1, 2, 3...KICK!

I was a ripe 13 year old when Karate Kid came out in the theaters. I remember thinking how Ralph Macchio was so cute. I remember singing the Bananarama song "Cruel Summer." But I also remember that infamous kick that knocked his opponent on his ass forever more. After much hard work, "Wipe on, wipe off," the Karate Kid triumphed.

So when A. wrote me yesterday to tell me our baby kicked for the first time, I felt triumph. Puttering around my apartment this morning on a lazy Saturday, it just hit me that this is a big deal. Our baby is moving around in there and is getting big enough for A. to feel in her belly. I felt (not literally) a physical connection with this kid. Every kick is a triumph, even when I have to imagine what that must feel like.

Surrogate children are psychologically well: study

It's always nice when mainstream articles can allay some fears that someday my child might have a total mental breakdown because of all this surrogacy and donor egg business. I worry my kid might have some sort of intense identity crisis, but what person doesn't go through identity issues? If it isn't about genetics, it can be about a whole assortment of things- gender, race, culture, career, sex, marriage, the whole gamut that life throws at you. Who's to say my kid is more likely to be a serial killer or go on a shooting rampage at their high school? But of course as a nervous mother-to-be, I google every once in a while to see what's out there on the subject. So when I found this article, it was reassuring to see this opening paragraph:

"Children born to a surrogate mother or conceived through donated sperm or a donated egg do just as well psychologically as counterparts who are naturally conceived, a study unveiled on Sunday said."

Usually I cringe when I see an article on surrogacy or donor egg because inevitably it's about a celebrity, or it's got nasty maniac comments posted after the article, or it's just sensational nonsense. But after starting this article I continued to read on:

"We found that the family types did not differ in the overall quality of the relationship between mothers and their children and fathers and their children," Casey said.

Mothers who had had their child through surrogacy and egg donation tended to be more sensitive to their child's worries and anxieties compared with donor insemination mothers and natural conception mothers, but the difference was minor, she added.

As for the child's view of family relationships, children of all backgrounds placed their mother or father in the closest circle with the same frequency.

There was no significant difference between family types when it came to self-esteem."

I am sure there are many arguments out there that try to say the opposite of this article. I have read about children of donor parents feeling angry about not being told the truth. I have read about donor kids feeling orphaned by no knowledge of the donor. I have read some moral and religious arguments that make me gage even as I write these words acknowledging their existence. But I can only work with the life I can give this child. The only thing in my power is to make sure this child is loved completely and truthfully. So I am putting aside all my past fertility cluster fucks and believing that this kid is going to be okay. After all that ruminating about chromosomal problems, we decided to just do the AFP blood work. If that comes out bad we'll consider an amnio but at this point we aren't planning on one. We'll just have to run on faith that not only will this kid dodge the down's syndrome bullet, but to the best of our abilities will also be "psychologically well."

FOR FULL ARTICLE GO TO: Surrogate Children are psychologicaly well; study - AFP

AMA: Advanced Maternal Age or just Appearing More Advanced?

Upon returning from a quick visit with A. and our fabulous 15 week 5 day baby, we were presented with the option for an amnio. Not that there have been any indicators for problems, but if you want to do one, now is the time. Now, hmmm, wasn't there a very good reason I used a 26 year old egg donor and a 31 year old surrogate? Oh yeah, to precisely LOWER such risk factors as downs syndrome and miscarriages and endless testing. So if I was 26 years old right now and knocked up, would this same doctor be telling me all these risks and making me decide if I would terminate or risk losing a healthy pregnancy with an amnio? Probably not. He would say you are at low risk at 26 years old and would probably imply that there wasn't a pressing need for an amnio unless there is family history. He'd then proceed to scoot me out the door.

But I am not 26 years old. I am a 38 year old who got another woman pregnant with another woman's egg. So does this change anything? Not really. But does this pregnancy somehow appear more risky because I appear to be at advanced maternal age even though I had nothing to do with this pregnancy? Shouldn't I be getting that same scoot out the door with relief that I am young and low risk? Instead I am feeling like a woman who has to decide between two risks - a down syndrome baby or a miscarriage of a healthy pregnancy from an amnio. I thought my options between horrible and extra horrible were finally over now that I was pregnant. So why do I feel pressure to do an amnio? Is it the worst case scenario in me always believing that I will be the one that always falls in that 1% chance? Way to set a person into unnecessary panic.

So this is making me feel rather advanced in maternal age even though my pregnancy is not. I mean really, at this junction what really matters about my age? I'm completely cut out of the reproductive part of this story so isn't my age meaningless? At worst people could call me an "old" mother. But sticks and stones, a-holes, sticks and stones. By my own body clock, yes, I am 38 years old. I will be 48 when this child is 10 years old and at the starting line of adolescent frenzy. I will be 58 when the child is 20 years old and finishing up college. I will be 68 when the child is 30 years old and I start badgering him or her to get married so I can see some grand kids before I croak. I will be 78 when the child is 40 years old, and God help us all, hopefully their sperm or eggs haven't shriveled up like mine had by then.

