Rasta Less Traveled

700 Diapers

2012-02-25T17:29:00.000-05:00

I've spent 4 years thinking I will never have children.

I've spent 3 weeks thinking I might actually have children.

I've spent 2 days thinking I am going to have children.

I spent 1 minute making my first baby purchase.

700 diapers.

Note that there was no rhyme or reason to this purchase. It was simply a just-get--it-over-with-and-prove-to-yourself-that-the-world-will-not-come-to-an-end-so-you-can-get-on-with-buying-the-fun-stuff purchase.

And seeing as I am never one to pass up a good deal... I bought 700.

So What Have You Done?

2012-02-18T07:03:00.002-05:00

Suddenly, this question has secured a top spot on my Most FAQ List.

And as many are simply asking because they don't know what the heck to respond with when I mention that: (1) a surrogate, (2) in India, (3) is carrying our twins, they tend not to notice my total deer-in-headlights expression, and instead proceed with a rapid-fire subset of questions including decorated the nursery? found childcare? selected a pediatrician? picked out names?

To which I usually reply with some lame-o, "Um, yeah, all of the above. Maybe one or two more things to do, but, you know, yeah, I'd say we've definitely made a significant dent in the List."

Which, frankly, is nothing but a big fat freakin' lie!

Dent in the List? Where the heck do I come up with this stuff? I don't even have a "List." And the only thing I've made a dent in lately is a pint of Cherry Garcia.

That's right. Me, a spoon, and a tub of ice cream, as I enviously pour over my fellow bloggers "Lists" and marvel at their bravery for having already ordered their complete layette AND selected their minivan color.

Add to the fact that Duane, while babysitting my niece the other night, sent me the below picture with the message "Help! I don't know how to watch girls!" and I am beginning to think that we are falling woefully behind on all this baby preparation stuff.

Which is why I decided that today, it was finally time to take my first step in "that" direction.

And while I'm at it, why not start with the really hard stuff first.

Which is exactly what I did. I picked up the phone, dialed my hairdresser, and managed to secure a pre baby pick-up highlight and haircut appointment with less than two months advance notice.

Not impressed? You've clearly never tried to get in with my hairdresser.

Now, onto all the easy stuff...

I'M the Mom!

2012-02-04T13:32:00.000-05:00

...so why the heck don't I feel like it?

It never fails.

And I mean never.

Less than 48 hours after I go out on a limb and make a "partial"baby announcement at work, I receive a 5:45 a.m. email. From my clinic.

Now I should explain that communications from our clinic come in 3 forms:

1. The email with the subject line "USG Report." This is a wonderful email. It means all is well, pictures of the babies are enclosed and that there are no significant problems to note.

2. The email with the subject line "Mxxxx- admission." This one means your surrogate is in the hospital. It makes your heart stop. After which you throw up. After which you curse yourself for not checking your email earlier-- seriously, when did I decide that it was ok to stop the 3 a.m. message checks?

3. The phone call. Nobody wants the phone call. Ever.

So I wake up Friday to an email of the second variety. Crap.

Though there are more, the only words I can see are "abscess" "surgical procedure" and "anesthetics."

I frantically email the clinic for more information. I call my parents house. (Note, you are never too old to call your parents at any time of day/night.) My dad, who cannot understand my hysterics and who is still half-asleep answers and tells me I have the wrong number. The hysterics go up a notch. I yell that I need to talk to my mom which causes sudden recognition of the hysterical voice-- likely a teenage years flashback. I eventually get in touch with said mom who also happens to be one very knowledgeable nurse.

I realize that I don't even know what I should be asking my clinic. I don't know the first thing about anesthesia, I don't know the first thing about pregnancy and I haven't a clue whether the former is safe during the latter.

My first reaction is to google but the minute I see "could cause preterm labor" I decide it is simply better to just sit at my kitchen table and sob until I hear back from my clinic.

The clinic emails and I am told that "local" anesthesia was used-- note that this variety is safe during pregnancy-- and that our surrogate would be discharged the following day.

Good. Babies are safe. This should make me feel better, right?

Wrong. Instead I feel rotten. Feelings of anger and resentment, that I believe have been brewing over the past two weeks as I attempt to make the transition from "is this really happening" to "I think this might actually be happening" surface and I am just downright pissed.

I want to be there. I want to make decisions about whether my babies will be exposed to any type of anesthesia. I want to protect them. I WANT TO BE THE MOM! And I am so frustrated... because I sure as heck don't feel like one now...

Surrogacy is difficult on so many levels, but the utter lack of control is inarguably the hardest part. I am ready for May and for the arrival of these babies. I am ready to hold them and to have them by MY side. I am ready for the stress and the anxiety and the helplessness that accompany having a baby 7,000 miles away to slowly fade away.

Because I am truly ready, after all that we have been through...to finally feel like THE MOM!

A BIG Day

2012-02-01T21:30:00.002-05:00

Literally.

I prepped last night starting with 3 glasses of wine, followed by no sleep, followed by a severe case of hives, followed by a dose of steroids (which made it impossible to sleep), followed by a dose of Benadryl (which made it impossible to wake up), followed by 3 cups of coffee, 4 outfit changes and 1 short cry.

Today was the date of our 22 week scan.

Today was also the date I set for telling my boss about our extra-curricular activities.

Approximately 15 minutes prior to leaving for work we got "the email." I did the quick one eye scan and saw that everything looked fine. I did the thorough enlarge 500% view and saw that again, everything looked fine. I read each word of the report and concluded that yes, everything looked fine. I finally read the text of the email.

"there is a discrepancy between the twins. However,it is less than two weeks. Please note that there is nothing to worry about and we need not to do any thing further in this matter at this stage of pregnancy."

Now, ironically, I was on the path of no worry... when wham I am told not to worry, which of course causes me to become worried because I can't figure out what I am supposed to not be worrying about!

As usual, Dr. S was quick to quell my fears. Apparently, there is nothing to be worried about (there was just the anticipation that I might be worried-- imagine that) as we are beyond the stage at which point a discrepancy could mean something "worrisome."

Indeed, we just have some big babies!

Twin I is measuring 22 weeks 6 days (1.15 lb) and Twin II is measuring 24 weeks 3 days (1.5 lbs).

We could not be more thrilled!

Let's just say the big work announcement went very similar-- much worry, realization that everything will be fine, big relief. More details to come... just as soon as I get a good night's sleep!

This is So Last Week

2012-01-29T15:26:00.001-05:00

I have been busy doing "stuff" lately.

Like Working.

Which means I have had less time for other "stuff" lately.

Like blogging.

Which means: (1) I am finally catching up on everyone's news-- and there is quite a bit lately-- so please accept my congrats, sympathy and/or sheer delight if any apply-- I will attempt to resume commenting this week, and (2) I am finally catching up on the "Liebster" wildfire and would like to extend my sincerest thank you to CC for the nomination.

It looks like by now everyone has got the idea, but for those of you who like me may have been on hiatus the past few weeks, a little blurb about the Liebster.

Liebster is a German word, meaning dearest or beloved, but it can also mean favorite. The idea behind the Liebster Blog Award is that it is given to bloggers who have less than 200 followers in order to create new connections and bring attention to these wonderful blogs!

And now, a little blurb about why I love CC:

1. She gives crazy hormonal infertile women whom she has never met her cell phone number while they are cycling and tells them to call her "any time."

2. She is a true surrogacy in India pioneer who was brave enough to share her story way before it became in vogue, and as result, has led countless couples who would have otherwise remained childless to their families.

3. She excels at Numbers 1 and 2 while simultaneously excelling as a mommy to twin almost-toddlers.

And now, from what I understand, I am supposed to pass the torch onto another deserving blog, a task which I found relatively easy. I am proud to highlight a VERY important bog, which in turn, highlights over 50 other VERY important blogs:

That is, the blog of Surrogacy Centre India.

What makes this blog so VERY important, is that it is the sole reason many of us on this crazy roller coaster of a ride called surrogacy in India were even able to find the ticket booth in the first place.

Indeed, the Surrogacy Centre India blog gives new meaning to "word of mouth" advertising-- and seeing as international surrogacy is one of the best kept family building option secrets out there, it serves a VERY important role.

Not only does it proudly list links to those blogs of intended parents at all stages of "the journey", it regularly highlights "success stories" of intended parents all around the globe.

It screams "you can do it" "never give up" and "you are not alone."

For all of these reasons, I believe it deserves an award.

The Ultimate To "Not" Do List

2012-01-21T09:29:00.000-05:00

I still can't figure out why I did it, but I did.

When our surrogate was approximately 12 weeks, I created an account on BabyCenter.

A new account.

For this pregnancy. You know, the one where someone else is carrying my babies.

And as we approach Week 22 of "our" pregnancy, I still can't pinpoint exactly why I did it. Maybe I just wanted some acknowledgement that I am part of "the club", or maybe I was hoping that once again I would be bombarded with daily deliveries of sample baby swag and actually be able to use it (for something other than target practice)... or maybe, just maybe, I wanted to see how close I could get to becoming that girl again. (You know, the blissful, infertility-ignorant, post my pee stick on Facebook girl. Yes, that girl.)

Whatever the reason, I have come to the conclusion that it was....stupid, stupid, stupid.

Indeed, rather than making me feel a part of "the Birth Club" it instead serves as a constant reminder that I am Not pregnant, that aside from my bimonthly wire transfers I have no impact on this pregnancy whatsoever, and most recently, that I am seriously slacking on the baby preparations-- because, naturally, I am too terrified to make a move.

Of course, like most infertility downers, sometimes all you can do is laugh. Which is why I have taken the time to assess my progress on the most recent anxiety-inducing email I received from BabyCenter-- The Ultimate Pregnancy To Do List. You can check out my status below.

1. Make sure you're really pregnant. This one totally cracks me up. For the past five months I've been trying to figure out the answer. The evidence (aside from my once a month emails) is seriously lacking, hence, the verdict is still out...

2. Try a home pregnancy test or two in the week after your
period normally arrives. Did it. It was negative- shocking, I know.

3. Take your prenatal vitamin. The folic acid in these is especially important now – it reduces the risk of neural tube defects. Ahhh, one of those great infertility "bonuses." Four years and no baby but darn if I don't have some great lookin' nails.

4. Investigate health insurance. Done. As you can imagine, it was pretty rough choosing from amongst those plans that cover out of country infertility treatments.

5. Know what your health plan covers and where to get help if
you don't have insurance. Nothing and Nowhere.

6. Choose a caregiver. Thankfully, Dr. Google was still accepting new patients.

7. Ask friends, relatives, or your doctor to recommend an OB,
family physician, or midwife – or search online. Let's just say I think we've given new meaning to the "search online" option.

8. Make a prenatal appointment. Get on your caregiver's calendar – but don't be surprised if your first appointment isn't until 8 weeks or later.
20+ weeks and still waiting...

9. Make sure your meds are safe. Ask your caregiver about any prescription and over-the counter medications you're taking. Rest assured the "meds" are safe. (Liquor cabinet has a lock.)

10. If you smoke, quit. No need to. Smoking raises the risk of a host of pregnancy problems, including miscarriage and preterm birth. You don't say. So do five prior miscarriages. Thinking I should've taken my chances with cigarettes.

11. ~~Stop~~ drinking alcohol. Start drinking alcohol.

12. Make sure your activities are pregnancy-safe. Some everyday things may be hazardous now. Like signing up for BabyCenter, hanging out with visibly pregnant women and opening my email every morning.

13. Do your best to eat well. Nearing the third trimester and haven't gained pound!

14. Drink ~~water.~~ Drink wine.

15. Go to bed early. To compensate for staying awake all night worrying.

16. Learn the signs of a pregnancy problem. Like too much wine?

17. Cut down on caffeine. And just how exactly am I supposed to stay up all night worrying if I do this?

18. Think about when you'll announce your pregnancy. Oh I've thought about it plenty. Settled on sometime between "on a plane to India" and "when the babies are born." (But still feeling this might be a little too early.)

Note that this is the Trimester One List. For details on when I will brave opening the Trimester Two List, see above answer to No. 18.

Adults Say the Darndest Things

2012-01-10T19:58:00.000-05:00

Conversation with My Contractor

Me: I'd like to have you measure for some carpet in the spare bedroom. We're expecting twins this spring and want to begin getting their room ready within the next month or so.

Contractor: (awkward glance at my stomach)

Me: With a surrogate. In India.

Contractor: Ohhhhh. (Puzzled look.) Can I ask why two?

Me: (Best "you must be kidding" look.) Oh, you know, they sent us the catalogue and it was a big decision, but eventually we decided, what the heck, let's check "2."

Contractor: (Puzzled look returns.) Um, ok, I'll be out soon to measure.

Sometimes I just can't help myself!

Which One of Them is Not Like the Others?

2012-01-08T10:19:00.000-05:00

My boss's daughter came into the office today.
She's pregnant.
20+ weeks.
With twins.

My other boss's daughter called the office today.
She's pregnant.
20 weeks.
With a singleton.

My coworker in the office next to mine is not pregnant.
But she has twins.

Not surprisingly, there was a whole lot of discussion in the office today about being 20 weeks pregnant and having twins. Discussion, which I am totally qualified to participate in, but can't.

Why? Well,

1. Nobody knows I am 20 weeks "pregnant."
2. Nobody knows I am having twins.

As a result, my asking if they were aware that babies are measuring roughly the size of a banana at the moment would have would have been completely out of line.

Of course, add to the situation that another coworker who is aware of my infertility (but not our News) was giving me a pitiful "so sorry you have to sit through this conversation look" and I was too busy worrying whether my deceitfulness might result in my bursting into flames at any given moment to be concerned about what I could contribute to the conversation.

And while I do intend to share our News in roughly one month or so (I just need one more ultrasound to feel a wee bit more confident), as my weekly BabyCenter email reminded me today, I still will not have anything to contribute to the whole "pregnancy" portion of the conversation.

