mindless woman, mindless ramblings

I'm quite sure that the majority, if not all of the people who manage to stumble across this collection of utternaces will be people involved in surrogacy to some extent, so in effort to keep what I know will turn out to be a long entry a tad bit shorter, I'll skip the whole "what is surrogacy" speech. For the readers of this journal, I'm sure it would be redundant information.

Also, the situations discussed in this particular entry have a very deep history of things that I've already written in detail about. If you do not know about my first surrogate journey with Sarah (FaithoftheHeart on SMO), you should read Week 5, Parts 1-7 of my pregnancy journal found here: http://pregnancyandbaby.com/read/Pregnancy_Diaries/Kymberli/Kymberli_-_2005/index.htm. There is a lot to read there, so don't say I didn't warn you.

People in the surrogacy community who've known me for a while know the basic details of my previous surrogacy experience. In 2004, I was matched to a fabulous pair of intended parents. My former intended mother and I became instant friends. We were matched within three days and knew from the very start that what we had found was something more than the standard surrogate mother/intended mother relationship.

Sadly, our journey was not successful in the fact that it did not result in the delivery of a baby. We had one just one, unsuccesful transfer. The surrogacy aspect of our relationship ended with difficulty. But unlike many surrogacy "break-ups," what endured was the most important thing- our friendship.  

While we were matched and cycling, whenever we talked about what we knew would be our future success, we always referred to "the babies" and never just "the baby." Even Frank, who is not the most "mystical" of people, had a dream that I got pregnant with twin girls for Sarah and Paul. We all just had the feeling that twin girls were in our future.   

In the couple of weeks prior to our transfer, it seemed that there were rainbows everywhere. In the space of a few days, my best friend Becky, her mother, Sarah, and I had all seen rainbows. How often does any one person see a rainbow? Yet here we were on the brink of possibly creating life, being shown contant reminders of God's promise to the world that life would go on.

On the day of our transfer, the weather in Atlanta was appropriate for rainbows: hot and sunny, with just enough airy clouds to give an indication that light summer showers would soon come. Sarah and I looked for rainbows on the way to and from the transfer but didn't see any. A couple of hours later I called Becky to tell her about the transfer, and almost not surprisingly, she had seen a rainbow around the same time of the transfer. It just felt too perfect.

At a mere 3dp3dt, I got the first round of positive pregnancy tests. Sarah and Paul were elated, but were also understandably reserved. Two days later, the pregnancy tests were negative again and we were all crushed. I knew that it was still early, so I was cautiously hopeful when again, I got a positive pregnancy test at 6dp3dt. Crushed again: 7 days past transfer resulted in another negative. I was just sick with fear that the transfer wasn't going to work at all and the roller coaster of the first seven days past transfer began to defeat me, but I managed to remain hopeful because it was still early.

On the next afternoon, I saw a double rainbow hovering over the lake behind my house. I instantly grabbed my camera, took pictures of it, and sent them to Sarah. We felt somewhat comforted, and viewed the rainbow a sign from God reminding us that everything was in His hands and that we would be blessed. I kept the image of two blonde baby girls firmly implanted in my mind and prayed that it would help the actual implantation of a baby or two.  

Ultimately, the transfer failed and Sarah and I were both at a loss, feeling that all of our "signs" were for naught. Three months later, our journey together as GS and IM ended, and it ended by my decision. It was probably the most difficult thing that I've ever had to do and I was not happy with myself, though I did know that at the time, it was the right decision for me. The "break-up" weekend was hard, but by the end of it, we had resolved to maintain the friendship that we had grown to depend on.

There were still raw emotions there, and we talked about some, but not all of them, both of us knowing that over time, those conversations would naturally happen. A couple of months later, Sarah rematched and was headed for a March transfer. It did not escape our attention that had our transfer worked, I would have been due around the time of Sarah's upcoming transfer. A couple of weeks after Sarah matched, I became pregnant with my fourth child. This was not a surprise pregnancy, but when it happened, Sarah, quite understandably, was distraught. Having gone through my own bout with infertility, I could somewhat relate to how she was feeling.

Sarah needed space, which I gave to her so that she could focus on developing her new surrogacy relationship and on the transfer, which had the lucky timing of falling on St. Patrick's Day. In the week prior to transfer and through the two-week wait, Sarah did keep me updated on how things were progressing. It was the first contact we had had in two months. I prayed with all my might that the transfer would work – and it did. After a nerve-wracking low-average beta, subsequent betas proved that Sarah's surrogate was safely pregnant. Sarah and I were overjoyed, and from the day of the beta, we were able to pick up our relationship where we left off prior to confirmation of my pregnancy.

