Love makes it fun to surprise people with her story too. It’s fun to educate them about surrogacy, but it’s also fun to explain why we would do something so nutty. People aren’t used to hearing about love like this, and when they really hear it, they often well up. They are encouraged by it, they enjoy it, they all of a sudden get to be in on the fun, and the miracle of it all. She hears recordings of her family reading her stories too, so all you psych experts can be assured she will have in utero attachments to them as well, it’s not just our love she is getting now. I am sure at some point in her angsty teenage years, she will feel a bit awkward about her origin story, but what kid doesn’t? I’m still cringing over the Super Bowl baby commercials. Her story is a unique love story, but a fun one.

Love endures space and time too. Just because she won’t be with us, doesn’t mean we won’t love her still. Our family has had the privilege of loving so many people over the years who aren’t a daily part of our lives right now. They are still very much a part of us. We can’t hold all the youth group kids we have loved hostage with us, they grow up and leave. Friends live far away. We don’t give them up ever, we just love them from afar. It may not be as intimate as the love we have in our family of four, but it is love still. We still think about them, and keep up with them when we can, and we enjoy having people to love all over the world. We are still as present with love for them as we can be, and will be for her too. She will always have a connection to us and she will always be loved by us.

I can’t imagine that will all of that, this baby would ever not feel loved, because gestated in my belly. Just because I am not planning for her babyhood, or weeping because she won’t be with us in a couple more months doesn’t mean she won’t know love. This is  a once in a lifetime adventure unlike any other we have been on, and I know that is because it is all about love. She is right smack in the middle of it all, hearing the joy, feeling the love.  So no one needs to pray that she will know she is loved. She is a little physical representation of love and how hard, scary, vulnerable, but more so, how beautiful, awesome and fun it is!

Feed me and tell me I’m pretty, or at least quit telling me how big I am...

There is just something about pregnancy that gives people some sort of bizarre permission to break those unmentioned societal rules and tell you to your face how awful you look. Normally such conversation is reserved for celebrities caught without their makeup, or after eating particularly large meals, but apparently pregnancy also warrants such public proclamations of your ugliness.

Unfortunately for the non celebrity humans among us, there is no army of stylists, personal trainers, nutrition experts, cooks, skin care professionals and hair and make up people, to make us look our best most days. So yes, I am getting very wide, and looking very tired these days. I didn’t just spend the holidays on a yacht in St. Barts with a chef and other famous people, I spent it with family, being fed one unhealthy treat after another while I rushed from work event to another, only to finally collapse in my parent’s house in Arizona for a week of lazy recovery and the always relaxing “family time”. I am almost thirty eight, I have a busy family and a busy full time job, even when I am not pregnant I tend to look tired and bloated. That is life people! I don’t really do makeup, you’re lucky that I shower at least once a week. This is as good as I am going to get, so get used to it, be grateful when I am slightly put together and less repulsive.

Get used to it, and don’t talk to me about it, really, seriously. It’s not funny when you compare say my extra large dog now looks like a poodle next to my new girth (that was seriously said). It’s not cute when you point out how much bigger I look, or more tired. I am well aware as is EVERY woman and man too, of my physical imperfections. I am bombarded every day not only with the mirror, but retouched images and plastic surgeries individuals that are supposed to serve as some example of what I should look like instead of the lumpy, dark, baggy eyed person in front of me. My body is growing a freaking person, that is hard work, it’s not going to look great. Pointing out how great it doesn’t look to a hormonal woman is as bad as saying it to a teenage girl, knock it off.

In fact let’s all STOP! Remember that saying, if you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, or to someone, don’t say anything at all? Quit saying it, quit reading it, quit picking up the magazines and watching the segments and clicking on the links that talk about how bad so and so looked, or how much better you could look if only you did....

It’s ridiculous. People are meant to age, meals are meant to be eaten, people gain weight, get wrinkled and saggy, people get bigger when they are pregnant. It happens people, so let’s quit expecting everyone to look good all the time, or let’s quit taking so much notice when they don’t. Let’s watch what we say.

I saw a maternity shirt that said, “Feed me and tell me I’m pretty”.  I think we should pass those out in Hollywood. Maybe if they get to eat and look normal, the rest of us can too.

Hitchhiker Adventures #5: I’m not sad that I won’t get to take this baby home, so stop being sad for me!