No, my ligaments are not aching this week, my palms are not red, and though my facial skin tone is a bit uneven, I can assure you that this is the result of one too many summers spent lying on the beaches in Aruba and not, our little May miracles.

Yes, surrogacy in India is a whole different ballgame. Indeed, it is one with a very unique set of "signs." For some dead giveaways, see below:

Top 10 Signs Someone You Know is Pursuing Surrogacy in India

They shower with their smartphone.
They have an uncanny ability to divide by 44 on the fly.
They start using phrases like "only $30,000.00."
When asked their OB's name they say Dr. Google.
Lakshmi and Gupta have made their top 10 baby names list.
Their "hospital bag" consists of 7 suitcases, 400 diapers, 30 bottles and several weeks worth of onesies.
They celebrate a positive pregnancy test with a bottle of wine.
When labor begins their doctor calls them.
When asked their due date they give a 2 month range.
Upon entering the bank, the wire transfer rep hides.

anyone else?

Halfway There!

2012-01-04T21:10:00.000-05:00

As the lyrics (and the enthusiastic crowd reaction) imply we are...

HALFWAY THERE!

THERE as in Delhi, babies, becoming parents, and the big 37 week mark-- a/k/a "full term" for twins.

Earlier this week we were VERY excited to receive our ultrasound report which showed both babies still measuring ahead with Twin I measuring 18 weeks 4 days and Twin II taking the lead at 19 weeks 4 days.

We also received our first 4D pictures which totally melted our hearts. Luckily I had the day off and was able to re-download them roughly every 7 1/2 minutes ALL DAY LONG!

Also accompanying the report was an email reminder from my doctor that "everything is on schedule, hence, you do not need to worry."

Ohhhhhhhh, so that's what "everything is on schedule" means. Good to know. Next time I will not stay up all night worrying.

Ok, that's a big fat lie, however, as part of my New Year's resolution I am going to give it a try.

Because even though I really wanted to share with you how 2012 will be the year I religiously attend that 5:30 a.m. Boot Camp class or actually mail those hundreds of greeting cards I write, I have been "challenged" to tackle something far more difficult.

Thank you Avey, for suggesting that I BELIEVE and ENJOY, and to Doug for "owning it" and challenging me to do the same. (Yes, I run with a tough crowd over here in Blogland.)

Nevertheless, I am always up for a challenge. Which means I promise I will start BELIEVING and ENJOYING just as soon as I reach that 30 week mark.

What? No fair? You think I should start NOW?!? Now, when I've yet to cease sleeping my with smartphone? Now, when I am still adhering to a strict "look but don't touch" policy in the baby aisles lest I "jinx" anything? Now, when I am only half-way there, hence (as my doctor would say) I still have a "whole" half-way to go?

Well, I suppose if it would make certain fellow-bloggers happy, I could try.

After all, what's a New Year's resolution if you can't break it?

I'll keep you posted on my progress...

Mummy in 2012?

2012-01-01T09:42:00.000-05:00

Ok, I swear I meant to put an exclamation point after that title. Darn key is always so sticky!

Because it's not like I'm the least bit uncertain about this actually, finally, after all this time, maybe, possibly, hopefully working out? Hmpfff. There it goes again. I really need to get this keyboard fixed.

What's really funny is back in September somebody promised me that I would be a "mummy in 2012." I know, crazy, right?

Everyone knows that the last thing you ever promise a crazy, hormonal, serial fertility treatment failure is... a baby!

But I kid you not, that's what she said:

"I promise you will be a mummy in 2012."

And of course I laughed it off and figured sooner or later she would figure out just exactly who she had taken on as a patient and quickly retract her statement just as all the other doctors had done...

but darn if two weeks later I didn't get an email with THE most wonderful news ever!

And sure enough, underneath THE most wonderful news ever were the following words:

"Mummy in 2012."

Hindi to English translation? "I told you so."

I love this lady. I love the worldwide friendships I have formed as a result of this lady. And I LOVE that today is the first day of 2012. Because although I may still be having a hard time believing it, according to someone (who apparently keeps her promises)

I am going to be a mummy in 2012!

Happy 2012 to All! Love, Bernadette & Duane

It's official. We're having a...

2011-12-29T12:29:00.000-05:00

Surprise!

That's right, though we are approaching our 18 week mark, there will be no big gender reveal a' la Doug and Bill for us-- congrats by the way on your NEWS-- which means I will need to suppress my inner planner just a while longer (which quite frankly, will be no sweat for a Club Infertility senior member such as myself).

If you are not familiar with surrogacy in India, not finding out the genders of the babies is par for the course for those traveling this route. And while your first thought might be seriously, having a baby half way across the world isn't enough excitement, they really need one more surprise?!? It is, unfortunately or fortunately-- depending on which end of the spectrum you fall-- not our choice.

Because it's against the law.

And to be honest, until I did a little research, I assumed it was some obsolete law that although still on the books, served very little purpose.

Sadly, however, I was wrong. Enacted as recently as 1994 and amended in 2002, the Pre-Natal Diagnostic Techniques Act prohibits the use of technology for sex determination in an effort to curb the unofficially dubbed "gendercide," an apparently, very current problem in certain parts of India.

This past month, ABC News Reporter Elizabeth Vargas published a report of her investigation of the issue.

And while one might question, after reading her report, if it is difficult for me, a wanna-be-mother on one side of the globe, who not only has the financial means to raise a child, but wouldn't hesitate to spend every last penny I've got (and even some that I don't) attempting to conceive a child-- any child-- to reconcile why I am incapable of having a child, when another doesn't-wanna-be-a-mother on the other side of the globe, who has no trouble conceiving but is under such financial pressure to bear a boy child that she would give up a girl child, is capable of having a child.

The answer, to be honest, is not really.

Because, as I approach my 30th birthday, inlessthantwoweeks, I believe that I am finally, after all these years, coming to accept a simply stated, yet incredibly difficult to grasp age-old lesson that goes a little something like this:

Life is just not fair.

Sure, we've all been taught the lesson and know that it's just the way things are, but particularly, with infertility, how often do we end up completely flabbergasted when we find ourselves here again, only to think, damn, how the heck did this happen?!? LIFE IS JUST SO FREAKIN' UNFAIR!

Nevertheless, it's one thing to wallow in this acceptance, and another to accept and move forward, tackling the obstacle head on.

Which I am proud to say we did in a very big way this 2011.

Infertility is unfair. But we have refused to let it stop us from becoming the parents we know we were meant to be.

It took time, and effort, and a whole lot of courage to travel to India and do what we did.

Just as it took time, and effort, and a whole lot of courage for our surrogate to travel to Delhi to sign on to do what she is doing for us.

But, damn, we are all determined!

And while we cannot stop infertility, just as we cannot stop the widespread poverty leading to gendercide, we can, because of our bravery, have the family we desire, just as our surrogate can, because of her bravery, make a better life for herself and her family.

To all my fellow readers to whom 2011 was particularly unfair, I wish for you the bravery to follow all of your dreams come 2012.

Happy Birthday Duane!

2011-12-19T21:43:00.000-05:00

This past weekend we attended my firm Christmas party. When I saw my coworkers (whom Duane had never met) post-party, I was bombarded with comments about what a great husband he is, how kind he is, and what an incredible father he would be (we have not made an announcement yet but it was impossible not to notice as he sat engaged in a conversation about Lightning McQueen with my coworker's twin two year olds).

These are things, of course, that I already knew, however, I will admit that I might sometimes forget to tell him.

So here you go Duane, I'm broadcasting it worldwide, "Ditto to all of the above!" I LOVE YOU!

In addition to it being Duane's birthday, it also marks the day that we officially met... 10 years ago!

We sure have come a long way! While I'm positive a few pictures from that era would give us all a good laugh, the intention is to save this blog as a story for our children, which means that any pictures of mommy in sequined tube tops and/or pleather anything are sadly, off-limits. Needless to say, those were some good times!

But even better, are the great times we are having now! This weekend, I asked Duane what he wanted to do for his birthday and he said the same thing he says every year-- that he just wants to spend it with his family. And every year we attempt to get together-- only inevitably, it snows, or people are sick or some other mini-crises befalls us and we are stuck with a whole lot of food and very little company. (What can I say? It's just the way it works when your birthday happens to fall five days before Christmas.)

Fortunately, we had a few takers this year, and in celebration, I served pizza (delivered) and ice cream (in plastic cups). Funny, of course, because I'm still swearing that I'll be the mom that comes home from work and whips up homemade baby food as she washes cloth diapers (for two). All I can say is we will see.

Anyways, because we have officially entered a new (more mature/less sequined) decade of our relationship below are a few pictures from the big day...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUANE AND CHEERS TO OUR BEST YEAR EVER!!!

All I Want for Christmas

2011-12-17T20:14:00.002-05:00

...well duh, we all know what I want for Christmas. (Of course not on Christmas. More like layaway till May 2012 please.)

And because I want them so bad, I thought it best not to rely on the USPS to get my letter to the North Pole, and instead, arranged for an in-person meeting with the Big Guy himself.

Of course, concerned that I might be about 20 years beyond the appropriate age for sitting on a stranger of the opposite sex's lap (at least one whom I wouldn't eventually end up marrying), I decided it best to take along my 2 1/2 year old niece as a decoy.

Anyways, it totally worked! Niece Natalee could not have played the part of terrified toddler anymore perfect, causing a lengthy enough distraction to allow all the big folk to get their Christmas wishes in.

Here she is "getting into character" following our announcement that we were going to see Santa!

Check out those real live tears. What a ham she is!

Finally all done. Giggling over our success!

Now guess all I have to do is wait for that Christmas wish to come true!

Not a Gamblin' Sort of Gal

2011-12-11T09:45:00.003-05:00

... or maybe I am?

For the first time in months, neither Duane nor I had to work the weekend. Before the situation could change, we threw an armload of clothes into an overnight bag, dropped Carlos off at his doggy-vacation home (where he was spoiled to death by his aunt and cousin), and hopped on the New Jersey Turnpike for a quick weekend get-away to Atlantic City, NJ.

Good old Atlantic City.... for those of you who haven't been (and this is by no means a recommendation that you should go), it's exactly like Las Vegas-- minus the glitz, the sunshine, and the young people.

Nevertheless, it's a quick 21/2 hours away with a few really yummy restaurants, a spa, some pretty fantastic outlet shopping, and a poker room to keep Duane occupied while I am enjoying that pretty fantastic outlet shopping. (Happy to report that Christmas shopping is officially 98% done!)

Duane often remarks on what a gambler I am not, and how I can spend significant amounts of time in a city full of casinos without so much as dropping a penny in a slot machine; however, as I sat in our hotel room this weekend (watching Christmasy movies, ordering room service and catching up on all my tabloid gossip--- yes, it was glorious) I began to ponder whether this statement was true.

Over the past four years, I have, time and again, handed over cash, written checks, and most recently, wired funds half away across the world (and I ain't talking pennies) for a less than 50% chance of success.

Moreover, despite the fact that I have lost, time and again, and again, and again, I never hesitate to reach right back into my pocket for just one more chance, swearing that if I don't win the next time, then, I might consider stopping.

I've often conducted my activities in secret, I've enough good luck charms to sink a treasure chest and I surround myself with like-minded people, who wouldn't think twice about selling their home for the mere opportunity to play another round.

I continually up my bets, I'm obsessed with the thought of winning and I've shied away from support groups, for fear that I'd actually have to discuss the reality of my situation.

So you tell me, am I a gambler?

Sponsor Our Children?

2011-12-10T08:16:00.003-05:00

You may recall way back when, when I called on all my fellow Americans to take less than two minutes to write their U.S. Senators, asking them to support the Family Act of 2011.

In case you've forgotten, the Family Act of 2011 is a bill that would provide a tax credit for the out of pocket costs associated with infertility treatment a/k/a the most phenomenal piece of legislation ever!

Which is why I need your help again. The Family Act of 2011 has now been introduced in the House (can I get a who hoo!) which means that:

We all need to write our U.S. Representatives and let them know that we are counting on them for their support.

I promise, it will take you less than 2 minutes to fill out this pre-drafted letter and hit send.

If you happen to have time to spare more in the 4-5 minute range, go ahead and add a personal note about someone you know who desparately needs this tax credit in order to realize their dream of having a family.

I'd show you my draft but I'm working on um, "toning it down" a bit. Something about the ridiculousness of having to travel over 7,000 miles to have children despite having several acclaimed fertility clinics located within a stone's throw of our house, for one reason and one reason only-- treatment for infertility, a disease that affects 1 in 8 couples, is just too damn expensive!

(I knoooooooow, you catch more flys with honey. Like I said, it's just a draft.)

Also, for the record, we wouldn't change a thing about our journey at this point. We feel fortunate to have FINALLY found a doctor and a clinic that we love who just so happen to be located in a far away land called Delhi, India.

IF, by chance, we are ever able to afford a second journey, we wouldn't even give a second thought to those local clinics. Nevertheless, it sure would be nice to have a tax credit that would make that second journey "dream" a very "real" possibility.

Ok, what are you waiting for? Go write your Representatives NOW!

Oh and THANK YOU VERY VERY VERY MUCH from all the future families-to-be!!!

100 Paper Clips

2011-12-04T19:53:00.003-05:00

We received a surprise scan of our twins today. Not because it was scheduled. Not because we asked for it. Not because anything was wrong. Strictly because our doctor thought that given recent events we would appreciate an extra scan of our "lovely and healthy babies."

Have I mentioned how much we LOVE her?

She is so much more than a doctor; to her, the medical aspect is a small piece of this very large and complicated disease called infertility, and for this, we remain extremely grateful.

It was also our babies' very first weigh in! The report stated that both are weighing in around 100 grams each. As soon as I read this, I immediately thought... paperclips! Two giant (well, maybe medium) piles of paper clips!

Unlike the rest of the world, us Americans prefer to measure things using the far more complicated far less rational standard system of measurement, and so, my knowledge of the metric system is limited to a third grade math unit during which I was exposed to the "foreign" system. I vividly recall completing a matching activity that required the drawing of a line from the unit of measurement to an object of the same approximate weight. As a result, I now associate 1 gram with 1 paperclip.

