Intending to be parents x2
I didn't write about what it was like to be an Intended Mother last time; I think I was afraid of jinxing it.
But this time I want to write about how it feels to have your baby being grown by someone who isn't you, because it is a very unique experience. I don't know when/if I'll publish this as I want to be free to write how I'm feeling, but I definitely don't want Sara to feel like she isn't doing a good enough job of growing and taking care of our baby! She's doing FANTASTIC!
I should start out by saying this is different for everyone, but there seem to be some commonalities for all intended mothers going through this process.
You have NO CONTROL. You might think you do, but you don't. It doesn't matter what your agreement states; your surrogate is in the driver's seat - they have your baby and they can do whatever they want. In our province, Sara and her husband are legally the baby's parents, even. Some Intended parents seem to respond to this by grasping for anything they can even somewhat influence: they only want the surrogate to eat organic food. Or they don't want her to travel. Or exercise. Or eat pickles....I don't know. I've seen some Intended Mothers, especially, go CA-RAZY over what the surro does and does not do while pregnant. I go the other route. I stay out of it. I just have to trust Sara (and also Tara) completely. This release of all control requires more mental discipline than I often realize. I worry all the time: Is Sara ok? Getting enough sleep? Taking care of herself (and therefore the babe)? Going to be able to handle labour? Will she need bedrest at the end? But I keep this all (or the VAST majority of it) to myself. I don't even say it to Jake. I just squash it down into the numb zone.
Being numb is required. There is a certain element of numbness that is very helpful with this lack of control. You just can't let your brain go to all the places it wants to go to when your unborn child is in another woman's uterus. I can't feel it kick, I don't have a belly from anything other than ice cream. I am going on blind faith (and dr results and belly photos Sara sends) that my baby actually IS coming. It is a straaaange, disconnected feeling. So I go numb. I just don't think about it. But, simultaneously, I'm ALWAYS thinking about it. How do I describe this? It's like levels of consciousness maybe? The upper level that I'm most aware of, where life is always going on - what load of laundry needs to be done, what is for supper, how much marking do I have to do...the baby and surrogacy doesn't enter in there much. I can't let it. But underneath that, where your undercurrent of thoughts lives like a flowing river humming along - that is ALL BABY.
I can't imagine how stressful this would be if you had a surrogate who played games or was untrustworthy or wasn't a good person. I CANNOT IMAGINE. Even with Sara and Tara, who are exceptional humans I am comfortable trusting my baby to, my interior stress is at a consistently elevated level. And there is nothing I can do about it.
When we were waiting for Rudi to be born, we had out of town guests and our original intention was to do lots of fun things with them while waiting for the call. But I couldn't. I was paralyzed. I didn't want to leave the city, I didn't want to be further than 10 minutes away from the hospital at all times. Our visitor remarked that if she had been like that during the end of her pregnancies, she could never have gone anywhere. I said 'Well, your baby was inside you. No matter where you went into labour or gave birth, you were already WITH your baby'.
I am not with my baby. And it is excruciating. An excruciating miracle that my baby is growing, but inside someone else. Someone who is not me.
A few weeks ago Sara's family suffered a loss and she and Andrew made a 3 day trip to BC. She, being so thoughtful and kind and considerate of the fact that she is a vessel for our child right now, asked if she could fly to BC before they booked the tickets, and of course we said yes. If it had been me going to a funeral at 17 weeks pregnant, there would have been no question. But I thought about them the whole time. Sara doesn't live close by regardless, but having her and babe in BC felt a bit odd. MY BABY WAS IN BC. WITHOUT ME.
It's repetitive, but this is the whole thing: I want my baby. I want to be with it, to feel it move against me, to feel the weight of its body on my body. But we have 20 weeks to wait yet.
Also, writing this post has made the feeling of excruciating wanting and waiting worse. I'm thinking about it more, and it does hurt. Even though Sara is quite honestly an angel for us and is doing this amazing thing of growing our human....even though I am SO GRATEFUL, it also hurts. It hurts that someone else is growing my baby. It hurts that my baby isn't here, with me. I ache for that baby.
Waiting is torture. A numb, lack-of-control, submerged consciousness form of torture. I want my baby. But I have to wait. 20 weeks down, about 20 to go.
You know that saying, from Finding Nemo? Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming....
It's very apt in this case.
Since starting this draft and re-reading and editing, the stress has broken through my numbness barrier a few times, and I'll be honest, I have cried about it. The idea of how the birth will go is stressful, the paperwork afterwards to make the baby legally ours is expensive and stressful, and although time is always rolling forward, we still have a long ways to go before the baby is in our arms and our house.