Here is the thing, I do not want a baby. I HAVE two awesome children whose stages of growing up I enjoy very much, even if it means my thirteen year old turns into a raging, disney princess on occasion. I have been blessed with them, and they are enough for me.
I have no wish to go back to diapers, bottles, attempting to breastfeed with my body that refuses to make enough milk, daycare drama and all that comes with having a baby. I am quite content to snuggle my large children and my extra large dog, I don’t need a sleeping baby on my chest (sleeping babies are ticking time bombs of mess, hunger and incoherent need). My children may be emotional time bombs, but at least when they explode, we can usually decipher the source of the problem and quiet it, relatively soon, and if we can’t, well we can always send them to their room. We can even leave the house, and leave them there to let everyone cool off for a bit, because they are old enough now to be left alone for a bit. I love parenting my kids, I am glad they are not infants anymore and I have no desire to parent an infant again. Why isn’t that okay?

The hardest work of this surrogacy process is behind us, and now it’s time to have some fun. No more shots, no more twice a week blood draws and weekly vaginal ultrasounds, hopefully, we just have easy OB appointments and a stretching waistline from her on out, well until delivery I guess. But while I am having fun watching my own older children freak out over heartbeats and baby movements, and telling people the baby is not my husbands, other people aren’t laughing along with me, they are giving me sad, sympathetic looks. Over and over again people say, “how are you going to give up that baby?” “How are you doing psychologically” and on and on and on. It’s as if they are just waiting for my to run off to a foreign country and refuse to hand the baby over to it’s parents. When I tell them I don’t want a baby, they just say, “but it’s a baby!” as if that is some magical creature you simply cannot live without and must form extreme attachments too. They keep trying to tell me I am sad, not accepting any of the reasons I offer for not being so. Seriously people you are killing the buzz from my hormonal high, stop giving me sad eyes, and let me enjoy gestating a baby I don’t have to raise!

Please don’t misunderstand me, I get that babies are important to people, I get that so much I am helping another couple have a baby by gestating it myself. I understand that having a baby can be very hard work for some, I just did that hard work. I understand too, that some will never get to have a baby, I grieve for them, but grieve for them not me. I enjoyed the experience of welcoming my children into the world, snuggling them close and nurturing their tiny little lives. I appreciated it, I treasured it, but I also stressed out through it because it was hard work, really hard work. Parenting at any age is hard work, but there is something about infancy, perhaps the lack of sleep, the cluelessness you feel in caring for someone with very limited capacity to communicate, the overwhelming feeling of facing down a lifetime of carrying for that tiny little person. I appreciate babies, but I had mine and I am done with that.

I have no desire to keep this baby. I care for this baby, I talk to it,I laugh when it I feel it’s alien movements inside me, but I have no desire to raise it. I am not giving it up, I am delivering it to it’s parents. Sure I will cry, my body will be a physical wreck with no baby bjorned infant to cover it, and hormones pouring out, you would cry too. The tears won’t be over a baby left. This is not my baby. I am not a birth mother. This baby has physical connections to it’s parents and not to me. I am a prenatal childcare provider. That reminds me, do people ask daycare workers how they “give up those babies” at the end of the day? It really is just a hitchhiker, one that I will bond with while we enjoy the ride together, one that I will try and keep in touch with, but one that I will be able to let go of.

I look at the letting go like this, every year I take students on trips to serve others, and these are incredibly powerful experiences that are hard to let go of when they end. I work for a year for a one to two week trip, trying to create a powerful experience for those being served and those serving. There is so much work and preparation with the team, so many meetings and appointments. The trip itself is intense; so many relationships are made and deepened. When the trip is over, it is hard for a bit. There is a loneliness and a let down, because the experience is over, and you won’t see those people anymore. There is a longing to see them again, and a fondness for all that happened, but there is also a satisfaction in the experience. The satisfaction and the memories are enough, and any contact you have in the future or opportunity to experience the adventure again is just the whip cream on top of an amazingly sweet experience. So will it be hard when this pregnancy is over, yes, but not hard because I will go home infantless. It will be hard because the adventure will be over. There will be loneliness because I will not have the same amount of contact with the family as I currently do. We will both be busy, we will check in, but not as often. I won’t have so many people acting as cheerleaders, and encouraging me with cards, emails and texts. There will be a bit of a let down, but that is okay, because the adventure will have been so amazing and the results so rewarding, it will be enough, and anything else that comes of it will just be extra awesomeness.

They aren’t cute all the time either, you want to cuddle this one? that’s me by that way

So please save the worry and the sadness for those that actually do have to give up their babies, and the families that adopt them, look for ways to support them, and just laugh with me. I am knocked up with someone else’s baby, a frozen science baby at that. Let’s enjoy the weirdness, the humor and the adventure of it all.