Which means that each of our babies weighs approximately 100 paperclips!

Sounds light I know, but with the average weight at this stage around 43 grams I remain convinced that these will be some rather BIG babies-- a tribute, of course, to their 6'3" father.

In honor of our growing twins, I engaged in an activity involving 100 paper clips! Any idea what it was? Check out the "progress" shots below.

The "Before" Shot

Carlos' famous "I didn't do it mom" look

Convinced there must be some left over candy from last year inside. Frustrated that he lacks the opposable thumbs to find out.

Done!

Of course, the most special paperclip of all is the one below.

On it hangs the ornament we purchased last weekend for Ken. Our one paperclip baby.

Happy now that his spirit will live on in all our Christmases to come.

Is it Karma?

2011-11-28T20:48:00.004-05:00

To all of our friends,

We thank you again for your kind and supportive words. As you have in the past, you allow us to stand up a little quicker, smile a little sooner, and look forward a little faster.

Ken's follow up scan was done Saturday. Along with the hygroma, he had several other complications, and sadly, no heartbeat. We can only hope that he is in a much better place now.

As most of you know, Ken was one of three miracles due to arrive come spring. We feel incredibly fortunate that along with the loss of Ken, we have not completely lost this very last opportunity to become parents. Nevertheless, I have packed away my first purchase-- a wonderful book called "The Night You Were Born," I have ceased my online baby gear browsing, and I have decided that I will no longer attend my very first "Moms of Multiples" meeting this week.

Sadly, along with losing Ken, I have lost that confidence that I will become a mom this spring.

I feel foolish for thinking that we had finally escaped our black cloud, that surpassing our first trimester meant we were "safe," that we had endured enough loss, enough grief, enough hurt, that lightening couldn't possibly strike again. I have returned to sleeping with my phone, to checking my email at all hours of the night, to fretting over our next scan... even though it is still a long three weeks away.

Not surprisingly, we didn't do anything we had planned for the weekend. Instead, we just did "sad." Having gone through this far too many times, we still have not figured out an easy or a right way to do it. A lot of tears, a lot of anger, no one to blame...

As we sat in bed at 5:00 p.m. Saturday night, not really sure how to function, we came across a documentary called The Sounds of Mumbai. We tuned in, as seeing the people and the sights of India elicited a few longed for smiles.

The documentary is about a group of slum children who are asked to sing with the Bombay Chamber Orchestra. Ashish, a boy of eleven, is given a solo part. Both him and his family see it as their opportunity to escape generations of poverty, their "golden ticket" out of the slums.

Ashish struggles with the immense pressure placed on him, however, his determination is admirable; I find myself cheering for him as he nails his solo on the night of the performance. Shortly after, I find myself crying along with him, as he realizes that aside from compliments, none of the rich attendees have offered him money, a chance to become educated, an opportunity for a new life... none of the rewards he was certain would flow from all of his hard work.

When asked to reconcile the perplexing disparity in wealth amongst the Indian people, a wealthy Indian woman comments that perhaps it is karma. She suggests that perhaps, these slum children, they have done something in their former life that has caused these circumstances, and regardless of how unfair, how unjust, how inexplicable it may seem, it is simply their lot in life... and it is something that cannot be changed.

It makes me wonder. Can we change the direction of this seemingly endless road of sadness? Will all of our hard work, our determination, our perseverance pay off? Surely it cannot be our lot in life to remain childless. Surely we CAN change the future.Though we have lost Ken, we are blessed to have two remaining rays of hope. Please let us hold them in our arms come spring.

Please let us become the parents I know we were meant to be.

Not What I Had Planned to Post Today

2011-11-25T13:15:00.001-05:00

We didn't receive our scheduled scan for Ken today.

Not because he was partying too hard the night before, running a little late, or up to any of his usual antics.

We know now. It was just too hard for him to tell us...

Instead, we received an email from Dr. S asking for the best number to reach us.

I knew it was bad news.

By the time the phone was ringing I was crying, and we both just stared at it, neither one of us wanting to pick it up.

I handed it to Duane, and as he was listening I'm asking "Is he gone?" And Duane says "Well, no" and before he can finish I take the phone. I should have let him finish...

Now Duane is crying and as I'm listening to Dr. S, he is telling me, "Tell her we'll love him no matter what. Whatever is wrong with him we don't care. We want him."

Ken has a cystic hygroma. Dr. S is going to terminate the pregnancy.

I am glad that in that split second before Dr. S gave me the news, Duane said what he said. In my heart, I need to know that if we were given the choice, we would have fought for Ken. Unfortunately, there is no choice. His condition is fatal and we know that Dr. S knows what is best for everyone involved.

Our surrogate is sad. She is not talking. I pray that she will be matched with another loving couple, and that the sadness will fade as she helps another couple realize their dreams.

I woke up this morning, poised to write a lovely post about how much better today was as compared to three years ago today... the day we lost our first set of twins.

It wasn't better. It wasn't worse.

It was the same. The same heart wrenching sadness of loss that has haunted us since we first embarked on our family building journey. Unfortunately, we cannot insulate ourselves from it-- no matter how much money we spend, how many egg donors or surrogates or different doctors we use, no matter how many gestational milestones we pass. Somehow, this sadness, it always returns...

Are We There Yet? Are We There Yet? Are We There Yet?

2011-11-20T17:57:00.002-05:00

Well, we may not be "THERE" yet, but we have officially/unofficially made it to Trimester

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.... the unofficial part being that we're not exactly sure when Trimester 2 begins?!? However, as of yesterday, our conception age was 11 weeks 4 days, we received our "12" week scan, and "our twins" (still haven't come up with blogging names for them yet) were measuring in at 13 weeks 1 day and 13 weeks 3 days. Which, if my calculations are correct (11 weeks 4 days + 12 weeks + 13 weeks 1 day + 13 weeks 3 days) equals graduation to the second trimester!!! Apparently, judging from their size, these little gals were just as anxious to plow through that first trimester as we were!

Go babies go!

Along with our ultrasound pictures, we also got a "bonus" page full of random letters and numbers. To be honest, it might as well have been written in Hindi-- we hadn't a clue what anything meant. So, we dutifully copy and pasted each line into google, and wouldn't you know it, everything is just fine! Head size, nasal bone, nuchal lucency, athletic ability (just kidding)... it was all there and we are thrilled to hear that everybody is doing "a-ok." My favorite line, of course, was "the liquor is adequate." Indeed, the liquor is adequate at mommy's house as well-- these past few months have been VERY stressful!

And while this whole "average, normal, everything is fine" concept is still very new to us, we are slowly getting used to the idea, which is the very reason I received this second email yesterday morning:

No sorry, this is a $400 stroller, I will take $175 but there is no way I would take $50. Best Offer usually means a REASONABLE offer. Your offer is a joke and very unreasonable.

Bahahaha, guess who was on Craigslist the night before "browsing" for triplet strollers??? The seller's response of course can be read in one of two ways: (1) I am "cost-conscious" (nice way of saying cheap) or (2) I am not quite ready to actually make a baby purchase, but I am at least becoming comfortable with the "idea" of making a baby purchase.

The truth is, the answer is both. I will always be the "saver" in the relationship, and I certainly predict that my efforts will increase as soon as we acquire three more mouths to feed. I am also, however, not quite ready to go baby shopping yet. I am getting very close though, and accordingly, expect to see some mindless "small" ticket item purchases in the coming weeks (minivans and triplet strollers to be reserved for 25+ weeks).

Finally, as Ken has now managed to have his scans scheduled a full week apart from the twins (yes, we see this as a sign of things to come) we will be reserving his graduation festivities for the end of this week. Until then, much love to all, particularly those who are dreaming sweet dreams of a delicious Thursday feast!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2011-11-16T19:23:00.009-05:00

.... depending on who you are.

It's official. A week prior to Thanksgiving and right before our eyes the WHOLE WORLD is slowly transforming into a giant winter wonderland. Twinkling trees, mall Santas, daily catalogues screaming toys, toys, toys!

For many, this time of year is indeed, The Most Wonderful Time of Year. Unfortunately, for those who suffer from infertility, these "magical wonderments" can leave one wanting to crawl up under the tree skirt until the morning after the ball drop. (Or at least slightly before. We all know there's nothing the infertile loves more than a giant glass of champers to drown the sorrows away.)

Don't know if it's my age, the changing times, my infertility (um, yeah) or a combination of all three, but roughly four years ago it dawned on me just how "kidcentric" the holidays had become. Which is right about when I suffered my first bout of... HOLINXIETY!!!

In case you're not familiar with the term:

Hol-in-xi-et-y: the feeling one who suffers from infertility gets upon realizing that she is going to endure yet another set of "er" ending months without a child of her own.

As used in a sentence:

I had major Holinxiety when I attended my work Christmas party and all my pregnant coworkers spent the evening counting the number of pieces of sushi they were eating so as not to exceed their weekly mercury limit.

I had major Holinxiety when I waited in line for an hour (to buy toilet paper) while the moms with carts full of toys in front of me complained about how stressful it was having their kids home on break.

I had major Holinxiety when I couldn't find anywhere to park, because the only spots open were labeled "Stork Parking-- for Expectant Moms."

I had major Holinxiety when I received my fifty-third matching-sweater family photo holiday greeting card and discovered that I don't even have a Shutterfly account.

Infertility sucks. Infertility around the holidays can be DOWNRIGHT MISERABLE.

While I'm more than grateful that my own Holinxiety symptoms have diminished this year, my heart aches for all my friends who are still awaiting their good news.

While I know I can't bring them what they really want for Christmas, I've decided that this holiday season, I'm going to do what little I can to help "cure" their Holinxiety. Small, subtle things, that will make them smile versus make them feel like I'm throwing them a giant pity party.

This past weekend, I started by discreetly picking up the tab of good friend who had several glasses of wine to get her through a baby shower we both attended. (I admire her. A baby shower during the holiday season? She is one strong lady.) I could tell that she was grateful, not because I paid the tab but because she felt like I "got" it. Which, of course, I do...

Mommys and daddys, mommys and daddys to be, mommys and daddys in waiting... though we may be at different stages in our journeys, we are all in this together.

Cheers to hoping we can lend each other support, to make it a Wonderful Time of Year... for all.

Ken a/k/a Our Troublemaker

2011-11-13T08:07:00.002-05:00

We've been working on coming up with gestational names for our growing babies, mainly so that we can stop flinching every time we refer to them as "the twins" and "the singleton." Of course, seeing as there are multiple women, multiple babies and one "Duane" contributing to our expectant state, I believe that the addition of more names is going to require a Who's Who page, lest the stray reader who stumbles upon my blog think that we are getting ready to shoot our very own episode of Sister Wives: Across Two Continents.

But I digress. Duane has officially dubbed "the singleton," "Ken," short for his namesake Ken Singleton. Haven't a clue who he is? Yeah, me neither. Nevertheless, I thought it was pretty witty. As a result, I concurred (which apparently is how this whole naming thing works-- two parents need to agree on one name) and "the singleton" is now "Ken." At least for the next 7 months (at which point I will exercise my executive powers as Wife and Mother, and christen him with a new name without any relation to pro sports.)

However, after this week, I'm finding it rather appropriate that Duane has taken on the naming of this child, seeing as Ken has now officially cemented his role as his "father's child." In other words, it's clear he is going to be the troublemaker in the group. At 6 weeks he gave us a scare by measuring a week apart from his gestational "house," at 8 weeks he spent an extra day partying it up following Diwali, while his parents stayed awake the entire night, wondering why they hadn't heard from him, and most recently, at 101/2 weeks, he failed to appear as scheduled once again.

I know I'm violating the cardinal rule of parenting multiples with what I'm about to say next, but really Ken, why can't you be more like your siblings?!? You know, the overachieving, punctual ones? Mommy and daddy have been through enough. Could you please just curb the antics until after you are in our arms?

But, we're on to him now, and when he didn't appear in my email as scheduled on Friday I remained cool as a cucumber. (Ok, if we're being honest, I may have sent one tiny email to our doctor asking if our scan had occurred, but it was nothing compared to the all-points bulletin I sent out last time.)

And sure enough, when we awoke Saturday morning, there he was looking cute as ever, waving to us from the computer screen with his newly unwebbed fingers. Naturally, we were overjoyed. Carlos, unfortunately, had his very own Toby moment-- literally, leaping across the bed, straight into my lap and letting out a growl like we've never heard before directed straight at the computer screen. It was classic and left us rolling on the floor. (Poor guy... wait until we break it to him that Ken will be arriving with not one, but two roommates!)

And last but not least....

HUGE CONGRATS TO DOUGLAS AND CHAD ON THEIR TWO NEWEST ADDITIONS-- Looking forward to all the upcoming "Tips on Parenting Multiples" posts!!!

Very Special Children

2011-11-10T22:24:00.008-05:00

My sister Elizabeth is 3 years and 3 months older than me. Having a sister 3 years and 3 months older is very special indeed. It means that never in my life have I been without:

someone to play with (even if it meant that I was always the student, the hostess and the dad while she got to be the teacher, the waiter and the mom)

someone to show me the art of the feathered bang (we were '80s children)

someone to show me the art of bleached blonde hair and indoor tanning (we were '90s teenagers)

someone to drive me to all the cool places when my parents temporarily turned not-cool
someone with whom I could share a bottle of wine (or two)
someone to call late night when I've had a bad day
someone to call mid-day when I've had a good night
someone to "borrow" clothes from... without asking

and most importantly...

a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, and an ear to listen when I needed to vent about lost pregnancies, failed cycles and the fact that I still fit into my skinny jeans... when all I really wanted was a big 'ole pair with an elastic band

because like it or not, we both ended up members of Club Infertility...

Which means that like it or not, we have both always known that we'll each get one shot at this whole pregnancy thing (and be grateful that we even got that). Which means that whether they like it or not, we have always vowed that our very special children will be the best of friends and enjoy the same unique relationship that we share.

