"And Den?"

I cannot believe I forgot to mention this yesterday!

Tuesday night I was napping in my room between dinner and going out to pick Hubs up from work, when my cell phone rang. The voice on the other end of the line was a hesitant male, trying to be polite and pleasant – but it wasn’t anyone I recognized, and when he introduced himself, I knew he must have had the wrong number. When I tried to tell him so, however, he insisted that he had the right one. He said “they” had given him my number.

I asked him who he was looking for, and he spoke a name I didn’t know; then said something about her being a potential surrogate. This, of course, caught my attention. I asked him who he was dealing with, and he responded that he was working with The Agency. I asked him who, specifically, gave him my number and he informed me it had been the Carrier Coordinator. He reiterated that he was looking for this other girl, who reportedly lived in a town about 14 miles south of me.

I told this man that I would text the Carrier Coordinator and try to get this straightened out. He was obviously nervous, and had an initial matching call scheduled with this girl, so I wanted to make sure they connected. It’s nerve-wracking to go through the very first matching process – the surrogate worries that no one will like her profile, or that she won’t be a good match for anyone, or that potential Intended Parents won’t like her. So the sooner the Coordinator and I got them in touch, the better for both parties.

I texted the Coordinator and she triple-checked, then assured me that she had not given the Potential Intended Father (PIF) my number, but the other woman’s, and sent the correct number to me, as well. I forwarded the number on to PIF and must assume that he made the call immediately, because there was no answer when the Coordinator tried to call him. I texted him one last time to say, “Good luck,” and left it at that.

Out of curiosity, I hopped on Facebook and messaged a friend of mine, to whom Pooka and I refer as “Sexy J.” She and I had discussed surrogacy a while back, and I had given her The Agency’s information. I asked if, by chance, she knew of anybody in her town who had signed up. She responded by informing me that yes indeed, she knew just who I was talking about, and was visiting with that woman’s husband as we typed. Small world!

I wound up texting the woman (who I do not yet know well enough to give her a nickname) to wish her the best, and we wound up chatting for quite a while. We’ve tentatively decided to get together for dinner some evening to chat. It can be lonely sometimes, being the only person in your social circle who carries other people’s kids, so the idea of having a comrade in that way is very exciting!

We still have no idea how PIF got my number, but I wound up with a new friend, so I’ve got no complaints.

Net Gain For Justice

Wow, I’ve been slacking off. Bad Preggosaurus. Alright, now that I’ve been sufficiently chastised, I can proceed with updates. Also, there are links to those things with which you might not be familiar. Just hover over the words and they'll show you which ones are links.

Last Sunday morning (as many of my Facebook followers know) I totaled my 2007 Ford Focus – who I had named Jeannie MacFeegle. Turned left at the bottom of the northbound exit ramp two exits north of me on the interstate, and wound up tangoing with a Volvo Cross Country. Jeannie didn’t stand a chance. Volvos are absolute tanks. The Volvo needed a new passenger-side fender, headlight and front bumper. Jeannie lost everything forward of the radiator. Thankfully the insurance company checked everything out and turned over a check very quickly.

Last Monday I had another ultrasound, at Mum’s request, to ease her mind. Even though it wasn’t medically necessary, My Favorite Nurse managed to finagle it anyway. Between her and the Big Hospital’s billing department, we were able to make sure my insurance never even saw the charges, so everybody was happy, and of course Nugget is doing beautifully. Heartbeat was a solid 159, which is still well within normal for its gestational age.

Tuesday morning, I went out with “Auntie Badass” (my mother’s older sister) to go car shopping. I had done a bunch of research Monday after work and made some phone calls. Despite having only had auto credit with Ford, I started off at the local Toyota dealership. The salesman was solicitous without being pretentious or pushy, and didn’t ask me or Auntie where our husbands were, which scored big points with both of us. I test-drove an automatic transmission 2014 Scion XB (Did you know that Scion is just a badge of Toyota? Me either!). It was a good little beast, and was a lot of fun to drive, but Hubs and I had discussed our “must haves” for a new car, and manual transmission was a big one for me. The XB had four doors, which was a must, and storage space for things like cell phones and sun glasses up front, which was also a must. It also had plenty of space in the cargo area for a dog, which we will eventually acquire; and ample leg room in the back seat for the days when we transport Hubs’ coworker, the Gentle Giant. who is easily 6’5”.

After test driving the Scion, Auntie and I went down the hill to the Ford dealership. Up till that point, I had been emailing with the digital sales manager there, who had said to me more than once: “I won’t miss your business for price.” But I had bought Jeannie there, so I decided to go speak to the salesman I’ve known for years. He and another salesman both blew me off, asking me to come back the next day with an appointment. Well, Tuesday was Town Meeting Day, and I had the day off, so I wanted to get something rolling that day. They tried to push me back as far as Saturday. Now, Auntie had loaned me her car beginning Sunday night, and was generous enough to let me use it for up to two weeks. I don’t like taking advantage of people, so I wanted to be able to give her car back as soon as possible.

Needless to say: After the blow-off, once I got outside, I looked to Auntie and grumbled, “Screw this noise. Let’s go buy a Scion.” So we drove back up the hill and I told the salesman that if he could find me a 2014 Scion XB with a manual transmission, I’d buy it. He had one located before I left that day.

Once I did leave and dropped Auntie back at home, I scrambled back into town and met up with Mum at my local créperie. Truth be told, it’s one of my favorite restaurants, and I was pleased that Mum was impressed. She drove us up to the Big Hospital where I geeked out with the receptionist over Dr. Who and Torchwood, and got scathing glares from another receptionist for not being overly excited about Sherlock.

Dr. Mischief was our doctor-of-the-day, and he assured us both that I am once again, a low-risk pregnancy. I got the usual initial pelvic exam, along with blood pressure, heart and lungs checks, and the requisite question-and-answer session between Mum and Doctor. I think she felt confident by the end of the visit. At least, I hope so.

Friday, I picked up my new silver 2014 Scion XB, 5-door, 5-speed. Hubs and I have named her Gytha, and we love her. Hubs has been generous enough to let me do all the driving, because I’ve so missed having a stick-shift! He’s a good Hubs. I think I’ll keep him. The only complaint I’ve had about Gytha is small. We had a huge snowstorm yesterday, and dealership windshield wipers are absolute rubbish. I bought a new set yesterday, and I no longer have any complaints. She’s a bear in the snow, shifts like a dream and has more bells and whistles than I could have thought to ask for! I no longer have to talk on my cell phone by holding my phone – she came with Bluetooth built into her stereo system! So not only can I talk on my phone over the stereo, but Hubs and Pooka and I all have our phones programmed into the stereo so that we can touch the stereo screen and play our music without cables or USB plug-ins.

Monday this week, half of my agency started work in our new building in the Granite City. It’s a little farther away from my house, but by taking a different route, the amount of time my commute takes is no more than it was when I worked 3 miles closer. Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in almost ten years: I HAVE A WINDOW! This alone makes the whole move worth it for me. Everyone else can complain all they like about the building, the move, the location, whatever. I’m happy. I can turn my head and see outdoors.

All in all, I’m calling the last two weeks’ events (as Hubs puts it), “a net gain for justice.”