Schlemiel! Schlemazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!

(Yes, I am indeed aware of what the Yiddish words in the title mean. However, I am making a pop culture reference from the 1970's, so their definitions aren't intended to apply to this post.)

Got a copy of my previous surrogacy contract from The Agency this morning, so I could look it over and let them know what I wanted to change, money-wise, before it goes to “my” lawyer for a higher level of scrutiny. Personally, I’m confident that my thinkmeats are functional enough to be able to decide for myself what the contract should look like, as I’ve read it through carefully on two separate occasions. But The Agency wants my proverbial buns covered, so it’s going to a lawyer up in the Queen City once The Agency and my new Intended Parents (IPs) have put it together to their satisfaction. Anyway, I emailed the Coordinator back to ask a few questions and make sure things tied out properly.

Yesterday, during our chat with our new IPs (*SQUEE!* I love the sound of that already!), we learned that their previous experience with a carrier had not gone the way they had hoped. It’s not my place to share specific details, but suffice it to say none of it worked out. In the end it boils down to: No wonder the Coordinator emailed me. I don’t mean to sound conceited, but clearly Mum and Dad need someone stable; someone who’s going to stick it out no matter what. And I am that. I am stubborn if absolutely nothing else. I will. Not Quit, until I am pregnant and have confirmation that the baby is healthy and the pregnancy is normal.

It was interesting to learn that Mum and Dad were as nervous about me accepting or rejecting them as I was about them accepting or rejecting me. Granted, it helps a lot that apparently The Agency thinks highly of me, but there’s always a sort of natural fear of rejection. As it turns out, The Agency thinks highly enough of me that they emailed me last week to ask if they could give my email address to a new surrogate who wanted to talk to an “experienced” one. Hee hee. Even that sounds odd to me. I’ve had two babies in as many years, and that makes me experienced. I wonder if it’s got something to do with my obsessive need to research the bejesus out of anything I plan to do, before I do it. Hmm…

Anyway, back on topic: I will admit I was a little hesitant about working with a straight couple at first. Not because I have anything against straight people, but because I wasn’t sure how another woman would react to me carrying her child for her. I mean, it can’t be easy to watch someone else do something you desperately want to do for yourself, even if she’s doing it for you. So I asked Mum on the phone on Saturday about that. Well, round-aboutly, anyway. Her response was honest, which I appreciate, and optimistic. She confided that she did find it difficult to discover that she can’t carry a baby, but she’s excited to share in the process anyway. Men don’t understand what it’s like, so it’s not quite the same talking to them. With a gestational carrier, she has the chance to talk to someone who really does get it, and can share in her enthusiasm. That pretty much took care of any reticence I had.

Besides, like I said before: We have a LOT in common. I’m not the only one who does her research (I saw that you checked out my LinkedIn profile, Mum!). We’re both serious list-makers and neatniks. We both love big projects, and we’re both a couple of Irish spitfires. Our hubses tend to sit back when we get wound up and wait patiently for the temperamental flare-up to die out before bothering to approach again. We’ll be doing the Wizard-of-Oz skip and singing the theme song to “Laverne and Shirley” in no time.

Let's Do This Like Brutus!

Getting up at 1:00 in the morning is harder than staying up until 1:00 in the morning. We had to, though, to get to the airport in time to pick Pooka up on her return from California. Thankfully, Hubs is very good at staying up late, so that's what he did. He stayed up and let me sleep, then drove down to the airport. We listened to standup comedy the whole way. Good times.

Pooka's flight arrived ten minutes early, much to my delight, and I got good hugs once she got off the plane. Little monkey had to borrow an additional carry-on bag from my mother just to fit all of her loot. We got her baggage in a lot less time than I'm used to. The airport up in the Queen City is deathly slow by comparison. 

From the airport, we shuffled off to a nearby hotel for breakfast at their little restaurant with the previously mentioned potential Intended Parents. Food was good, but truth be told, the company was the best part. Turns out Mum and I have a lot in common, and we operate very similarly. Dad and Hubs seem to share some personality traits too.