We call this our "Happy Couple Waiting to Adopt" pose

When diagnosed with infertility I was told that the odds of my becoming a mom were in the 1-5% range.

My sister was given lesser odds than that.

My sister's daughter was born Summer 2009.

My children will be born Spring 2012.

OUR CHILDREN will be exactly 3 years and 3 months apart.

Very special children indeed...

For Bec...

2011-11-08T06:05:00.002-05:00

My wonderful Aunt E sent this to me when our 1st Indian/5th & 6th Total transfers failed. (She is an incredibly thoughtful lady and I know that she would not mind my sharing.) Hoping that you will lean on us-- your surro family-- to find a way to stand back up. We will ALL be here for you as you find your legs just as you have been there for us. Love, All of Us

All I've Ever Wanted

2011-11-06T21:07:00.003-05:00

By: Bernadette, Esq.

Over the past two months, I have worked hard to perfect my sleepless night stare at my smart phone hit refresh button every two seconds routine. As a result, I was quite pleased this past Friday when I was able to apply my newly acquired talent to activities other than checking for ultrasounds from India.

For those of you who recall, I sat for the bar exam a week prior to our trip to India. Like infertility, acquiring your license to practice law in the USA takes too long, costs too much, and often leaves you wondering what possessed you to hop on the crazy-train in the first place.

Nevertheless, when it's all over and you finally SUCCEED... boy does it feel good!

And so, I was thrilled to receive notice on Friday that if ever I am in the mood to display an air of superiority, justify my penchant for "debating" marital issues with Duane, or oh yeah, practice law, I am free to tack three special little letters onto the end of my name because... I have officially passed the bar!

Can I get a GIANT sigh of relief please? (I'll spare you the story of a girl who had a complete break down mid-exam on Day 1 when her computer crashed one fourth the way through Essay Question #3. However, if Dad, Esq. happens to be reading, "that girl" would like to publicly THANK him for the mid-day pep talk, the after exam support, and the phenomenal celebratory dinner this past Friday!)

And wouldn't you know it, because I was so relieved to receive the above piece of news, I made it through an ENTIRE ONE HOUR yoga class the following morning without checking my phone for an ultrasound update-- now that's what I call progress-- after which I discovered that we had received our update and both Twin I and Twin II (definitely coming up with blogging suedos for these gals this week) continue to do wonderfully, measuring roughly a week and a half ahead with solid heart rates of 150 and 156. AHHHHHHHHHHH! Look out second trimester, here we come!!!

To top off this fantabulous weekend, a good friend of mine that I met in law school got married last night, which meant I had the opportunity to spend the weekend with my three favorite newly minted lawyers a/k/a the only other people on the planet who could truly appreciate just how AWESOME this bar-passing thing feels.

Feeling very official with our new titles

It was also the first time I got to share "our baby news" with them in person. Over the past three years, I spent a LOT of time with these lovely ladies. They were the perfect infertility friends-- young, childless and still more concerned with not getting pregnant than getting pregnant. Unfortunately for them, acquiring me as a friend meant that they got a crash course in all things baby-making-- whether they signed up for it or not. Nevertheless, they were always there for me as the bad news came pouring in.

Which is why last night it felt SO GOOD to finally have some positive news to share! Of course, the highlight of the night (aside from one of the above mentioned ladies "dancing her way to the cake line") was definitely the woman at our table, whom none of us had ever met, eyeing up my stomach and commenting to her date about the number of vodka tonics I was pouring back. We couldn't understand it, until we realized that the entire night we had been discussing "my pregnancy" and "my babies due in the spring." To make matters worse, throughout the night, I continually asked her if she was sure she wouldn't like a drink, only to discover that when she stood up, she was sporting a baby bump of her own. Perhaps I should start wearing a disclaimer of sorts when out in public and simultaneously drinking alcohol and discussing my unborn children. (Or not. The look on our tablemate's face was priceless!)

As a result of all this recent good news, my sister asked me this weekend what third good thing I thought was coming my way-- you know, because "good things come in threes." First the babies, then the bar, what third "good thing" could possibly be next? Whatever it is, I don't want it. Seriously. I have never been SO HAPPY in my entire life.

This is it. It's ALL I've ever wanted. I have a wonderful husband, an engaging career and most importantly, I AM GOING TO BE A MOM (x3)!

What else in the world could I possibly want?

Just Practicing

2011-10-30T18:56:00.002-04:00

We got in some good "parent" practice this week. In fact, it's probably safe to say that we became experts in the area of "staying up all night and worrying."

The initial worrying began when our last ultrasound of our singleton showed that the gestational sac was measuring about 5 days behind the embryo. (FYI- If this happens to you, do NOT google. Rather, just skip to the end of this post.) As a result, for the past two weeks, we have, at times, been a bit fearful of what our next ultrasound would reveal.

However, we know that these babies-- the ones that FINALLY made the cut-- are the most strong-willed, determined, persevering little guys/gals on this planet given all the obstacles they had to overcome. And so, for the most part, we remained hopeful that this little one would laugh in the face of Dr. Google's statistics and catch right on up to his brothers/sisters.

And we continued to remain hopeful until roughly 1:00 p.m. on our scan day, at which point the panic began to set in. As I mentioned earlier in the week, our scan was moved from Monday to Thursday because of the Diwali holiday. I point this out, only to show that we were well aware that this was a week of Diwali celebrations.

And despite knowing this ahead of time, we still let our fears get the best of us.

Shortly after our usual "window of notice"-- 9 a.m. to 11 a.m.-- came and went, Duane and I began to email back and forth, speculating on why we had yet to receive our scan. Duane did a fair job of maintaining moral for a few hours with messages like "Diwali hangovers for sure! I bet we'll hear soon."

But eventually, as morning turned to afternoon here, which meant afternoon was turning to night in India, we began to stress. Really bad. Duane called and told me he was sick to his stomach. At this point I was sick too. Mainly because: (a) Duane rarely calls me at work, and (b) Duane never worries (at least when he does you'd never know it).

And so now, the two of us are convinced that we didn' receive a scan email because it's bad news. And that because its such bad news, we will surely be receiving an alternative phone call any minute. It was a horrible afternoon.

I met Duane after work to commiserate. By now it's evening our time, and middle of the night India time. Which means of course, that I could email till I was blue in the face, but that regardless, our friends in India would still be doing what normal people do in the middle of the night--- sleeping.
Of course now, I am convinced that it's such bad news that our doctor couldn't bear to call me in the afternoon and needs to sleep on it before she breaks it to me. (I know, I know, totally ridiculous looking back but those of you who have been there know where I was coming from.)

Finally, I email around 4 a.m. our time-- because I am still awake at this point and it is now daytime in India-- with a subject line akin to "Can somebody please let me know if everything is ok???" (I have no doubt that at this point in time I have been placed on the "Crazy IP" list.) Our doctor gets right back to me to let me now that everything is just fine. Reports were received a day later because of the abundance of appointments moved to Thursday.

Moments later we received the most beautiful picture ever. (Am I allowed to say that? Because to be honest, this little guy-- we're already convinced it's our boy though we haven't any reason for this hypothesis-- really is a bit more photogenic than his twin siblings.) There he was, measuring right on target, with an appropriately sized gestational sac (hooray!), and a heart rate of 168 bpm.

Anybody know how to say relieved in Hindi? Because that's what we were. So. Relieved. After a short cry, we began to ooh and ahh over the cuteness his little elbows and eyeball-- because there really aren't a whole lot of other body parts to ooh and ahh over at this point-- and reflect again, as we find ourselves doing daily, on how incredibly grateful we are to be at this point.

This surrogacy stuff, it's not for the faint of heart. I am always quick to boast of all that we have "gained" from going this route-- a wonderful surro community, appreciation for a beautiful culture, and most importantly, our three little growing babies.

Nevertheless, nothing can compensate for not having those babies HERE, during those times when you NEED that reassurance that everything is okay!

Thankfully, however, everything WAS okay, which allowed us to spend the remainder of our weekend worry-free -- well, as worry-free as you can be throughout this whole experience-- as we "practiced" dressing up in silly costumes for future embarrass-our-children moments.

Happy Halloween!

We Really Need Children

2011-10-22T20:45:00.002-04:00

Check out Carlos in his new sweater and (reflective) mittens set!

As you can imagine, he was thrilled with the new look. We tried to reassure him that this will likely be the last year he ever has to suffer through the humiliation of wearing matching sweater/mitten sets...

Having his hair styled in bows...

Being toted around in a pink purse...

However, we also told him that he may be begging (pun intended) to return to the good ole' days of pink bows and pink bags (which are simply a product of my having nobody else to dress up and tote around) when he realizes what's in store for him in another seven months.

Hey Carlos, remember how thrilled you were when we took you for a ride in that car at your cousin's house?

Now picture 3 of her.

What's that Carlos? You LOVE your new mittens??? Yep, that's what I thought.

And speaking of our 3 new tenants due to arrive in another 7 or so months, we received news today that Minnie has been released from the hospital. Yay! And with that news, we also received a surprise scan of the twins! Double yay!

At 7 weeks 4 days we have 2 little guys/gals or a combo of the two measuring in at a whopping 9 weeks 0 days! Let's just say that they are either (a) some serious overachievers like their mother, or (b) of the linebacker build like their father. Either way, with heart rates of 146 and 152, we are SO PLEASED and SO GRATEFUL for this incredible news!

For the first time since the Good News began, I have allowed to myself to REALLY GET EXCITED, acting all crazy (literally, waving to the babies on the computer screen) and genuinely smiling ear to ear that I might just get that stay at home mom job after all!

On top of that, it was the first time we've ever received a scan on a weekend which made it extra-super special! Usually, my Monday ritual consists of me opening up a barely readable scan on my smart phone, racing into the bathroom and doing a short jig/cheer of sorts in front of the mirror, plastering on a somber face (lest anyone at the firm guess that I just got news about MY BABIES IN INDIA!), and returning to my desk to forward to Duane, who I can't even talk to about "the news" until we both get off work late in the evening.

Snuggling on the couch this morning and looking at those babies on the "full screen" TOGETHER-- it was pure bliss!

And of course, not to be forgotten, I should mention that our singleton's scan has been moved to Thursday because of the Diwali holiday. Stay tuned for updates on this little guy/gal later in the week!

News

2011-10-20T07:18:00.000-04:00

I have a ritual every morning. As soon as the alarm goes off, before I do ANYTHING, I slide my phone out from under my pillow, squint in the darkness, and scroll through the recent emails that I've acquired in my slumber. This morning, my heart stopped as I saw the subject line Mxxxx-Admission.

Minnie is in the hospital and being treated for severe nausea. She is on an IV as she can't eat or drink anything.

It's difficult to explain how I am feeling right now. For the first time since receiving news of the pregnancy, I am crying. Giant tears full of love for this incredible woman whom I have never met. I am wishing I could race to the airport, jump on a plane and sit by her side for the next eight months. Of course, I don't even know what I would say. How do you even begin to thank someone else for making your dreams come true? You can't. There are simply no words that could ever capture this kind of gratitude.

Maybe I would just sit and hold her hand...

We do know, however, that she is under the exceptional care of SCI, that all necessary measures are being taken, and that it seems with treatment, both she and babies should be fine-- that this is actually fairly common at this point in a multiple pregnancy. (Can anybody who's been there confirm? I could use a little reassurance.)

Sending SO MUCH love and good thoughts to our Minnie and babies and wishing for her very speedy recovery!

No News is Good News, Right?

2011-10-18T20:02:00.002-04:00

Apparently I didn't make it clear to local family that this Monday was our first No-News Monday.

Around 8:00 last night I got a text from my little sister (to be read in an ever so slightly impatient voice):

Sister: "India news? I don't like waiting for the blog..."

Me: "Sorry, this is our first No-News Monday."

Sister: "Boo. Ok. No news is good news. I read that on your friend's blog."

Indeed she did! Seems to be the Indian surrogacy mantra.

Seriously, I think we should all get t-shirts made. On the front: No news is good news. On the back: I survived surrogacy in India.

Anyways, if it's even possible, I think I checked my email MORE times than I have on past Mondays (because at least on days that I am scheduled to get news, I am able to let the checking subside once I get the news), but regardless I AM NOT COMPLAINING.

Seriously, if you told me that in order to hold these babies in my arms I'd have to stand on my head, hold my breath, and listen to SportsCenter continuously for the next eight months, you know what? I WOULD DO IT. In fact,

I WOULD DO ANYTHING IN THE WORLD FOR THESE BABIES!

Of course, looking back on all that we have done to get to This Point, I think that sort of goes without saying;)

And for those of you who ARE keeping track, our next scheduled scan is Monday...

Dare to Compare

2011-10-15T18:18:00.001-04:00

If you are: (a) a bona fide mommy or daddy, (b) one of our local cheerleaders, (c) a first trimester graduate, or (d) any combination of the above, go ahead and skip this one. Really. It will definitely bore you, possibly baffle you, and might (but hopefully not since I know you're going to read anyways) lead you to rethink your friendship with me.

I am just going to start by putting it out there.

Us intended parents, we are crazy.

One hundred percent justifiably so, but nevertheless, capital C-R-A-Z-Y crazy. And I could spend all day on why that is, but to sum it up, we are all a product of some combination of lost pregnancies, failed treatments, drained bank accounts and strained marriages who, for some reason, happen to have the most fertile friends/coworkers/relatives on this planet. It is, enough to drive even the most sanest of persons straight to the loony bin.

And I believe that we all envision ourselves, someday, one day, getting that long awaited "phone call/email" (as is often the case when you are infertile), telling us that yes, we ARE pregnant, and that FINALLY we can cross over into the Land of No Worry, and that we are free to let go of all the craziness, the obsessions, the anxiety... that we are FINALLY free to let it all just melt away.