I am not awesome, I am angry

My husband gave a speech today at Toastmasters. He talked about his wife convincing the family to do surrogacy, and how he was against it at first, but then he came around. He came around because my generosity inspired him, and his love for his kids challenged him to make that possible for someone else. He gave a speech today about how awesome this has been for our family, and how amazing I am.

Today, amazing me, worried and fretted, and pleaded with God and second guessed and basically just freaked out. Today generous me, wondered why the hell I decided to do this in the first place. Today I thought maybe God was punishing me.

I thought all those things as I waited for the blood to start flowing, like it did last Saturday, in a sudden, scary gush. It was nothing like the bleeding I experienced with both of my own children. That was alarming, this was terrifying. Thankfully within a couple of hours it stopped. Those hours were awful. When you call the reproductive specialists and report bleeding, they basically tell you to get off your feet and wait. You wait, and wait to see if this is just a something, or if this is the worst.

Wednesday we found out it was just a something, but a something that could turn into the worst. It’s a hemorrhage common with IVF, in fact as many as half of all IVF patients run into this complication to various degrees. They kind of gloss over these kinds of things when you sign on for this. “You could have complications as IVF has a higher complication rate, but everything looks really good on your end, so I don’t think we have anything to worry about” they say after physically evaluating you. With the first Hitchhiker, I had one of these hemorrhages, but it was small and resolved before it ever showed up anywhere but the ultrasound, it really was no big deal. This one though is big, bigger than the baby’s entire life containing sac, and it sits right next to him. It’s blood vessels trying to bring more blood to the uterus, but too much or it’s part of the lining tearing away. Whichever it is, it’s a growing clot of blood,and if it grows too much it will kill the baby. “It’s a pretty sizeable one” the doctor said in a sober voice. Then he went on to tell me not to have sex or exercise until we saw improvement, but “that’s really just so you don’t feel like you have caused anything bad to happen”. In reality, there is nothing I can do to stop it, or make it worse. Nothing.

No, I just have to wait. I have to wait for more bleeding. A) a sign that it is emptying out and shrinking B) a sign it’s gotten worse and my body wants to keep bleeding or C) the beginning of a miscarriage because the clot has gotten the best of the baby. That is crap. Such crap. The percentages are in our favor, but still, seriously, I am waiting to bleed and then waiting to see if the bleeding is too much.

Next week if the worst hasn’t happened I will walk into another ultrasound appointment, with two desperate parents by my side, and we will wait to see. Will there still be a heartbeat, or just one giant clot of blood?

Seeing the heartbeat this week was supposed to be a big sigh of relief, the numbers were stronger, the symptoms stronger this pregnancy. We weren’t going to have to say that dreadful word miscarriage. But here we are saying it again, and talking about blood and how much is too much.

And in the midst of this, photos are all over Facebook of a woman’s “beautiful" 8 week old miscarried fetus. Those pictures aren’t beautiful to me. They are my nightmare. After another 3 months of medications, my hips so swollen with injected oil they burn and are covered in stretch marks, after losing one hitchhiker, I don’t want to see a beautiful 8 week old fetus anywhere but on an ultrasound with a flashing heartbeat. Because damn it, I have worked hard for this.

And there you go, awesome, generous me, is worried about all the work I have put in, and I want the experience I signed my family up for.  I want to hand over a full term baby to a happy couple. I’m pretty selfish at this point and I am anything but awesome. I am frustrated, I am angry, I am a nervous wreck.

I know it could be worse, so much worse. Women far more awesome than me have experienced far worse. I have two amazing kids tucked into their beds right now, in my home, far from danger. My life is pretty great actually. Which makes this worry, and anger, and frustration so much harder to bare.

Not wanting to see God in times of darkness, and how bears are scarier than Goliaths

Two weeks ago, I gave this sermon at our church. I hadn’t posted it, because I already posted a lot of these sentiments on the blog already but I saw a video of  couple announcing their miscarriage on Youtube this morning, and it really struck a nerve with me. They had JUST experienced a miscarriage, and they were praising God and thanking him for the opportunity to  minister to others through the experience, and were happy that God would work through it. Now, I think that is awesome that they were able to do that, to so quickly find God and fid the good, but not all of us can, and I couldn’t. I was so mad at God in the immediate days following the  miscarriage, I didn’t want to think about my faith, I didn’t want to pray, I wanted nothing to do with it, as the immediate pain washed over me, and that is part of the message I gave two weeks ago, when I shared with the church the story that had been playing out in my life with the Hitchhiker’s death, and how far I felt from God. I learned a lot as I processed those things this summer and studied David’s life for VBS and Alaska. So I decided to share this message on the blog today, for those of us that aren’t ready to immediately thank God and praise him in the darkest of circumstances.