We talked for the better part of three hours, about nearly everything under the sun. Well, not really, but we covered all the important stuff and then some. There was a lot of laughing. Hubs, Pooka and I were very imoressed. Mum and Dad are very easy to get along with and very likeable. Needless to say, by the end of our visit we agreed to have The Agency draw up a contract.

So, come December/January if all goes well, I should be on a new adventure with two parents instead of just one.

First Impressions

Well, Mum and I got to talk on the phone this morning and I must say she sounds like a thoughtful, easygoing kind of lady. So far I think she's marvelous. Her phone voice comes across as bubbly and cheerful but not so perky as to be obnoxious. Her questions were organized, which always impresses me, but she let the conversation sort of go wherever it went. She's highly complimentary and laughs easily, which once again I like very much. She also expressed that communication via email and text is easiest for her, which works beautifully for me. I'm the same way. It's not that I don't like to talk on the phone, it's just that email and text is so much less intrusive on other people's space.

Mum asked me about our little family, and about myself. I told her we're a little cluster of nerds - that Hubs and I met on a role-playing website (not a kinky one, but like Dungeons and Dragons. Get your minds out of the gutter) and didn't actually mean to fall in love with one another initially. That Miss Pooka is nearly thirteen; that we have a feline companion who named himself CatButt; and that we're a bunch of homebodies. We talked a little about our jobs: How Hubs is a licensed high school English teacher, but that teaching gigs are slim on the ground, so he's busting his butt in the kitchen at a local restaurant to help make ends meet. How much time I took off of my job after I had Tempest. That kind of thing.

We also talked about how much involvement she might like to have in the pregnancy. Mum and I both agreed that the more involved she is, the better. And Dad too, of course, but I suspect that the menfolk in this arrangement will be supporting cast rather than taking up starring roles. I know Hubs will, at the very least. I explained to her that I've got no problems being touched, and that I'd prefer that she and Dad make themselves as well known to their munchkin in-utero as possible.

We exchanged cell phone numbers and email addresses, and I've given her the link to this blog, so now I have to be super careful of what I say. Ha! I grew up in a family where the dynamic was: If you're not picked on, you're not well liked. I therefore submit that I shall remain irreverent here and anywhere I can get away with it.

Anyway, Mum and I have been texting off and on since our phone conversation. We're meeting up for breakfast down in her area (which is not actually near her Clinic, as I had suspected, but IS near the airport where we're picking Pooka up from her two-week vacation out in California with my Mom and StepDad, Lord and Lady Bear, Stepsister Moop and her Hubs and Monkey) tomorrow morning, right near the airport. Convenience for the win!

Matchsticks, Round 2!

I got the new potential Intended Parents’ profile today! What? It’s not like I’ve been waiting on pins and needles, bouncing in my chair or anything… Totally haven’t been. Hush, you.

I really like the sound of this couple. No joke. I do. Especially Mum. The parents and the carrier are all asked: “What is your philosophy in life?” Her answer was one simple word: “Laugh.” If nothing else had won me over in this stage of the matching process, that alone would have done it. Laugh. It’s one of the biggest, and probably my favorite part of my relationship with Hubs. Our wedding was all about it. Much of the way we interact with Pooka is about laughter. Seriously, that was the best answer Mum could have given. Dad’s answer was excellent, too: “Stop and smell the roses as often as possible.” I interpret this to mean, “Choose to focus on the positive.” Perhaps I’ll ask if that’s what he meant when we talk on the phone.

The Coordinator and I emailed back and forth a little bit this morning and I expect I should hear back from her within the next couple days to arrange “the phone call.” If we still like each other at the end of the phone call, we’ll schedule an in-person meeting. I’m not sure what Mum and Dad’s expectations are on that score – if they’ll want to meet and get things moving right away so that once I’ve got the green-light from their fertility specialist, we can do a transfer, or what.