After 3 years of IVF, ectopics, miscarriages, am I prepared to raise a donor egg child that might have downs syndrome? Nope. But am I equally prepared to lose a healthy pregnancy that we've spend thousands of dollars on and went through emotional chaos about because I was given an option for an amnio? Nope. So I am left to soul search through this trying to believe that I'm not going to get screwed over again and again and again. I should be at low risk as a 26 year old, but I am so used to being at high risk for everything. Don't I at least deserve to reap the benefits of my egg donor after giving up so much of myself and my sanity to have this child?

The Thaw

Today was the first time I felt like it's summer. After doing a lot of traveling and gazing outside my window at heavy rain, it was great to just walk around today. Enjoying the sunny warmth and city bustle made me feel more officially in the season of popsicles, open toe shoes, and breezy afternoon drinks in New York City. I started to finally feel a thaw in my present state. I think the coldest parts of my infertility trauma are starting to liquify. Something in me is melting because things that I didn't think I could handle are happening. I was able to talk to a friend who I had cut out of my life for two years because she seriously disappointed me by the way she told me she was pregnant. I am able to see friends with newborns and feel happy for them and be excited to experience the same thing. I am able to talk to people about the excitement of my baby coming. I am able to look at pregnant women without wanting to curse at the heavens. Who am I?

It's a good thing, this normalization. I resist it as much as possible because I don't feel ready to believe that these weird and horrible experiences are behind me. I seem to want to hold on to my war wounds. But the start of my fists unclenching is probably the first sign of softening. The venom I have toward the universe, toward fertile people, toward my bad luck is starting to become a little less poisonous. I am allowing myself to feel giddy about seeing A. and our 15 week ultrasound this tuesday. It may seem strange to have to remind myself of this little blessing growing in her, but it's also not so inconceivable when you use a surrogate and donor egg to go through your day and not remember you are pregnant. It's quite easy in fact. So I am marking my weeks of pregnancy and I am starting to be able to dream a little bit about life with this new baby.

A friend who went through IF and now has a baby said she is starting to try to join "the mommy club" and I wonder how this is going to work for me. I am so irritated by the idea of talking shop with other mothers who don't have a clue about what I went through but I can't avoid everyone who hasn't been through IF. But right now fellow infertiles seems like the safest people to be around. I know I will want to have other mothers to bond with, but wouldn't it be fun to have a club for mothers who have gone through IF. We could name it "MIFTED"- Mothers and Infertility: The Extraordinary Dames. Or "MIRTH" - Mothers and Infertility Rock the House. Maybe even a secret handshake so we know who each other are.

This one is too big, this one is too small, this one is just right

I had a weird dream last night. It was one that so obviously wreaks of anxiety and anticipation. All in all I have been feeling really great about the coming of our little one. A. seems to be tired but doing just fine. She has some heartburn and the biggest boobs of any of her pregnancies. It figures that my baby creates big boobs when I'm not the carrier. Maybe that's the real tragedy of my infertility is that I will never have big boobs, but that's another story. I am still slowly telling people. But I think you could say that I am ready to fast forward through these next 6 months of pregnancy. I am sort of bored with it because I am not carrying the pregnancy. I am in the mood to just skip right to the ending. Give me the baby already.

So in my dream I am very much like Goldilocks. I guess in a lot of ways I feel like I am in someone else's house since I am using a surrogate and donor egg. I am trying to find a spot that feels just right, but deep down I fear I don't belong. So I woke up this morning with the memory of this pretty strange dream. A. is giving birth and this enormous baby comes out of her. It's like a gigantic baby that proceeds to stand up and walk around and talk. I am bewildered and confused by it's size and how grown up it is. I am trying hard to see if it looks like my husband or the donor but get distracted by it's size. I turn to my husband and say, "That huge baby came straight from her uterus!" Then fade to black. The second part of my dream is the opposite. A little tiny baby comes out of A. and at first I am relieved it is much smaller than that enormous baby before, but then I see that it's just the size of my palm. I gasp and ask if we can incubate the baby and I am told it won't make it. I am devastated.

It's pretty clear generally what this all means. Of course I am still scared something is going to go wrong, but I am also so curious about what this baby is going to be like. Just like Goldilocks who tries to find the right porridge, right chair, and right bed, I am hoping to find the right child. Of course with donor egg I have all these fears about whether this is going to be the right kid for me, but obviously this is "right" or else we wouldn't be blessed with this new life. There is a great line in movie where this guy describes his dream girl who would have a big rack, sexy long legs, etc. etc. But then he talks about his girlfriend and he says, "She's better than my dream girl, she's real." So I know this is what it will be like for me too. The baby of my dreams through all this infertility is all theory, fantasy, hope, but this baby coming in January will be real. That's why I need January to be here NOW! Thanks for waiting with me.