And from these past few weeks, I can tell you that I have had those blissful moments every time I receive my Monday emails confirming that yes, I'm going to be a mom (still). And I can tell you that they are every bit as special and exciting and endorphin-inducing as I always imagined they would be.

And I can also tell you that roughly 10 hours, 1 blog post and a celebratory dinner later... it's straight on back to the loony bin.

Oh Dr. Gooooooooooooogle!

Are you in? Of course you are. I know that you work a glorious 24 hours a day, particularly when I am in my worst state of panic at oh say, 3:00 in the morning. Just one question. Ok, who am I kidding. Just 553 questions. Ready. Go. First, I forgot the answer to the question that I just asked you 2.314 seconds ago. Well, actually, I didn't forget. I just wanted to confirm the answer for the thousandth time. Also, I was thinking that in the past 3 minutes since I last refreshed my smart phone, you might have come up with a different answer-- that is, a different answer than the one posted on my actual computer. What's that you say? I AM supposed to have a sac at this point?!? Or is too early? Or is too LATE? Or is it too early AND too late?!? And now, as a result of it being too early AND too late, I have a 0.0000000000000000000000000132345 % chance of losing the pregnancy?!? I knew it. I just knew it. What about my ultrasound pictures? How do they compare to others? No, not just the first five Google images. All 653 ultrasound images ever posted on Google. And Bing. And Yahoo. And when I type in 5 weeks 6 days, stop showing me pictures of 6 week ultrasounds!!! It's freaking me out and I am NOT ready to obsess about the heartbeat. Or maybe I should be you say? Because according to you, roughly 0.513% of pregnancies, give or take a few, see a heartbeat during the fifth week?!? Dammit! I can't find when you posted about that one patient who already had a heartbeat and she was 1.3465 WHOLE DAYS behind me! But wasn't her ultrasound done at 3:42 p.m. when mine was done at 8:23 a.m.-- so I get points for that, right? RIGHT?!? Dr. Google, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!? That's it!!! I'm going to bother my REAL doctor! Or not. She actually knows what she's talking about AND she's going to tell me everything is ok. Clearly, she does not know me!!! Clearly, she does not know that ANYTIME I HAVE EVER ATTEMPTED TO HAVE A BABY IT HAS NEVER EVER WORKED OUT! CLEARLY SHE DOES NOT KNOW JUST HOW CRAZY I AM!!!

Temmy (and anyone else who is "behind" me in the process and madly searching my blogging archives to assess my stats), in case you are reading (which I know you are), my 5 week ultrasounds did not reveal anything but several 'lil ole gestational sacs and then, voila, next week we have a few beautiful heartbeats. Haha, are you cursing me for not being specific enough? We hate words like "several" and a "few." We want cold hard statistics! How else can we compare?!?

I should also tell you, that if I was crazy enough (which of course I am not ) when I was stressing over the same thing as you, to have combed through everyone of Dr. S's blogger archives to see whether other IPs saw a yolk sac at the same exact point, I would imagine (because of course I never did something like this) that most, I take that back, a CLEAR majority of IPs never saw one at the before 5 week point either. Mere speculation, of course...

Infertility Bonuses

2011-10-13T22:09:00.000-04:00

I realize I've been sparse with the details lately... particularly regarding my magical Monday moments. To be honest, I feel as if these past three weeks I've been living a dream, and I am ~~scared~~ terrified that the moment I cement my good news in reality, it will disappear just as quickly as it arrived.

And so, my apologies for the lack of detail surrounding these oh-so-special Monday emails. I promise that in a few weeks, say maybe 35 or so, I'll be feeling a lot more confident. Until then, bear with me as I post about the un-Mondays-- some of which have proven to be almost as exciting!

Rare are the moments when I am "grateful" for my infertility--- but this past Sunday was one of them! Allie and Harris happened to be in town and we were able to arrange a very special brunch get together. Boy did we have a GREAT time! We bonded over food allergies, sports talk (more Duane and Harris), teacher talk (more Allie and I), fertility financial woes (all of us), and our incredible adoration for Dr. S.

If you recall, one of the reasons I started this blog is because when we were starting out, so many "ahead" of us in this process graciously shared their bags of tips and tricks. We had always hoped that we would someday be able to return the favor and it looks like that day has come!

It was a fantastic time had by all, and we are so hopeful for Allie and Harris because after meeting them, I am certain that they are going to make two REALLY AMAZING parents!

After brunch, Duane and I moseyed around Georgetown, and eventually headed home with one final stop to make. On my Top Five Things I Miss the Most about India List are the magnificent Hindu temples. Fortunately, there are several in the D.C. area (temples at least-- once you've been to India, it's tough to measure high on the "magnificent" meter). Anyways, we google-mapped the closest and were totally gung-ho to drop in and say a prayer... that is, until we arrived in the parking lot.

Not really having thought this through, and only having a surface understanding of the Hindu religion, we were concerned when we saw the fifty or so cars in the parking lot that perhaps this was not an appropriate time to "drop in."

Lucky for us, "Rasik" pulled up next to our car. Can I just say that we felt like we were in India all over again? The entire congregation could not have been any friendlier. We were invited in for tea and coffee, asked if we wanted to stay for a lecture (we politely declined), bombarded with email addresses and phone numbers, urged to come to the weekend Diwali festivities, and of course, shown to the shoe room so that we could do what we came to do.

On top of all this, nobody even mentioned my praying faux pas. (When I opened my eyes I realized I was standing in the midst of a group of men because I had been praying on the men only side. An honest mistake-- the temples in India were gender neutral throughout.)

Regardless, it was a delightful time, and after sharing our stories of our India travels, Rasik shared his big news with us. Ready for this?

They are building an Akshardam in... dun da da da... NEW JERSEY!

Dead. Serious. Bet you didn't guess that one! I really can't comment on this without possibly offending one of our favorite New Jersey resident blogging families and so, I will simply leave you with a picture of the last time New Jersey attempted to duplicate India...

Let's just say we are quite anxious to see how the two compare!

No Words

2011-10-10T22:15:00.001-04:00

108 bpm, 102 bpm, 108 bpm

All In

2011-10-05T20:38:00.000-04:00

That's what if feels like now every Monday.

Win the week before, push our chips back in, anxiously await the flop, and ever so slowly peek at the cards as our fate is revealed.

Problem is, I am NOT a gambler. Seriously, can't I just take my prize and go home??? Unfortunately, not. Rules are that we've got about another 8+ worth of months to knock out before we can get up from the table.

But the good news is... we're still in the game! We are happy to report that the email(s) have arrived, as have our very first scans!

Our first Monday morning email was for Minnie. (Because both of our surrogates' names begin with an M, I am officially giving them blogging suedos of Minnie and Cher. Minnie for our super cute and tiny surro (who am I kidding they are BOTH super cute and tiny) and Cher for our single-named lady.)

In keeping with the poker analogy, let's just say, Minnie's got a full house. Literally. That's right, she is 4 for 4 at the moment. 4 gestational sacs measuring 4 weeks 5 days-- which by my calculations is the exact day they should have been measuring when we received our Monday news. Good job Minnie!

Cher, as we expected, is sporting a single sac measuring 4 weeks 3 days, and I would just like to say that I am EQUALLY proud of her. (See, won't I make a good multiples mommy?)
Anyways, it goes without saying that we are totallycompletelyoverthemoonexcited by all this news BUT equally nervousanxiousandtotallyscared that we will somehow jinx it by becoming TOO totallycompletelyoverthe moonexcited.

As a result, I have resisted the urge to write in all caps and press down on the shift+1 keys for ten straight lines. At least for the moment.

Nevertheless, this does not mean that I can't go totally crazy over somebody else's news...

CONGRATULATIONS TEMMY ON RECEIVING THE MOST WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER!!!

(See you in Delhi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Fortunes

2011-09-28T22:45:00.000-04:00

I couldn't have said it better.

It is an extraordinarily long journey but we are so fortunate to blessed with the BEST of company. Thank you for sharing both our highs and our lows and for the unending support through it all. We are one lucky couple!

Celebrating our incredible good fortune!

Monday Betas

2011-09-26T18:53:00.000-04:00

I lied. Sometimes they are the best...

103

494

Preparing for the Worst...

2011-09-25T08:47:00.002-04:00

... But Hoping for the Best!!!

Following our transfer(s) last week we received our beta testing date. Our clinic informed us that the all important email would be sent... drum roll please... 11 days past our FET a/k/a a Monday!

Oh geez. Not sure if this date was going to work for me. I began to mull it over:

First, it's 11 days past a transfer of embryos frozen on day 3. This means that if we get a low beta, it could be a low beta because it's still very early OR it could be a low beta because we're the victims of yet another chemical pregnancy. Last transfer, one of our surrogates started out with a beta in her 20s (12 days past transfer). It was torture. Not because I actually had hope that it was going to miraculously double/triple/quadruple into a viable pregnancy, but, simply, because it causes a huge source of tension between Duane and I as we await the second beta 48 hours later.

Duane is the eternal optimist. And I get it. He likes to think that we'll be that 1 in a million couple that goes on to have a healthy pregnancy despite a low beta. You know, that one couple that EVERY desperate mommy-wanna-be who's ever googled "low beta results in successful pregnancy" comes across on the internet and thinks, hey, if it can happen to her then it can totally happen to me!

I know better. And I'm over it. Way over it. I've tried to recall how many times I've done the beta tests (both to check if their doubling, and worse yet, to ensure that they are decreasing all the way to zero after a confirmed chemical or miscarriage). And you know what's sad? I can't. So many freakin' times, that I've actually lost count.

Which of course rustles up some of my fondest infertility memories revolving around The Beta Tests. Every freakin' time, the same old drill. Phone call that I've got a low beta. Get a lab slip to have it tested two days later. Walk into lab. Wait for an hour in a cramped waiting room with about 500 visibly pregnant women. Same receptionist (who I LOATHE) is on duty. Asks me 10 times if I'm sure I've been here in the last 5 months because she's unable to locate me in the system. Yes, Loathsome Lady, I swear I was JUST here for the SAME EXACT THING 2 months ago! (Hoping perhaps that now that I am raising my voice it will jog her memory.) It doesn't. Well, I'm sorry Miss, I just can't find you in the system. Would you mind filling out about 200 pages worth of paperwork? Yes, I would ABSOLUTELY mind filling out about 200 pages worth of paperwork WHEN I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT I'M IN YOUR STUPID SYSTEM!!! Hmmm, well I'm just not seeing you. Can you tell me what you're here for? In my best about to lose it voice-- Loathsome Lady, I am here for an HCG test. An HCG test? Oh wow! You mean a pregnancy test! Congratulations! And at this point I just dissolve into tears. Every time. And Loathsome Lady is confused, and the 500 visibly pregnant women are confused, and me? I'm just sad. I'm just angry. I'm just speechless. Because I'm just infertile...

On top of this, Monday betas are THE WORST. (Funny how after all these years the tests have NEVER fallen on a weekend. Go figure.) Anyways, regardless of when I receive The News, I still have to stoically finish out my work week, concentrating on no less than one hundred other non-pregnancy related tasks-- which, quite frankly, is impossible. (And although I've never experienced it, I would imagine that if we receive GOOD NEWS-- which we are please, please hoping that we FINALLY will-- I would still be encumbered with the same completely distracted unable to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the week thoughts. So, in sum, the shorter the span of time between The News and The Weekend... The Better.

Which is why I ultimately asked our clinic to email me at 14 days past transfer. I cannot deal with the maybes and I am hoping to accomplish an entire week's worth of work prior to that date. Of course, we are desperately hoping that there will be no "maybe" issues to deal with (because we just so happen to have an amazingly high beta), AND that the ONLY reason I'm unable to focus on Thursday and Friday is a result of a little too much champagne the night before. It is sad that at This Point-- 8 cycles, 7 transfers, 6 REs, 5 miscarriages, 4 surrogates, 3 donors, 2 countries and well, we're still hoping for that 1 baby-- we find it necessary to Prepare for the Worst, so that the rest of Life does not crumble alongside our beta results. Nevertheless, we are STILL, simultaneously,

HOPING FOR THE BEST!!!

Channeling My Inner Orange White and Green

2011-09-18T10:01:00.001-04:00

Miss me? For some reason, these past two weeks I have had a severe case of blogger's block! That, combined with TOTAL UTTER EXHAUSTION from the new job has left me drafting half-sentences each night, which by the time I return to finish them are so 48 hours ago! And seeing as life seems to be moving at the speed of light lately, well, nothing but an up to the minute post will do. So here goes:

Our FET has commenced!

Wednesday, I arrived home from work and was greeted with this:

The arrival of... our surrogate contracts!!! (Note the unseasonably bright red leaf lying next to them-- definitely a good omen!)

Yes, I said contract(s)-- once again we are going to optimize our chances by transferring to two surrogates. Funny how last time we announced this we received a WHOLE lot of "you guys are SO coming back with a baseball team." Nobody could understand how in OUR minds, we were still just praying that one would stick. Unfortunately, I think we have officially proved that we have the WORST LUCK EVER when it comes to this baby-making stuff, so yeah, we're going with two surrogates-- again.

So we received our contracts, and all along I had been anticipating that the sign-and-ship experience would be far LESS stressful than the on-location experience. Wrong. Why? Because signing an Indian contract in India is easy. Take the contract out of India, and put it on my American dining room table, and suddenly things seem a WHOLE LOT more complicated. A brief comparison of the two experiences:

On Location (in India):

Our surrogate contract signing/meeting was scheduled for 4 days prior to our egg donor's egg collection. If you recall, I had a really difficult time selecting our surrogates, and ultimately, asked Duane to select one and Dr. S to select the other. So on the day of our arranged contract signing, our cab pulls up to the clinic, and we are told that no, our signing will not take place today because Dr. S. is still contemplating changing one of our surrogates (we didn't have a cell phone so we didn't find out until we got there). Our reaction? Hmmm, what should we eat for dinner? Seriously. Not. concerned. one. bit.