When we hear the names, David and Goliath a lot of images come to mind, possibly from a children’s story book when we were little, but pretty typical we see and underwhelming little guy going up against and overwhelming big guy. There is so much more here than meets the eye.

When we get to this point in David’s story, he has already been portrayed as the kid that no one thinks much of. Samuel the priest was told by God to go to David’s house, the house of his father, Jesse and anoint the new king. When Jesse presents his sons, no one even thinks to go get David. David is the scrawny little shepherd kid. The other sons are the big brawny guys that can get things done. God sees to the heart though, and he has Saul anoint David as the future king, much to his family’s surprise. You would think that this would set David up to get more credit at home. You would hope, but no, when we get to this story, he is once again, the scrawny kid of the fields. No one believes in him. That is a horrible place to be, to be discounted and disrespected and treated as if you aren’t capable. David though, doesn’t let it flap him. He comes right at them, and says God got me through the times I had to fight off lions and bears in the field so he will get me through this.

Lets think about that for a second, this scrawny shepherd boy wasn’t just watching sheep in a field, he was protecting sheep in a wilderness that included lions and bears. Not little ones either, big lions and bears, the bear in question isn’t a berry eating black bear, no it’s a grizzly kind of bear that roamed the wilderness in those days in that place. These were big scary animals, and David was literally getting between them and their food on a regular basis.

A few years ago in Alaska we were working near an area known for it’s grizzlies, so we went to the river early one morning to see them. Pretty quickly we found a large grizzly in the middle of the river on a higher portion eating a salmon. It was a good distance out, so we ventured out of the van and near the river, so we could get a better view, where some other people were watching the bears. After we had watched it for a bit, the bear sniffed the air and noticed all of us, and seemed to decide that it did not want us near it’s food, so it headed into the water and toward the river bank. We very quickly got back in the van, but one of the other bear watchers stayed on the bank. We watched as the bear got closer and I started to panic. I had a van full of youth group kids and my own children and I didn’t want them to witness a bear mauling, and I had no idea how we could stop said bear mauling. The guy stood there for a while, and finally the bear got pretty close and slammed the ground with it’s front paws, a few times, and finally the guy took the warning and left. The bear did not want that guy near his food, and it was scary watching him protect it.

I cannot imagine what David went through regularly with the lions and bears that wanted his sheep. I have so many questions about this, like why did his dad send him out there, as a scrawny kid to defend sheep against lions and bears? Did he still get scared when they approached? How many times did he miss one when he was using his sling to make them go away, and how close did they really get? Our friends in Alaska run into bears often. One man from the church in Skagway, walks the tracks everyday of the train, and checks them. He has had a lot of bear encounters, and I asked him, if they no longer intimidate him, since he has seen them so much, and by the way the ones he sees are not grizzlies, but the smaller, less aggressive black bears. He told me that of course they are still intimidating, they can still kill you quickly if they wanted to, and especially if you are between them and their babies, or them and their food. David was regularly fighting off lions and bears to defend his sheep with nothing but his sling and his bare hands.

If we really look at this story, this whole Goliath thing from David’s perspective, wasn’t that big of a deal. In his Ted Talk, journalist and author, Malcom Gladwell really breaks down this story in detail and shows that with the cultural and historical context of war fare and the health and skills of these two warriors, it was really Goliath that was at the disadvantage hear, not the scrawny little shepherd. David couldn’t be an infantry soldier, as Goliath was, he couldn’t wear armor, he wasn’t big enough. He was a sling fighter, something they actually had for armies then. He would have been in the sling fighting company once he reached age to be an official part of the army. This battle between the Israelites and the Philistines was at a stand still, so the Philistines sent their biggest infantry soldier for combat, expecting that the isrealites would send someone similar in. David was not what they were expecting. Goliath himself, appeared huge and indefeatable, but if you look closely at the scripture Gladwell says, there are some pretty big indicators that he probably suffered from the same disease that many people of unusually large size do, making their vision very poor and making them vulnerable because of weaknesses in their brain structure and their arteries. So David was incredibly gifted with this sling, this sling that could turn rocks into bullets basically, from a distance and he was not going to be close, like hand to hand combat close to Goliath, making David’s skills even more powerful, and Goliath was vulnerable to this kind of attack. Really David had the advantage in this particular situation. He had the upper hand.

It wasn’t a huge miracle that day, it was something God had set up for years, every time David encountered a challenge with a lion and a bear, and some brothers that didn’t care. It was something that was born out of a lot of struggles that he had already, that made him ready for this giant one. I wonder though which was harder for David to get through, that encounter with Goliath or all of those other challenges before?

