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.