Roughly 24 hours prior to our egg collection, we finally found out the identity of our second surrogate. We traveled to our clinic again and were told that this time the clinic's lawyer was stuck in traffic (imagine that-- traffic? in Delhi?) but could be available by phone if we needed him. Once again, we were totally unfazed. No problem. Who needs a lawyer present when you're signing surrogate contracts?

Sure there were a few wrenches but it was so easy not to worry in India. Amidst all the craziness and chaos of Delhi, there is an inexplicable feeling of peace. We were doing things the Indian way, and because we were in India, it just felt right.

At the Dining Room Table (in America):

Two contracts. We've done it before. Pick up the pen and sign. I can't. I've just arrived home from an incredibly long day of work where the misplacement of a comma could mean tens of thousands of dollars. A very stressful day. With quite a bit of yelling and some seriously tight deadlines. Suddenly I'm dying to whip out my red pen. Why does one of our surrogates only have one name? And why has one of our surrogate's husband's not signed yet? And why, do all the phrases that made me giggle the first time around (i.e. "we are on the look out for a surrogate") now leave me wanting to rewrite the whole darn thing? Not to mention the fact that it is 48 hours prior to our FET and from my calculations, physically impossible to have theses contracts signed, sealed and delivered before it takes place. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Deep breaths please!

I attempt to channel my inner Orange White and Green. And it's hard. Really hard. Why? Because I'm sitting at my dining room table in America! And America is NOT India. America is stress. And my job in the legal profession is stress. And placing those Indian contracts smack in the middle of my American life? Well, now those contracts equal stress as well.

For the record, there are certain villages in India where the wife goes by her husband's first name (i.e. the surrogate will not have a surname), DHL will get a package from Maryland to India in 72 hours, and our wonderful clinic is equally adept at providing assurances via email as it is in person.

Nevertheless, it just wasn't the same...

I've said it a million times since we've been home. I miss India. I miss the people, I miss the temples, and more than anything, I miss how I felt when I was there. I truly hope I get to experience it again.

I truly hope we'll have a reason to return!

Rebound Cycling

2011-09-05T22:21:00.001-04:00

Rebound cycling [v. ree-bound sahy-kling]

A rebound is an undefined period following the failure of an IVF cycle. The term's use dates to at least the 2011s, when Bernadette and Duane wrote of "nothing so easy as catching Intended Parents on the rebound". The term may also refer to a subsequent cycle that a person has during the rebound period, or to the Intended Parents in such a cycle.

Intended parents who are "on the rebound," or have recently completed an unsuccessful IVF cycle, are popularly believed to be psychologically incapable of making reasonable decisions regarding subsequent cycles due to emotional neediness, lingering feelings towards the old embryos, or unresolved problems from the previous cycle. Rebound cycles are believed to be unpredictable due to Intended Parents' emotional instability and desire to distract themselves from a painful prior cycle, and those emerging from expensive third party reproduction cycles are often advised to avoid subsequent cycles until their depleted bank accounts have been replenished.

Related verbs
1. Rebound (dating)

Hi all! Guess who's found a new love? That's right--

we are officially a couple on the rebound!

Though our hearts are mid-mend and our tears still mid-dry, we've decided to "take a chance" on our frozen embryos. We are already convinced that they are "the one(s)," and hopefully, not foolishly, falling in love. We have quickly dismissed the "what could have beens," as we revel in new thoughts of the "what will hopefully bes." And we pray that our dreams of our new long term love, are not those of distractions cloaked in disguise.

As a couple on the rebound we are gambling with our hearts and clinging to the hope that this time we will win...

Losing the Weight

2011-09-01T22:23:00.000-04:00

So I have to give myself a pat on the back for how quickly I dug myself out of the black hole called Last Week. I fell hard but I got up quicker. Could it be that I'm becoming an expert? Ughhhhhh. Really hope not. This is one area of my life in which I'd prefer to remain a novice.

Anyways, even though I am slowly seeing the light again, I am not quite feeling it yet.

Which is why I have challenged myself...

to get into the best mental shape of my life!

Yep, that's right, I said mental shape. And I'm not talking about enriching my brain by reading a book a day-- I did plenty of that in law school. What I mean, is, I am making it my mission to lose the mental weight I've acquired over the past three years and... get this...

Really Start Enjoying Life Again!

I know, sounds crazy right? What with recent events and the holidays approaching (a time when us infertility sufferers' minds are ALWAYS at their heaviest) my weight loss goal probably seems a bit lofty. But trust me, when I make my mind up that I am going to do something... I DO IT.

And while I haven't exactly fine-tuned the weight loss plan yet, I read somewhere that it helps to post motivational pictures of yourself at the weight you'd like to be. So here goes, Me at My Lightest Mental Weight Ever...

Seconds after Duane proposed to me (babies were the farthest thing from my mind)

On vacation in Disney World and actually having fun?!?! (i.e. not stressed and panicked that I am surrounded by children...thousands of them... and that I might very well be the only adult present who doesn't have any of her own)

What's that I'm drinking? Alcohol... AND... Caffeine... with no worries that I am poisoning my ovaries, increasing my risk of miscarriage or damning myself to a lonely, childless, adulthood???

Yep, those were the good old days-- back when I could go anywhere and do anything without gaining an ounce! Anyways, I realize that I may never be as light as I used to be, but you can't blame a girl for trying. Just looking at these pictures has given me some major motivation to start shedding that weight! I'll keep you posted on the progress... with a three day weekend approaching, I believe I may be off to a very good start!

Check me out-- I'm lookin' good!

2011-08-29T21:46:00.001-04:00

Hey guys! Bernadette and Duane's blog here.

I noticed last week that as Bernadette and Duane were awaiting their results, a lot of new people were checkin' me out. Naturally, I did what any attractive blog would do and updated my look with the addition of SCI's new site.

Admittedly, I'm a bit of a site snob--I ONLY wear the latest and greatest, but as soon as I tried this one on for size, I just knew it was the perfect fit! Duane and Bernadette did too. Though they are sad their past cycle didn't work, they are committed to spreading the word about surrogacy in India and in particular, one really amazing clinic.

So go ahead, check me out-- I'm sure you'll agree, I'm lookin' good!

Happy Birthday to the GREATEST Little Sister Ever!

2011-08-29T07:19:00.000-04:00

I am fortunate to have 4 sisters (2 by birth and 2 by marriage) but I am REALLY fortunate to have only 1 LITTLE sister-- else I would be in some really BIG hot water for this title.

And while this might seem like an odd place to be wishing her a happy birthday, it's not. Because just like every other aspect of my life, she is 150% supportive of my infertility. Case in point-- she is a teacher (one of those really incredible inner city teachers-- you know, the kind they make movies about), and as a result, she can't check personal websites on her computer during the day. But, because she is so invested in our journey, she has set up an email notification on her phone, so that when I post, she's always one of the first to know what's going on.

This weekend could've easily been down-right rotten. This past week I buried myself in work during the day and crashed into bed at night. I had yet to actually deal with any of the emotions that accompanied the news we received last week, and the past two days off could've quickly turned into a marathon pity party with me as the guest of honor.

And while I did spend the majority of the weekend in bed, instead of having a solo cry-fest, we spent a straight 48 hours eating cookie dough, watching my favorite movies, online shopping, and chatting about the gym classes we swore we'd attend "tomorrow."

I could tell you about how she graduated college in three years, how she's won the city's Teacher of the Year Award every year since she started teaching, how she bakes award-winning cupcakes or what a phenomenal driver she is (ok that one is a total lie), but there is one far more impotant thing that she does better than anyone else on the entire planet that's worthy of being broadcast worldwide...

SHE IS THE GREATEST LITTLE SISTER EVER!

Happy Birthday Rebecca- I love you!

We are Simply in Awe...

2011-08-27T18:16:00.005-04:00

of the blog posts, and the comments, and the emails, and the forum messages, and the poetry, and the phone calls of support....

I am an avid thank you card writer (a mediocre thank you card sender) and I wish I could write to each and every one of you-- telling you how much your words have meant to us, how they have uplifted us in a way that would have taken months on our own, how they have been instrumental in allowing us to begin to heal.

These words, they came from ALL AROUND THE WORLD, and as individual thank yous are next to impossible, I hope that you will read this and know that we are speaking to EVERY ONE OF YOU and that we THANK YOU from the bottom of our hearts.

I have written before about how the 1s in this world seem to be disproportionally composed of ready-made parents with oversized hearts.

I have written before about this extraordinary community of international surrogacy bloggers.

I have written before about the exceptional family I have been blessed with.

And I have written before about how fortunate we feel to have found Dr. Shivani and the entire SCI team.

And now, my words, they have officially been validated.

We fell hard this time. Harder than we ever have. And it hurt SO BAD. And it STILL HURTS-- A LOT. And it will for a very long time.

And I am not sure that we will ever fall this hard again. Because I am not sure that we will ever allow ourselves to believe, to hope, to open ourselves up to the possibility of such immense hurt again.

We will revert to guarding our hearts, as so many of us have done after losses, after failed cycles, after results that have completely defied the odds... again.

And while we wish it weren't this way, we have learned that as members of such a unique community,

we are privileged to ride on the coattails of the faith of others.

Maybe we won't be able to believe again, but maybe, we will be able to move on regardless.

Maybe we will rely on the words of Dr. Shivani who has "guaranteed I will be a mummy in 2012." Or maybe on the words of Rahul, who has assured us that "people who do not get a success on the first attempt, they definitely get a success in the second attempt."

While we have a hard time believing these words ourselves, maybe, they will suffice to propel us forward until we reach our goal. And maybe, with our forward momentum, those who contacted us, pleading with us to move forward because they had become so dependent on our journey to move their own journey forward, will grab on to the coattails of our mock faith, and together we will continue forward... until we ALL achieve our goal of becoming the parents we know we were meant to be.

Because once was definitely not enough...

THANK YOU AGAIN TO EVERYONE.

It Never Occured to Us that It Wouldn't Work...

2011-08-25T22:03:00.001-04:00

We left India with renewed spirits, the happiest we had been since our wedding day because...

it never occurred to us that it wouldn't work

We risked the rest of the baby fund, and traveled, literally, half away around the world because...

it never occurred to us that it wouldn't work

This weekend I attended my first "kid-centered" event in the past two years, feeling none of the usual anxiety and awkwardness when the moms talked their upcoming back to school talk because...

it never occurred to me that it wouldn't work

And we even decided on a "new" favorite girl name (which is hard to do when you have already devoted so many to past cycles) because...

it never occurred to us that it wouldn't work

We chatted about our parents going with us for pick up, about Rahul purchasing a bigger car, about how many babies there would be.... because

it never occurred to us that there would be zero

And I can vividly recall two months ago, calling my mother on the phone, breaking down in tears, having a rare moment of panic, that we would be that one couple that it wouldn't work for, and she assured me that we wouldn't and told me to look on Dr. Shivani's blog, look at all the couples who had recently gotten pregnant... and I did, and I realized that everyone in blogland was finding success, and I was never again fearful because...

it never occurred to me that it wouldn't work

And now I am hating that I have started this blog, that I have adorned my walls with pictures of our trip, that I have set up a Shiva shrine, that I have surrounded with myself with constant reminders that

IT DIDN'T WORK

And every day my coworkers ask if "I'm sure I'm alright because I look really terrible" and I laugh a fake laugh and say that I am just adjusting to life as a new associate because they wouldn't believe me if I even told them this tale with the horrible ending about how

IT DIDN'T WORK

And I am mean and short and refusing to return phone calls because I am so unbelievably angry that

IT DIDN'T WORK

And I have reached new depths of sadness, exhibited not by simple tears, but by uncontrollable breathless sobs as I utter the words over and over again that I WILL NEVER BE A MOM because after so much planning, and so much money, and every tiny speck of faith and hope that I could possibly muster up after so many previous failures

IT DIDN'T WORK

8 grade 1 embryos, 2 surrogates, a now total of 6 donor egg cycles, and unbelievably...

IT DIDN'T WORK

The 156 Week Wait

2011-08-21T21:53:00.001-04:00

I'm waiting...

But honestly, calling it a TWO WEEK wait? A bit misleading, don't you think? Chances are, if you've been in the game long enough to use the phrase... then you've been in the game a lot longer than two weeks.

And with this month being our 3 year inferversary, my best guesstimate is that we are currently in our 156 week wait. If that sounds like a long wait, it's because it has been a long wait. Too long. Much too long. WE ARE SO READY FOR SOME POSITIVE NEWS!

In order the curb the nail biting, we spent the past week with all of our favorites...

The youngest of the nieces and nephews. Our littlest nephew has already warned us that he will not tolerate another girl.

The whole crew... what a good looking bunch

Helping my amazing "Teacher of Year" younger sister set up her first grade classroom

Baltimore's version of Connaught Place-- the Farmer's Market

And now for the upcoming week???

MUCH, MUCH, MUCH further down on the fun-o-meter... I return to work.

After a two month hiatus studying for the bar exam, followed by a two week trip to India, followed by an amazing week of R & R as illustrated above... the time has finally come.

And don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be returning to a fantastic firm and to of course, be getting paid again, it's just that I've applied SO MANY times for one of those stay-at-home-mom positions, and for some reason, I always get rejected.

Ah well, cheers to some resume-boosting news this week; in the meantime... I'll be waiting.

Hey International Surrogacy Bloggers... Keep on Writing!

2011-08-17T11:04:00.002-04:00

Upon returning home from India, I was shocked, saddened and a little sick when I heard about the Theresa Erickson Scandal. For my international blogging buddies who might not be familiar with it, in sum, a very prominent reproductive attorney rocked the infertility world by admitting her involvement in an international baby-selling ring.

I believe infertility blogging guru Lollipop Goldstein said it best with respect to how the community as a whole has been feeling since news of the scandal hit the press.

And while I couldn't agree more, it got me thinking about what exactly this means for our tiny little niche within the community-- those of us who have "chosen" (and I use this word loosely because nobody ever "chooses" infertility) to pursue international surrogacy.