That’d be another new adventure. It looks like Mum & Dad started out with the same fertility clinic I visited for Wiggle Worm and Tempest, but that they switched to another one which I presume is closer to home for them. This might mean all new psych screenings as well as the standard physiological tests. Or their clinic might accept our evaluation results from the previous clinic, given that we’ve done two surrogacies at this point. I’m not that bothered either way. I know how the process works, and I’m still mentally and emotionally fine with handing over a baby that isn’t mine. The only “concern” anybody might raise is that not everyone’s personalities are compatible. But you know what? The Coordinator is VERY good at her job, and I’m pretty easy to get along with.

I think that’s pretty much all I have for speculation for today, but I promise to post more for all you rabid readers, once I have more to share. In the meantime, th-th-th-That’s all, Folks!

Back In The Saddle! Well, Stirrups Anyway...

Well folks: Tempest is four weeks old today and already my name is back in the surrogacy pot! I emailed the most lovely, most helpful carrier coordinator at The Agency and let her know I’d be available for another transfer probably around December-ish. She sent me my most recent profile for updating, and so, being me and preferring to get everything done sooner rather than later, I revised it to the best of my ability. There are a couple of doctor’s appointments I need to schedule – a physical and a pap exam – and of course I need to have a couple normal menses so that I can eventually report my cycle to a fertility specialist.

Anyway before I had even finished updating my profile, the aforementioned marvelous coordinator emailed me to let me know that she might have a straight couple who’d be a good match, and who’d probably be willing to wait for me to be ready in December. “HOLY CARP,” thinks me! Seriously folks, I don’t think there could BE a bigger ego boost than that. As far as I've been told, the couple has seen my profile now and likes it, so the coordinator is just waiting to talk to them about a few things this week, and we’ll see if I like their profile.

I honestly am really excited about getting back into the matching process. Don’t get me wrong: I.F. is wonderful and I’m so happy I got to meet him and be a small part of his life. His babies are beautiful and I wish all three of them only the best, always. But it’s time for someone else to have a turn. It sounds like the couple who’s got my profile right now are a little farther away than I.F. was and where The Fertility Clinic we used for Wiggle Worm and Tempest is, but I've been through the couple’s general vicinity a number of times, so the drive is familiar.

So yay! I’ll be back at it in no time! Whee!

Holding

Tempest is nearing two weeks old, and I’m back to work. I’ll be honest: The last two weeks have been a ridiculously dull adventure. No, seriously. I already mentioned that I passed out an hour or so after giving birth to the munchkin, but that wasn't the last of it. After I got home, lightheadedness and fuzzy hearing became a sort of regular thing. Walking to the bathroom wiped me out and sometimes made me have to sit down. Washing dishes required numerous breaks. Even showering took it out of me.

On the 4^th, I decided to get out of the house and hit the grocery store for some necessities since Hubs was at work and obviously couldn't do it for me. Pooka and I shuffled slowly through the small store and she did most of the work, tossing our few purchases into the cart for me while I leaned heavily on it. I couldn't figure out why people were looking at me funny, or why Pooka was being so solicitous. Once we got most of the way through the checkout line, I figured out why. I had been feeling pretty weak and wobbly, but I figured it had to do with having been in bed or sitting on the couch for more than a week. Nope. I nearly passed out in the checkout line. I figured out what was going on in time for me to hand Pooka my debit card and go settle on a bench at the front of the store with my head between my knees.

My little girl, I am proud to say, handled the remainder of the transaction, loaded the car and helped me to it without batting an eyelash or even taking the time to look concerned. She’s good in a crisis, is Pooka. She grabbed me a soda (I hadn't eaten that day yet, either. Just hadn't been hungry) to boost my blood sugars and made sure I was alert, responsive and in proper shape to drive the half mile home before we went anywhere.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it turns out that I was low on iron. Hubs picked up some iron tablets for me that evening and I have gotten progressively stronger since. No more fainting episodes; no more lightheadedness.

In other news: Husband and I have talked and while our original plan was to start trying for our own offspring in December/January, certain circumstances have led us to decide to do one more surrogacy before we procreate. I’m sure I’ll get plenty of flak from hopeful grandparents for it, but it’s just not a great idea right now. First and foremost, I've applied for a new job. It would be better, if I get it, not to have to take three months off for maternity leave within the first year.