With Goliath, David knew exactly what he was getting into, he wasn’t going to be surprised like he was by the animals. He knew right where Goliath was and he was choosing to face him. As he made that choice he could reflect on all that God had brought him through and have confidence. I think the harder challenge is getting through the day to day struggles and those curve balls that come at us. It’s hard in those moments sometimes to see God and know that he is with us. It’s hard to have the faith that tells us though something isn’t easy, it is possible.

Recently I faced off with my own Goliath. I struggle with how much to share with you about it, but I stood in front of the congregation in December and told you about this challenge in December, and since then I haven’t really shared with you publicly what happened, I haven’t told you all the rest of the story.

We underwent the process for me to be a gestational carrier, to carry a baby that was not mine for a couple that couldn’t. It was a huge thing, but I felt confident that God had prepared me with so many other things in life to do this. I had that same attitude as David. God brought me through that other hard stuff, we got this, he will get me through.  It was a big adventure in loving my neighbor and following Jesus example to lay our life down for others. It was hard, there were lots of hoops and lots of medications, and injections, but it was all good, because Jesus had my back on this one, and all the evaluators agreed I had a good support system and was very physically and emotionally capable.  I had a few responses similar to David’s family and Saul when as we told people what we were doing, people doubted me, or doubted the sanity of doing such a thing, but it didn’t stop me. We transferred an embryo in January.  A few weeks and many positive pregnancy blood tests later, we got to see this baby, we had worked so hard for, and I watched as his parents were filled with joy to see his little tiny, still had a yolk attached self on the ultrasound machine. Three weeks later we went in for the second ultrasound, this time the baby was bigger, and there was no yolk sac, but there was no heartbeat either. He had stopped developing and died.

I wish I could say that in that moment I looked up to the heavens and said “The Lord gives and he takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord.” I didn’t, I couldn’t. I couldn’t wrap my head around this happening. I wish I could tell you I had faith in that moment that everything was going to be fine, but it wasn’t.  I didn’t have miscarriages, my body was super well prepared for this, my uterus was beautiful. I was following God’s call to serve others. This was not part of that, this couldn’t be part of that. I didn’t want to talk to God. I didn’t want to read scripture. I had the presence of mind to ask for prayer, because I knew we needed prayer for our two families at the time, but I couldn’t do it myself. I was hurt and confused and so horribly sad. As a youth leader I was living out one of my biggest nightmares, a child under my care had died. I love all my youth group kids as my own, but I am always very mindful that someone loves them and worries for them far more than I can, and here I was carrying someone else’s baby and it had died under my watch.  Why would God let this happen? I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want to know what positive things might come out of this in the future. At the hospital a week later as I was waiting to have the surgery to remove the baby, the chaplain came in, and wanted to help us remember and recognize the life of this baby, as if we could forget him. As I was laying there in nothing but a paper surgery gown she described tombstones, that we could have his name carved into, but he wasn’t ours to name. She went on and on, but I wasn’t even wearing underwear, I couldn’t process how to memorialize a baby that was currently dead inside of me, but wasn’t mine, without underwear on. It was cruel in that moment to even ask such a thing of me. Then she asked if she could pray with me, and I was so hurt I said no. Why would God send his representative in at a time like that with words like that for me? If God knew me and loved me, he would know

Thankfully even if we don’t want God, God still wants us. God pursued David, at times in his life when David was ignoring God. We can see in the Bible that God rescued David, even when David ran away. God came to David even when David rejected Gods ways. David amassed tons of wives, but he still had to have Bathsheba, another man’s wife, something that was definitely not okay with God. David had the Ten Commandments, he knew that was wrong, but he let his own desires take over his desire for God.  Even then God still pursued him, even then God loved him, even then God helped him get through. Yes there were still consequences to his actions, but God did not abandon him, even in David abandoned his desire to follow God. There is so much more to David’s story than the battle with Goliath. He is called the man after God’s own heart, yet he is far from perfect. He didn’t have to be perfect, because he served a perfect God, whose love was so perfect

Life was hard for David, the everyday things seemed to get in his way a lot, not just the big tragedies. The power of being a king would get to be too much for him. His own lust would prove to be too much for him. Parenting proved way too much for him, if you want to read some messed up Bible stories just take a look at the ones about David’s kids. At times he was confident, but we can see in the Psalms that he wrote, other times when he was afraid and felt that God had left him alone and helpless.  We can see by looking at his story though, that God never left him, we can see from his Psalms that though he had times of fear and doubt, David was always reminded again of God’s love, mercy and protection. God brought him through it all and wrote a story of his love through David’s life, but it wasn’t easy, Goliath, was the easiest part of the story it seems.