Just going to keep taking it one day at a time, and counting the weeks as they roll on.
But this time I want to write about how it feels to have your baby being grown by someone who isn't you, because it is a very unique experience. I don't know when/if I'll publish this as I want to be free to write how I'm feeling, but I definitely don't want Sara to feel like she isn't doing a good enough job of growing and taking care of our baby! She's doing FANTASTIC!
I should start out by saying this is different for everyone, but there seem to be some commonalities for all intended mothers going through this process.
You have NO CONTROL. You might think you do, but you don't. It doesn't matter what your agreement states; your surrogate is in the driver's seat - they have your baby and they can do whatever they want. In our province, Sara and her husband are legally the baby's parents, even. Some Intended parents seem to respond to this by grasping for anything they can even somewhat influence: they only want the surrogate to eat organic food. Or they don't want her to travel. Or exercise. Or eat pickles....I don't know. I've seen some Intended Mothers, especially, go CA-RAZY over what the surro does and does not do while pregnant. I go the other route. I stay out of it. I just have to trust Sara (and also Tara) completely. This release of all control requires more mental discipline than I often realize. I worry all the time: Is Sara ok? Getting enough sleep? Taking care of herself (and therefore the babe)? Going to be able to handle labour? Will she need bedrest at the end? But I keep this all (or the VAST majority of it) to myself. I don't even say it to Jake. I just squash it down into the numb zone.
Being numb is required. There is a certain element of numbness that is very helpful with this lack of control. You just can't let your brain go to all the places it wants to go to when your unborn child is in another woman's uterus. I can't feel it kick, I don't have a belly from anything other than ice cream. I am going on blind faith (and dr results and belly photos Sara sends) that my baby actually IS coming. It is a straaaange, disconnected feeling. So I go numb. I just don't think about it. But, simultaneously, I'm ALWAYS thinking about it. How do I describe this? It's like levels of consciousness maybe? The upper level that I'm most aware of, where life is always going on - what load of laundry needs to be done, what is for supper, how much marking do I have to do...the baby and surrogacy doesn't enter in there much. I can't let it. But underneath that, where your undercurrent of thoughts lives like a flowing river humming along - that is ALL BABY.
I can't imagine how stressful this would be if you had a surrogate who played games or was untrustworthy or wasn't a good person. I CANNOT IMAGINE. Even with Sara and Tara, who are exceptional humans I am comfortable trusting my baby to, my interior stress is at a consistently elevated level. And there is nothing I can do about it.
When we were waiting for Rudi to be born, we had out of town guests and our original intention was to do lots of fun things with them while waiting for the call. But I couldn't. I was paralyzed. I didn't want to leave the city, I didn't want to be further than 10 minutes away from the hospital at all times. Our visitor remarked that if she had been like that during the end of her pregnancies, she could never have gone anywhere. I said 'Well, your baby was inside you. No matter where you went into labour or gave birth, you were already WITH your baby'.
I am not with my baby. And it is excruciating. An excruciating miracle that my baby is growing, but inside someone else. Someone who is not me.
A few weeks ago Sara's family suffered a loss and she and Andrew made a 3 day trip to BC. She, being so thoughtful and kind and considerate of the fact that she is a vessel for our child right now, asked if she could fly to BC before they booked the tickets, and of course we said yes. If it had been me going to a funeral at 17 weeks pregnant, there would have been no question. But I thought about them the whole time. Sara doesn't live close by regardless, but having her and babe in BC felt a bit odd. MY BABY WAS IN BC. WITHOUT ME.
It's repetitive, but this is the whole thing: I want my baby. I want to be with it, to feel it move against me, to feel the weight of its body on my body. But we have 20 weeks to wait yet.
Also, writing this post has made the feeling of excruciating wanting and waiting worse. I'm thinking about it more, and it does hurt. Even though Sara is quite honestly an angel for us and is doing this amazing thing of growing our human....even though I am SO GRATEFUL, it also hurts. It hurts that someone else is growing my baby. It hurts that my baby isn't here, with me. I ache for that baby.
Waiting is torture. A numb, lack-of-control, submerged consciousness form of torture. I want my baby. But I have to wait. 20 weeks down, about 20 to go.
You know that saying, from Finding Nemo? Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming....
It's very apt in this case.
Since starting this draft and re-reading and editing, the stress has broken through my numbness barrier a few times, and I'll be honest, I have cried about it. The idea of how the birth will go is stressful, the paperwork afterwards to make the baby legally ours is expensive and stressful, and although time is always rolling forward, we still have a long ways to go before the baby is in our arms and our house.
Just going to keep taking it one day at a time, and counting the weeks as they roll on.
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