On the one hand, it's obvious that we fare a bit worse. The already beaten and battered image of international surrogacy has suffered yet another punch to the gut, conveniently, at a time, when public perception seems to just barely be making its way out of the gutter. (A recent episode of the View illustrates this, as a consultant clearly bites his tongue when asked about Indian surrogacy-- refusing to say anything negative, just that in his opinion, U.S. surrogacy is safer. By the way, if you're planning on watching, fast forward through the Alexis Stewart portion-- her b*&#!y comments will make you want to throw up. Way to represent the IPs, A.S.!)

On the other hand, however, it appears we fare a bit better. The core reaction of the infertility community has been this-- how, when we are so reliant on field professionals to guide us through this godawful maze of infertility, will we ever be able to trust again, when we have been betrayed by someone who wore every badge in the book-- one, who so many looked to as a respected industry leader?

Frankly, as an international IP, I'm not sure I'm experiencing these feelings of distrust.

Because frankly, like most international IPs, I never had any "professional" support to begin with.

How many of us were shown the door when we approached our local medical professionals for testing and support? How many of us were unable to locate an attorney who was willing to put his stamp on an international surrogacy contract? How many of us have approached this whole damn thing with a feather in the wind attitude and a heck of a lot of faith?

I think, it's fair to say, a clear majority.

And yet, at the same time, while we are seriously lacking in the professional support department, we are simply BURSTING when it comes to peer support.

Since returning from India, my blogger email has been flooded with queries from intended parents. This morning, I spent a good hour and a half, answering questions and lending support. Not because I am getting paid, not because I am obligated to, but simply, because it makes me feel good!

Who has been there for me when I've had questions? For my mini-meltdowns? For my major freak-outs? Certainly not some "trusted" local professional.

No, those "trusted" advisors who I've relied so heavily on, have come in the form of my blogging peers.

Those, who have completed their journey, and are juggling (often multiple) little peanuts... but who still make time to write. Those, who are in the midst of their journey, racing around like madmen, trying to coordinate travel plans and work enough hours to pay the surrogacy bills... but who still make time to write. Those, who are contemplating embarking on the journey, and are filled with fear and anxiety... but who have put on a brave face and made the time to write.

So to all my international surrogacy bloggers... thank you for your unending support and please, keep on writing!

And to one particular blogger, whose story we have followed since first contemplating this journey, who, despite continual set backs never gave up on her dream of having a family, and who, is a true inspiration in every sense of the word...

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR BABY GIRL!!!

Things About India That...

2011-08-15T09:45:00.001-04:00

We Miss...

Rahul- There is a reason he is number one on my list. Rahul, beloved driver/tour guide/Indian historian/friend played such a critical part in making our trip SO ENJOYABLE! And we are not just saying this because he continually showered us with compliments regarding our "pretty blue eyes" and "nice smiles." (Of course who wouldn't enjoy such constant flattery?!?) He runs a first-class car service and if you are coming to Delhi any time soon, he is the one thing you absolutely cannot miss! Punctual, polite and funny to boot, we are missing him dearly since arriving home.

Sad that we didn't get a proper picture, but I noticed that in this one of India Gate, I've captured a glimpse of him in the rear view mirror!

The Chaos- Granted, of all things in Delhi it's the hardest to get used to. But once you've acquired the taste, I believe it's quite addictive. Upon waking our first morning at home, we couldn't get over the eeriness of the quiet. I considered getting into my car and leaning on the horn for a few minutes-- just for old times sake.

Feeling Royal- Longing for a dose of the royal treatment? Take a trip to Delhi. From the personal door openers to the shopkeepers serving us drinks as we browsed, Delhi gives new meaning to the words "customer service." Also, not to be forgotten-- the "Indian Paparazzi Children" leaping out of crowds and swiftly snapping our pictures. This, totally cracked us up.

We Do Not Miss

Eating McDonalds... every day- As I mentioned before, Duane has a fatal allergy to tree nuts, coconuts, and most anything with a variation of the word "nut" in it. While it's a chore keeping him alive on our own turf, attempting to explain the allergy, its serious nature, and the possible consequences of cross contamination is next to impossible in a foreign country. We knew McDonalds was a safe bet and as a result, ate there once, twice, sometimes three times a day... for eight long days in a row. By the end of the trip, we were beginning to feel as if we were secretly starring in SuperSize Me 2: Duane and Bernadette Take India.

Humidity- Certain that the phrase "bad hair day" originated in Delhi.

Pollution- When we arrived at Newark Liberty International Airport, Duane took a long deep breath and said, "Mmmmm, fresh air!" It is doubtful these words have ever been uttered in Newark, but when you are arriving fresh from Delhi, it's all relative.

Made Us Laugh

Security- With Independence Day approaching on the 15th, security was heightened all around Delhi. Our hotel was attached to a mall, which meant that often times to move 100 feet, we had to walk through several metal detectors. Upon passing through the detectors, the detectors would always beep, signaling that yes, metal had been detected. Nevertheless, despite the signal, we were then just smiled at and waved on through. Perhaps they were going for more of a "deterrence" plan?

Being Too Big- Duane happens to be 6 ft. 3 in. In the US, this makes him pretty tall. In India, this makes him a giant. We giggled as we walked through Connaught Place and all the vendors yelled out "We have big! We have big!" But we died laughing when Duane got a massage and was instructed to dawn the below garment!

Other Stuff - I am saving the following pictures, should our children ever complain about yard work, taking out the trash, or ever having to engage in any sort of manual labor...

Recycling Day

Delhi's resident gas and electric crew

Raking leaves with a straw broom...

Made Us Cry

Everything- boarding the plane to Delhi, landing in Delhi, waking our first morning in Delhi, visiting SCI for our first appointment, visiting SCI for our last appointment, the temples, the street children, meeting our surrogate, the email describing our fantastic egg retrieval, meeting one week old Isabella, phoning our families and hearing their supportive words, boarding the plane home, landing in Newark, when Rahul called to tell Duane he will miss him very much...

In sum... the entire trip.

Never have the tears flowed so freely, and we are so grateful for such an amazing experience! Best wishes to all those who are considering embarking on a similar one. We know the fear that accompanies sending that first wire, but we can assure you that we haven't the slightest regret...

And Now for the Good Stuff...

2011-08-10T07:13:00.000-04:00

We are busy packing for our long flight home but just wanted to share a quick update...
Last night we received a fantastic email that Dr. S retreived 27 eggs, 25 ICSI'd, 23 mature! We are over the moon excited and feeling so positive that we are off to a good start!

Best wishes to Jill and Alex for their simultaneous great news!

And to Kerrie and Mark, you know whose blog I will be checking the minute we land!

And finally, to Dr. Shivani and the SCI team...

THANK YOU

... for the trip of a lifetime!

Indian Blessings

2011-08-09T00:03:00.002-04:00

We are feeling good! Another wonderful day full of blessings...

Blessing Number One: Getting to hold the tiny beauty below, one of SCI's newest August babies. While we have blog-followed and emailed and waiting-room chatted with so many of our clinic's other clients, getting to hold her in my arms made it all so real.

She is just perfect, and after a lovely date with our newest Australian friends, we had a renewed sense of confidence that
despite
all the tears,
and all the stress, and
all the uncertainty of it all,
THIS PROCESS DOES WORK AND IT WILL ALL BE WORTH IT IN THE END!

Congratulations and thank you for this blessing!

Blessing Number Two: Visiting Birla Temple. It's official, my favorite sites in Delhi are most definitely the temples. I continue to be captivated by the stunning architecture, the glorious music, and overwhelming feelings of peace and calm. Also, it just kind of amuses me to think that I am walking around outside in India in bare feet (although the temple floors are pristine).

I've also developed an addiction to donating to the gods that rivals Duane's donations to the streets; thankfully, we are each supportive of each others' quests. After donating to both Shiva and Ganesh, we were blessed with good luck twice, though we cannot figure out whether the former resulted in the latter-- probably. Nevertheless, we were the only foreigners to be blessed, and I must say, that those marks on our foreheads certainly elevated our status amongst the natives. When we returned to pick up our shoes from the "foreigners area" we were given free souvenirs-- and trust me, nothing in India is ever free-- and greeted with remarks that "we must be very good people." We received similar comments from other Indians for the remainder of the day.

Birla Temple (still trying to figure out how to upload my video which captures the magnificent sounds)

Blessed with good luck

We are hopeful that the luck remains with us (guess who has refused to wash her forehead for the last 24 hours) as our egg retrieval will be this evening! Stay tuned for updates regarding the grand finale of our trip!

Delhi in Pictures

2011-08-07T10:53:00.002-04:00

The Story of Humayun's Tomb (as told to us by Lok, a supposed retired history teacher who was "hanging out" by the entrance): Humayun was a drunk and a horribly lazy man. One day, he was climbing the stairs to pray, and in his usual state, tripped and fell to his death. His wife had the monument built in his honor. Frankly, we prefer this type of storytelling to any prerecorded audio guide-- whether the stories are accurate or not. For his time, he asked Duane to simply exchange him INR for $3 USD. Duane handed him INR greater than the equivalent of $3 USD. He says to Duane, "Sir, I am sorry, but I cannot owe you." Did he really think we were going to come back later for change? Duane explained that it was simply a "tip" and Lok thanked us profusely multiple times. To Lok, thank YOU for yet another tiny India memory.

Who needs a gym when you spend your days exploring ancient Indian monuments in the Delhi heat?

My all time favorite picture. It is very common and entirely legal in India-- entire families, often with infants and children much younger than this, crowded onto one motorbike. However, what makes it funny, is that a man in back of this bike, who was driving a car, had just been pulled over for failing to wear his seat belt!

Qutub Minar: A stunning complex of of ancient Islamic architecture. I began to realize, however, that with SO many monuments, we would never be able to recall which was which in pictures. As a result, I started making hand gestures in front of them. A brilliant idea if I do say so myself. This, clearly, was the Sun Temple.

Our favorite little girl. Duane, with his big heart, finds it impossible to say no to the children. While he realizes that the money he gives them is unfortunately, not likely going to them, he simply cannot refuse. Anyways, he usually pulls whatever spare change he has in his pocket and hands it over. This little girl, however, set a firm price, and rejected his initial offer! She drove a hard bargain and followed us, persistently but not annoyingly, all around Old Delhi-- holding firm to her price. Guess who won in the end?

Lotus Temple: This exterior picture does it no justice. Unfortunately, cameras are not allowed inside. One of my absolute favorite sites-- the interior is simply stunning. After removing your shoes, you are allowed inside to sit on the marble pews and listen to the magnificent chanting and prayers. Between the chanting and the background music of tweeting birds flying around the dome, I cried the entire time. It was simply, that beautiful.

Akshardam Temple: A different type of beauty than Lotus Temple. While Lotus Temple appeals to the ears above all, Arkshardam appeals to the eyes. Again, we were not allowed to take cameras in, so this is the best I could do from the parking lot. The architecture is magnificent and within the temple are several murtis of Hindu deities. It was a sweltering day and after our tour of the temple, Duane asked for some rupees to buy water. Oops! "Someone" had already donated them all as offerings to the Gods. (Don't worry, he will thank me later. With our egg retrieval on Tuesday, what could be more important than keeping the Hindu Gods happy?)

Delhi Haat: I bargained hard for a duvet cover and some pillow cases and in exchange promised Nissar some free internet advertising. Always one to keep a promise, here he is with his beautiful embroidered silk goods. Stop by if you will be in Delhi in the immediate future-- apparently, the vendors change every 15 days.

Old Delhi: Typical transportation-- tuk tuks and rickshaws

Old Delhi: Shoe shine anyone? Not exactly sure how well business is going for them. Barefoot and sandals are pretty much the norm here... I've yet to see very many shine-worthy shoes.

Trains, Planes and Feeling Home

2011-08-06T01:47:00.000-04:00

"We are here!! Finally it is becoming a reality! Finally we will be parents, I know it!"

The first line of the most cherished letter I have ever received. A letter, written by Duane to me, on our first night in Delhi, as I slept, and as he tried desperately to preserve on paper, the emotions he had been feeling for the past 24 hours. It is beautifully written and I cannot wait to share it with our children some day. Never has something so small meant something so big.

And I am truly envious of his ability to capture the magic of this journey on paper (perhaps he should take over the blog-posting for the week)?

I, for one, am finding it impossible to write about something so much bigger than words.

Last night, I purchased a journal so that I can record the details of each tiny experience here in India. As these experiences tend to evoke feelings that are often too raw and overwhelming to be put into words, let alone sentences, I apologize in advance for the rather "surface" blog coverage of our trip. Once home, I will do my best to reconstruct the details, but as it is an impossible task at the moment, I hope that for now, you will enjoy the "guide-book" version of our trip thus far...

It all started 2 or 3 days ago-- I haven't a clue at this point, but thankfully, this morning, feel that I am finally beginning to recover from the jet lag. Our first stop was Baltimore Penn Station. A huge thanks to our amazing brother-in-law a/k/a resident house/dog sitter for the week for the first class chauffeur service ...

From there we arrived in "lovely" Newark. No need for a sign announcing our arrival-- a "friendly" shove and a snide remark by two fellow passengers let me know that we had most definitely arrived at our destination.

Just enough time to stop for a "last meal" -- hamburgers of course...

After which we snuggled in for a "brief" 15 1/2 hour plane ride...

The plane ride was uneventful-- thankfully, more on this later-- and we finally arrived at Svelte Hotel, our home away from home for the week.

We are loving our accommodations and the service all across India is unmatched. We tend to find that everywhere we go, there are about ten too many workers. And while its impossible to imagine that the businesses are actually making any sort of profit, it sure makes for some impeccable service.

Our hotel is connected to a mall, the same as any we would find back home. It has all the latest brand shops, a movie theatre and several big chain restaurants-- Subway, McDonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut, TGIFriday's.