God is so willing to stand by us, like he stood by David, that even if we reject him, he is willing to continue pursuing us. Jesus sacrificed himself, so that we could be made right with God no matter what we do, we can be forgiven, no matter what we do, we can be friends with God. No matter what when we choose to follow God, he is with us.

I forget sometimes like David did, that God is with me. I forget that even when bad things are happening, he is in my corner, working things out in ways I might never see. I forget that he has worked some pretty big things out for me, and instead like David did, I hide in a cave of fear and doubt and depression. That is what I was doing after the baby died. Maybe you do that too. Maybe sometimes things overwhelm you and cause you to turn away from your faith and miss out on seeing the amazing, protecting and providing presence of God in your life. Thankfully though, God is willing to help pull us out of that, and he has also surrounded us in the church with people that are willing to be with us through hard times as a physical representation of God’s love.

God pulled me out of that darkness, very gently through the people he has placed in my life. He surrounded me with a family that loved me through it, and let me rest and heal. He surrounded me with friends that told me it was okay to be sad for a baby that wasn’t mine, and gave me permission to worry more about my feelings for a while than the baby’s parents’ feelings. He surrounded me with friends that reminded me that God mourned with me, and didn’t try and get me to put a positive spiritual spin on it as it was all so fresh and raw. He gave me two great friends in our pastor in Alaska and a local youth pastor, that gently reminded me that God was with me, but didn’t try and make me talk to him. He surrounded us with friends who quite literally fed us through that time, dropping food off at our door without even asking. When I felt so empty and do worthless, God literally wrapped me in love, through the presence of our giant great dane, who everyday would wrap his giant body around me on the couch for a while. The death of the baby was an unexpected bear attack and I panicked for a bit, but I wasn’t alone, God got me through, and slowly I was able to see that, and slowly make my way back to understanding his presence. What has he gotten you through? Or are you having trouble finding him at all?

A few months ago, we got the all clear to try again, and I along with the family of the baby were very excited and hopeful. Until I got the dates for the medications to start and the transfer itself. I had to start meds the week of Vacation Bible School and increase the doseages over the course of the Alaska Mission. I immediately started to panic. Originally with the first transfer I was supposed to be in that sweet spot of pregnancy where normally you had a lot of energy and felt pretty good considering you were growing a human. I was supposed to have a big baby belly to take pictures with in front of the Welcome to Alaska sign and put in a book of our adventures with the baby.  I wasn’t supposed to have an empty belly and be on meds that made me overly tired, cranky and nauseous.  So I prayed a lot, I would exhale prayers of Jesus help me, I prayed so much I probably more than made up for the days I didn’t want to talk to God, although I am pretty sure God doesn’t keep track of those things so it doesn’t really matter. I had to rely on God for everything, for the strength to get out of bed some mornings to the strength to stay awake long enough at night.

God came through. We had one of the most successful weeks of Vacation Bible School ever, thanks in very large part to the many incredible volunteers. I am still hearing from parents about the impact it has had on their kids, even their little kids, and the conversations that are now taking place around their homes about Jesus. I was weak, but he was strong and he provided so many willing volunteers who were much stronger than I.

Then Alaska rolled around a few days later, and I was really nervous about how I would be able to lead the team well. Again God provided. We had a drama free team of students, that all meshed well together despite being from two different churches. They worked hard and they really reached out to the community of Skagway.  We had a dream team of leaders with us that helped to make sure everything ran and were proactive in jumping in and getting things done. These things equipped me for the battle of a youth mission trip.

We were absolutely welcomed back to Alaska with open arms, and even so much sunshine we got sun burnt. Everywhere we went on our first full day there, we heard, “Portland is back! Welcome back Portland” and we were greeted with lots of hugs, smiling faces and excited anticipation for the week ahead. I saw one of our old Kayak guides, who had taken us kayaking on the lake and even he recognized us, and was glad we were back to work with the kids of Skagway. It was so encouraging to see that God had made our presence known in such a good way in that town, and that by doing so he was making himself known. Our faithfulness in going back, showed his faithfulness, our joy brought his joy, and our love showed his love. That is such a powerful thing. Every night people of the town made sure we had dinner, and it was always amazing. They even opened their businesses to us once again, and gave us free rides on the train, free kayaking and a free zip lining tour. We poured out God’s love and they flooded us right back with it. That was incredibly empowering and energizing to me.

Our programs were flooded with kids again. We had lots of little ones in Vacation Bible School so many that we had to add a third group the schedule. We had kids were at the age that they could come to both VBS and youth group at night, and they eagerly came. At youth group we saw all the old familiar face and were blasted with a bunch of new ones and new names to learn and it was fantastic.