The Art of Evading Questions

Politicians do it. Celebrities do it. Why not infertiles? As I embarked on the first announcement to friends of our pregnancy, I didn't do much prep for spin control. I figured we'd just explain we are using a surrogate and that would be that. No mention of donor egg necessary at this point. It all went well in terms of reactions, which came as a huge relief. Joy, laughter, tears were all part of the response to our good news. The one thing I didn't figure out before hand is how to evade the questions about eggs.

We all know there is an art to evading certain questions you are not ready to answer. If you do this with confidence and finesse, no one will question you. I learned this by not having the right answer the first time around. When we told the first set of friends, I wasn't ready for this question:

"So how does it work? Is it the surrogate's egg or yours?"

I had some choices for this answer that I realized only in retrospect:

A) Lie and say, "My egg."

B) Withhold info and say, "Oh, it's not the surrogate's egg." (not the same as lying)

C) Sort of a lie, but not really, and say "No, they put our embryo in her." (In the most gruesome of terms we did buy the egg that made the embryo, so it's "our" embryo).

D) Spill the beans and tell the truth and disclose about the donor egg.

E) None of the above, just run.

So being caught off guard, I went with Choice D and told them about the donor egg. Even though we had no intention of telling them. But I really didn't know how to evade the question. We explained that we are keeping this private among close friends and family and that we feel strongly it it the child's story to tell, not ours. They understood.

But lesson learned. For the second try with another friend, we tried to bypass questions altogether and just told her we are using a surrogate and our embryo. That seemed to work and yet I had a lingering feeling of guilt that I wasn't revealing the whole truth. I explained we want it to be the child's story and began some non-sensical garbage about our hesitation to tell people which I could tell just started to confuse her. I could see her puzzled look and knew she was probably thinking, "What's the big deal if the child is genetically yours?" Which of course, it is not. But I realized I don't need to get into much, just keep it short and to the point. I am hoping this guilty feeling passes in time. However, I am finding that Choice C seems to be a good one for us. Just like the SATs, I remember some prep course teacher saying, "If you don't know the answer, choose C." It was something about the odds being in your favor that more "Cs" would be a correct answer.

Coming out of the closet in the 2nd Trimester

I awoke bright and early this morning, solely due to jet lag, and felt a strong urge to nest. After our long wonderful journey away in Europe, I wanted to dust my apartment clean, speckle it with flowers, organize the knickknacks, fluff the pillows, and mentally incubate the idea that I will be a mother. I think and think and think about what this is all going to be like while my baby safely grows miles away. I've decided that this endless thinking is my pregnancy. This is my gestation.I am convincing myself everyday that this is going to happen and it's not going to be taken away from me. This is my pregnancy. I may play no part in sharing my blood and body with this baby, but my mind is pregnant with ideas, fears, strength, chaos, and peace surrounding this baby. No longer are the miles mental or emotional, they are physical now. My baby is now roads and roads away in the Mid-West. I am not the gestational carrier, I am the gestational mind. My thoughts, my desires, my heart are carrying this child to life too.

But my anxiety is still lingering. Mostly because it's time to go public. That's right, we are coming out of the closet. Considering that reproductively I am the same as a gay man, this isn't surprising. But I'm forcing myself to accept that I now have to explain to other people my unique way of "being pregnant." I thought it would be easy once I hit second trimester because my god, it's second trimester! This is unknown territory for me. This is a million times closer than I have ever gotten to the promise land. But I am still afraid to tell people.

As I road my bike for miles and miles from Prague to Vienna, passing lush emerald pastures, rustic hobbit houses, and a history so rich it could clog your arteries, I tried my hardest to believe that all this hard work will pay off. Agonizing up those hills I could barely pedal up, there was nothing sweeter than the curving descent - wind melting away the harsh sun, the pavement smooth beneath me, and downhill speed thrusting me forward with graceful flight. It was all worth the burning legs and semi-hyperventilation. So I want to hold on to that same feeling as I await this baby to fall into my arms after being tortured for 3 years. If I can hold on to this pleasure, I can tell people with pride and genuine happiness about our pregnancy. People follow what you put out there. If I come off weird, apprehensive, ashamed, embarrassed or confused, they won't feel like celebrating. They'll give me that nervous awkwardness I hate, always accompanied by the deer in headlights expression. I want jumping up and down for joy for god sakes. I want to hear, "Oh we are over the moon for you guys!" I want heartfelt congratulations. So why am I afraid I won't get any of that? It's that damn insecurity that infertility cripples you with, telling me "you are not worthy, you aren't the same as the fertiles, you aren't going to be a 'real' mother." Fuck you infertility. So it's another ugly dragon for me to slay. We'll find out tomorrow when we tell our first set of friends. They just had a baby. Will I feel like fake or can I stand up and strongly croon like Frank Sinatra, "I am pregnant, and I did it myyyy waaaaay!"