Through our pregnancies, it became apparent that we really depended on our relationship with each other to get through some trying times. We spent nearly all day everyday online chatting together, doing many of the fun "we're pregnant" things we had once hoped to do, such as browsing through baby name lists, looking through nursery accessories, and just gabbing about pregnancy in general.  

Around the 4th of July, Sarah's surrogate and husband came to visit Sarah. They were going to have a 4-D ultrasound that would reveal the gender of Sarah and Paul's baby. Along with another of our surrogate friends and her husband, we decided to meet halfway in Macon for lunch. Sarah and I were very excited to see each other again, both of us knowing that it would be a highly emotional visit. It was our first time seeing each other in person since the transfer. For the most part we were able to keep outward displays of our feelings in check.

We all had great time at lunch, and you should have seen some of the looks we got from the diners who overheard our not-so-quiet discussions on breastfeeding, morning sickness, and the overall magic of surrogacy. When it was time to leave, everyone hugged their goodbyes, and through teared eyes, Sarah and I non-verbally communicated all the things we wanted to say but just couldn't given the time and place. She promised to call as soon as she could after learning Little Tink's gender. Sarah and I seemed to be the only two people who thought that she was having a girl.

On the way home, I did cry a bit, and every tear stemmed from shades of a myriad of emotions: joy, sadness, hope, confusion; but most of all, I just felt a happy sort of relief. Relief that despite everything, Sarah and I were truly able to maintain this friendship that we had built and also relief from witnessing actual proof that Sarah's dreams were actually in the process of coming true, and that in some way I was still able to participate in that.

I spent the rest of the way home chattering to Frank about the lunch and my excitement over the ultrasound that was probably happening even as I spoke. We headed through a bit of rain, and when I glanced out to examine the cloud cover, I was awestruck when I looked up and saw the most beautiful, vibrant, double rainbow that I had ever seen. It looked as if it was actually a solid, multicolored crescent that was nearly level with the horizon and was directly in front of me. In that moment, I just knew without a doubt that Sarah's baby was a girl, and whatever fleeting moments of sadness I felt were washed away, at least for the moment.

We got home about 20 minutes later, and nearly as soon as I walked in the door, the phone rang. I knew it was Sarah. I said a quick prayer then answered the phone. "It's a GIRRRRLLL!!!" Sarah exclaimed. Before I knew what I was doing, I was screaming, laughing, thanking God, and bouncing all over the living room. Well, I bounced as much as pregnant belly would let me. In that moment, we finally understood the true meaning of Frank's dream and of all of our rainbows:

We were both blessed with baby girls.

And on September 30, 2005, Sarah was with me as Frank and I welcomed our daughter, Kaelyn, into the world.

Two months to the day later on November 30, Sarah's baby girl Gabriella (Ella) arrived, and I thanked God that Sarah's dreams had finally come true. I could hardly contain my excitement when Sarah called me at work to give me all of the wonderful delivery details.

One of Kaelyn's three middle names (yes, that's right, there are three of them) is "Imani," which in Swahili means Faith. Ella's middle name is Faith. Without the tenacity and faith of their mothers, neither of our little girls would have ever been here. 

Sarah and I were finally able to get our girls, who we call the "Rainbow Babies" together in March.

And now, Sarah is supporting me through the realization of my surrogacy dreams with new IPs and a mid-July transfer to look forward to. I could not, and would not be able to do this if it was not for the endurace of the bond that we share that I find diffcult, even in all of my wordiness, to verbally define.

I have not yet completed a surrogacy journey, but I don't think that it takes actually delivering to count a surrogacy as being a "closed" journey, per se. I think that people value their experiences with IPs or surrogates in different lights depending on the situation. I credit my last experience as a GS journey, even though it didn't result in my pregnancy and delivery of Sarah's child. The experience didn't end the way either Sarah or I had envisioned it, but the journey still meant the world to me. We started in one place, traveled a ways down the road, got a result we didn't want, and still moved forward, only on a path that wasn't typical of what we normally think of as a surrogate journey. That journey had substance to me, and at least to me it feels right to list it as my first completed surrogacy experience.

The message that I hope to deliver to surrogates and IP's is this: if the surrogacy is built on a friendship first and that friendship is kept as the first priority, there are no obstacles too great to be overcome. The surrogacy relationship may not end the way you hoped and dreamed it would, but if the friendship itself always comes first, it can continue to grow and you'll both come out stronger on the other side.

I think that our "rainbows" are proof enough of that.