One of the things that we had planned to do this year, that we had never done before, was have a lock in, which is our term for an overnight event at the church, only there are no locks on that church, so we just called it an overnight event. We wanted the students from Portland and Skagway to have more time together before we left, to form deeper relationships and share more experiences, because we really feel that it’s through those things that Jesus love is communicated the best. Several people told me this was a crazy idea, that we would already be exhausted and then to throw this in at the end of the week would be the end of us. We did it anyway, and it was amazing. This picture was taken that night,and my heart just bursts when I see how many kids were there, and all the old faces and the new ones, and all three groups of kids having so much fun together that you don’t know which one is from which group.

That night I had to take an extra injection of meds, because the doseages were increasing. I worried that it would tire me out, and I wouldn’t be able to make it through the night. There was a pause in the action, where the kids were entertaining themselves, so I decided to go in and take my meds, and when I came out, a mom from Skagway that had been helping with youth group all week was waiting for me. She had seen me getting all my supplies, and heard me talking to Spencer, so she asked if I was going through the invitro fertilization process. When I told her yes, she proceeded to tell me her story of invitro and multiple miscarriages, and I knew the ending to this story, because her twin daughters are two huge parts of our youth group up in Skagway and I absolutely adore them. I can’t tell you how encouraging that was, to hear her story, and to see those girls there having a blast with their Portland friends. It gave me the boost I needed to finish out an exhausting week. God provided, as I saw his faithfulnees to that mom, and how he helped her overcome the lion of infertility.  

Now I am staring down another bear. On Wednesday I go in for another embryo transfer. Last time it was so exciting. This time it’s not. I didn’t slay the giant last time, I didn’t make it to the end of a healthy pregnancy and hand over a healthy baby. The giant of this whole thing is looming over me and it looks bigger than ever. So I have to draw on all those bears God helped me slay in the past. I have to see that God got me through those so he will get me through this.  I have to look at this photo of us on the mission trip, in front of the Alaska sign. We didn’t stop on the way in to Alaska this year as we normally do, instead we stopped on the way out. Which was a huge blessing to me personally to not be confronted with that sign and the lack of a baby belly with which to take a picture. Instead we took this as we were leaving after a great week of seeing God work through us and through the people of Skagway, and I was able to stand there with a smile on my face.

What bears has God brought you through? What giants is he having you face down now? Are you able to see him at work in your life, or are you missing out because you are stuck in fear and doubt, or even shame about who you are or the circumstances of your life. God is there for you, God is supporting you, God is helping you slay those bears, you just have to look around and see him. You just have to choose to want to see him, and allow him to lead you. And if you feel like you can’t see him, like he isn’t there, or you don’t want him there, that is ok too, God won’t leave you, and someday, he will gently remind you of his love and his presence, and hopefully in the mean time you can be encouraged by the people around you, who are able to see God but mourn with you too. 

It still sucks...

I feel like I started this blog to tell and honest story, of life and not sugar coat things, to start conversations about stuff others want to leave unsaid. I started posting about surrogacy for the same reasons. Infertility is a huge thing with very little discussion. So I wanted to pull back the curtains on our experience and let people into a small part of that world. I haven’t posted for a few months, because I was embarrassed and hurt and I just couldn’t hit publish. I didn’t want to expose more of my feelings and more of my failures. I didn’t want people to think I was trying to garner sympathy or bemoaning a my life, that really is pretty good. I think though, I wasn’t doing this blog, or it’s origination justice. Here is the thing, five months ago a baby died when it was growing inside of me, and it still hurts. It still sucks. The pain is a little duller, mornings are a little easier to get through, but it still hurts and I think that needs to be said.

It’s not just that punch to the gut pain of grief that hurts either, it’s the sting of shame and embarrassment. Surrogacy is embarrassing in the best of circumstances. I have to explain why and see the immediate judgement in people’s eyes, when they hear that I have made this choice. Repeating the process though, man, that’s rough. Now I have to explain that I failed at it once. I mean I know that everyone says it wasn’t my fault, but again I go back to the language, miscarriage and lost. I question whether the doctors and the parents think my body is capable. As the clinic assures us that only the best embryos are implanted, it just makes me question, if it was the best embryo, then the problem may have been that it wasn’t the best uterus. Surrogate or not, having a pregnancy end like this is embarrassing, and implies failure even if that isn’t true.

There is a new pain with new shots. I wanted so badly to have another opportunity to get pregnant for this family, now that it’s here, I hate it. Last time the excitement of the adventure made the shots less painful. This time every shot hurts with a new sting of defeat. I wasn’t supposed to have to do this again. And what if this doesn’t take, can i really handle a third attempt?

All of it too calls into question the whole decision to do this in the first place. Is it worth putting my family in emotional harm’s way again? Is it worth putting my body through this again. Am I crazy for trying this? Is God even calling me to do this?

This is beyond hormones too. Yes the chemical equations of my body are out of whack, but this can’t be excused away with that. Those may magnify it, but the emotions are real. There was trauma here.

So yeah, I am functional, I am moving forward. I do find happiness in everyday, and I am excited about life still, but in the background is this massive sea of grief, shame and doubt. Sometimes the waves roll in and they are just tiny, and you can almost ignore them, but sometimes, they are huge, and briefly crippling, as they knock me down and disorient me.

Again, I don’t post this for sympathy, it’s not a cry for help. I just want to be a voice, for all those moms out there, surrogate, birth, adoptive or whatever, that have loved and had to say goodbye to their babies. It’s okay that you are still sad, days, weeks, or years later, and it’s ok to share that. if there is anything I find positive about this experience, it is that so many women have had the opportunity to tell me their story and to have their feelings acknowledged.

#RealizeI’mBlessed

I really don’t like #blessed. I think it’s used all wrong, for things that aren’t truly blessings. I also wonder if it touches, for some, on the Old Testament concept of your are blessed if things go right, and if they go wrong you are out of favor with God, like because I have this I am blessed, but if I don’t or you don’t, you aren’t. I think the better hashtag, is I Realize I'm Blessed. That is probably the sentiment behind #blessed, but I think it says it better. It’s like, I finally get it, in this moment, I understand I am blessed. We forget in the everyday mundane and in the bigger struggles, how blessed we are. We forget that just the adventure of life and the people on that adventure with us are a huge blessing.

I have learned that lesson over and over again, and yet still sometimes I forget. Thankfully I have been reminded. I have been reminded through this latest struggle that no matter what I may lose, I have so very much. I have incredible friends. I have amazing parents, and even though they live far away, they cannot wait to hug me and love me and care for me and my family tomorrow. I have a husband who struggles with so much but is still able to be strong enough to support me. I realize that no matter what I go through I am blessed.

I get these words of Jesus so much more now, the Beatitudes.

3 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

4 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

5 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

6 “You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

7 “You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

8 “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

9 “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

10 “You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

11-12 “Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. Matthew 5:3-12 (MSG)

I have had so many adventures, more than I ever thought possible and I have been and continue to be grateful for them. It was out of that and out of my desire to follow Jesus, that I wanted to be a part of other people’s adventures. I wanted to make the dreams of others come true. I wanted my family and another family to experience big dream coming true things. So I was so “care-full”, with everything I could give to the experience of surrogacy. And it may have come crashing down, but in that crash I understood, how cared for I was and am. So many people cared for me during this past few weeks, and I am so incredibly grateful. While I felt a great deal of despair, now I am feeling a lot of joy. It still hurts, when I see a pregnant person, and stings, when a surrogacy storyline comes up in something I am watching, but I am reveling in the understanding of the love and care I am surrounded with. 

I  want to be clear, I don’t see God as the architect of this miscarriage, but I see him as the amazing restoration company transforming this disaster and making my life livable and better than ever. I don’t think he made this baby die to teach me or anyone else something. That little life was precious to him too. I do think though that he is helping me to see how blessed I have always been. He is opening my eyes to a whole new world and letting me walk for a bit in the shoes of others. I have walked through a piece of infertility. I have walked through grief and loss. I have walked through the depression that my husband and so many others suffer with, and even if it’s only for a little bit, I will be able to connect with others to walk with them in their pain a little bit better now. This has been a huge mess, but God is helping me clean it up and things are looking better than they did before. There are still some dust bunnies lurking in the corners, a ring that won’t come off the bathtub, dried on paint in the sink, but I can look at it all and see it as more beautiful than before. 

I’m coming to terms with the idea that we may not get to try again. This tragic pregnancy may be my last, this dream may not come true, this adventure halted. At least I tried. I gave it my all. I lived life to the fullest. I loved my neighbor as fully as I could, and it may not ended the way we wanted, but there was love. It may not have gone the way we wanted it to, but at least I did it, and in doing so, I received so much more than I gave. We lost someone so dear and I have been embraced by the one who is most dear. Friends have quite literally fed me with their love. He is putting my world right and I can see that so clearly now. I was at the end of my rope, I may be at the end of this adventure, but God is here with me. 

The ends don’t justify the means of this experience, but they make it more livable and they help me realize again that I am blessed. 

just two of my many many undeserved blessings