So far, we have played it safe with the food-- sticking to the above list of restaurants and the fantastic breakfast at our hotel. Boring, I know, but because Duane has a fatal allergy to tree nuts, and because we really need him to stick around (at least until Tuesday) we are religiously adhering to foods which we have eaten before and can pretty much be assured, do not contain any traces of nuts. Of course, in India, even our most well known staples have a twist. McPaneer anyone?

Finally, we had our first meeting with Dr. Shivani yesterday. The clinic is impressive and the SCI team members are just as lovely and pleasant in person as they are via email. We received good news that our expected egg retrieval will be around 25 eggs. Today, we will return to sign our surrogate contracts.

If asked to describe the last 48 hours in one word it would have to be surreal.

Here we are, half way around the world, in a country whose exact location I (embarrassingly) had to look up when I first read about surrogacy in India, and yet... we feel so at home.

It is very difficult to explain, but it continually makes me think of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. It's as if these past three years, I've been wandering around, wearing the ruby slippers, and finally, I have figured out how to get home. Only home, is India. The place, where all along, we were meant to build our family. I didn't know it at the start, and the brick road may have been agonizingly long, but finally, we have found "home." In the words of my husband:

"We are here!! Finally it is becoming a reality! Finally we will be parents, I know it!"

"Sometimes Better When Others Pick For You"

2011-08-01T18:45:00.005-04:00

We received our surrogate profiles today!!!

And I almost had a total meltdown...

Selecting a surrogate in India is a bit different than selecting a surrogate in the United States. In the United States you essentially have 3 options for choosing a surrogate: 1) Use an agency (note that for the same price you could, in the alternative, purchase a second home ), 2) set up an online profile on a surrogate matching website (think match.com with profiles centering around menstrual cycle history-- yes, it's a bit awkward, but I did it, and it works), or 3) find someone you know who is willing to carry altruistically and promise them a middle namesake or possibly, a guaranteed spot in the godparent pool (unfortunately, these types tend to be few and far between).

In India, however, at least at our clinic, potential surrogates rotate on a monthly basis, and about 7-8 days prior to an intended mother or egg donor's egg retrieval (i.e. today for me), intended parents are sent about six surrogate profiles whose cycles are the best match. They are then asked to select one or two, or have the option of leaving it up to the doctor.

So I woke up this morning, checked my email, and as soon as I saw the subject line "surrogate profiles" I was suddenly paralyzed with fear. I couldn't understand it. I had made the enormous decision to pursue surrogacy. I had made the brave decision to pursue surrogacy in India. And I had easily made the decision as to who would provide half of our child's genetics in less than 24 hours.

What was it about making this final decision that horrified me? Why, when I attempted to click the download button to view the profiles, did my finger remain frozen in midair?

Naturally, I did what any person making a major life decision would do-- I went to a get a pedicure.

So I get to the nail salon and the first thing the nail tech says to me in typical Vietnamese nail salon fashion is: "Pick a color." I stare blankly at the rows and rows of polish bottles lined neatly up against the wall.

Suddenly, my heart starts racing.

Do I go with the half empty bottle of mauve polish? It doesn't stand out against the rest of the bottles, yet it's clear that others have liked it in the past. And while it's certainly a more serious looking color, maybe that's the look I should be going for.

Or do I take a chance on the never opened bright fuchsia polish? It's young and it's fun and it certainly stands out. But is there a reason nobody has selected it before? Should I be the first to give it a chance?

Noticing that I am about two seconds away from tears, vomiting, or both, the nail lady kindly looks at me and states in her broken English, "Not to worry. I pick for you."

And I am SO relieved. Because, sometimes, as hard as it is for me to do, I need to let go of my inner control freak.

Sometimes, I just need to allow others to make decisions for me.

Sometimes, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and having had so many pedicures in the past, it was quite possible that I could have stood analyzing the pros and cons of each color for days... and never actually come to a decision.

And then there was the other reason that is a little harder to admit. I had already made so many decisions leading up to this one. I had made the decision to get a pedicure. I had the made the decision as to what nail salon I would go to. And now, if I was the one to select the color, the outcome would be completely dependent upon decisions made solely by me.

What if, after having selected a color, the pedicure didn't turn out the way I was hoping it would? Would I beat myself up for selecting the wrong color? Would I spend hours agonizing over how it might possibly have turned out... if only I had selected a different color?

I realized that by allowing someone else to choose, I was possibly relieving myself of the burden of some very difficult questions later on. And I realized that this was ok.

Coincidentally, the pedicure turned out beautifully.

Afterwards, I went home to call Duane, to let him know that I was forwarding him the surrogate profiles.

And as I forwarded the profiles, I recalled the nail tech's words as I was about to leave the salon. "See, so beautiful," she says to me,

"sometimes better when others pick for you."

Yes, indeed, sometimes it is.

Ready or Not, India Here We Come!

2011-07-31T00:00:00.002-04:00

T minus 3 days until we depart for India!

I've spent the past few days packing, unpacking, repacking... and drinking wine!

In all honesty, this whole traveling to India for fertility treatment thing is just a tiny bit more stressful than I anticipated. (Or else I have just completely forgotten how stressful it is to undergo treatment anywhere in the world.) Serving as a reminder is the below picture:

Note the waist-high snow, the lack of any visible driving surface, and the complete absence of snow plows. 'Twas the night before my first ever IVF transfer and coincidentally, the night of a historic Nor'easter.

Do not be fooled by my smile. I was, to put it mildly, completely freaking out! Duane and my two brother-in-laws (who had graciously spent the night in anticipation of this storm) were frantically shoveling the driveway so that we could make it out onto the unplowed street, which was located (under normal weather conditions) a good 2 1/2 hours from my out of state fertility clinic. My fresh embryos had roughly another 12 hours to go before they would need to be frozen and the chances of us making it anywhere were lookin' mighty slim.

Nevertheless, WE MADE IT.

Lesson learned. When it comes to building our family, we cannot be stopped! Regardless of whether we have to travel 70 miles or 7000 miles, no obstacle will be too great for us to overcome.

I need to keep this in mind as all of the "what-ifs" slowly start to creep into my head.

I need to KNOW that we WILL have a family.

I need to have FAITH that because of our unending DETERMINATION we will be SUCCESSFUL in India.

And I need to have CONFIDENCE that we have chosen the right road to build our family.

I am, at the moment, working on all of the above.

Because ready or not... India here we come!!!

"We're Headed for Venus and Still We Stand Tall"

2011-07-15T11:45:00.003-04:00

The official numbers:

11 days until Bar Exam Day 1

12 days until Bar Exam Day 2

19 days until we depart for India

20 days until we arrive in India

21 days until we meet the great Dr. S. herself

23-27ish days until our egg retrieval and transfer

As would be expected, I am full of excitement, hope, anxiety, fear and about a million other emotions at the moment. On one hand, my clinic and the ever popular Barbri bar review course have practically spoon-fed me everything I could possibly need to know. On the other hand, I haven't a clue how it's all going to pan out. Ladies and gentleman:

" We're headed for Venus and still we stand tall."

P.S. Per the instructions of my $4000 bar review course, it is advised that I spend this last week before the exam "studying." I know, money well spent. Anyways, because I don't ever plan on spending a second summer locked away studying in a windowless room I've decided to heed the advice. So, apologies in advance for my blogging hiatus until July 28th. (Promise to make up for it with all kinds of exciting India-related news during the weeks to follow.)

I'd Choose Them...

2011-07-05T08:41:00.002-04:00

You know the old adage "you can choose your friends but you can't choose your family?" Well let me tell you, whoever came up with it, clearly never had a family like mine. They are THE BEST, most supportive, fun-loving group of individuals you could ever meet. And if I had been given a choice? I, hands-down, most definitely, no questions ask, would absolutely positively have chosen the one I've got. As you can see, I had an absolute blast spending the holiday weekend with them!

Supportive sisters!

Trying her aunt's shoes on for size!

Dad being too funny (and subtly poking fun at the fact that his daughters are a bit furry-friend obsessed).

Beautiful night at the Inner Harbor with my beautiful lil sis.

Posing for their next album cover.

All the Cool Girls From High School Got Fat So Why am I Still Jealous

2011-06-24T07:41:00.003-04:00

...the title of my future book, should I ever decide to recapture the highlights of this crappy chapter of my life.

Yesterday, as I was avoiding yet another set of practice bar exam questions, I decided to peruse Facebook. Much to my later regret, I discovered a slide show album posted by someone from my high school years. An album filled with pictures of the "IT" girl who had naturally ended up marrying the "IT" guy, surrounded by all of her former "IT" sidekicks--- who she is of course still friends with, because, hey, it's tough to find others later on life who will worship you quite like the Homecoming Queen that you used to be. (Too mean? Sorry, just having a bad week).

So I see the cover photo and in my head I'm shouting "Nooooooo, don't do it. Don't click the play button." But I can't resist. I just. can't. help. myself. And of course, as soon as I do it, I'm regretting it. It's horrible. Vomit-inducing. Worse than I could have ever imagined. But I can't stop. It's like throwing money into a slot machine. You know you're losing, and you're sick to your stomach that you keep tossing in coin after coin, but in the back of your mind you're hoping, that maybe, just maybe, this time you'll win. No such luck. Every. single. photo. IT girl after IT girl. Pregnant. One more coin. Baby on hip. Just one more coin. Gleefully chasing after a toddler. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Furiously dumping every last coin into the machine. Happy family of three--of four--of five!?!

I'm done. I lose. End of album. All 200-stinking-7 photos. Not a single IT girl sans baby. Not a SINGLE one. Sure they got "fat", but ironically, the joke is on me. Why didn't anyone ever tell me that it's COOL to get "fat" after 25?

WHY THEM AND WHY NOT ME?!?!? Why, when there was a 1 in 8 chance that I'd get stuck with this lousy, no good disease, couldn't I be a #2-7? Why, how, for what reason, did I get stuck being the stinkin' #1? And for that matter, why does it seem that ALL the other #1s I've ever met happen to be really awesomely amazing people who deserve to have children more than anyone else on this planet?

It's a question I believe everyone who suffers from infertility struggles to wrap their head around. Why not the deadbeat dad who fails to pay his child support? Why not the careless teenager who "accidentally" gets pregnant-- more than once? Why not the abusive parents? Why not the IT couples who already had their shining moments in high school? WHY ME???

And unfortunately, it's a question I can't answer. The bottom line is, it just sucks. I loathe the word "infertile." It's composed of so many disgusting emotions-- anger, jealousy, sadness, spite. And don't get me wrong, I wouldn't wish this disease on anyone-- even my worst high school nemesis. It's just that this particular week, I happen to be feeling particularly "infertile." Not sure if it was a combination of Father's Day and our anniversary being this week-- which to the average couple would be a five star week but to the couple struggling with infertility is a double whammy reminder of another year gone by with no family-- but it just seemed to suck with a capital S.

So cheers to a happy Friday, a better weekend, and a far less "infertile" week next week-- because if there is one thing us infertiles do better than anyone, it's change our moods in the blink of an eye;)

Almost-Dad Shoes

2011-06-19T22:04:00.003-04:00

I have come to realize that as a couple living with infertility, above all, we are most fearful of never getting to experience the "little" joys of parenthood. We have never once uttered that we are scared we will never get to attend high school graduations, that Duane will never get to walk a daughter down the aisle, that we will miss out on trips to Disney World (ok, maybe Duane has mentioned the Disney World thing once or twice-- but primarily because kids or no kids, he just really wants to go). Rather, our conversations have always centered around what Saturday morning cartoons we'll watch, what snacks I'll pack in my "mom" cooler for the pool, whether our Christmas day wake-up rule will be a strict 7:00 a.m. or whether it'll be a free for all anytime after 5. Yes, what we long for most are the "little" joys of parenthood.

One of the very first "little" joys Duane ever shared with me, was how he couldn't wait to wear "Dad Docksiders," accompanied, of course, by hiked up white sneaker socks. Naturally I knew exactly what he was talking about-- much to "teenage Bernadette's" dismay, her own father had always thought the same ensemble quite fashionable.

Since then, I've continued to have a recurring visual. Us, at the hospital, holding our new baby, and me, handing him a gift wrapped box containing a brand new pair of Sperry Docksiders with matching calf-length white sneaker socks. It's a lovely image that I can't help but hope will someday become a reality.

This Father's Day I wanted to do something special for Duane. For him, fatherhood has started long before the birth of our children. The sleepless anxiety-ridden nights, the exorbitant health bills, the seven day work week to ensure financial security. Darn if he doesn't deserve those Docksiders now--yesterday--three years ago, when we first started this journey, and he showed me that regardless of the outcome, he would always be by my side, and that no matter how we built our family, he would be the best damn father in the world.

I considered giving him those Docksiders today, but ultimately decided that no, I would wait, because there will come a day when we are holding our child, and we will have that special moment. (Plus, I knew that Carlos (our dog) would never fully be able to appreciate the embarrassing-Dad-effect those hiked up white socks have.)

Rather, I decided to give Duane Almost-Dad shoes; shoes appropriate for the point at which we find ourselves in our journey. Shoes, appropriate, for India. While we used to continually wish to skip right to the "end" of our story-- you know, the part where we finally have a child-- choosing to go to India, has given us a newfound appreciation for everything we would have missed out on had we gone the standard one too many glasses of wine-positive pregnancy test-nine months later baby route. It is fair to say that we never would have made plans to travel to India, that we never would have come into contact with our incredible online surro-family and the lovely Team SCI, and that the bond between Duane and I might never have become so strong, so unbreakable, so unyielding to the challenges that we have been and will continue to be thrown as a couple. As the richness of this experience begins to unfold, we are already finding it impossible to imagine that had we been given a choice of how we wanted to build our family, we would have chosen any other way.

So without further ado, I present to you, a picture of Duane's newest pair of Almost-Dad shoes-- Keen's water shoes, highly recommended by all of our online surro-family as the "It" shoe for travel during India's monsoon season. Rest assured they are equally (if not more) unfashionable than the Docksiders and as an added bonus can be worn with or without hiked up white sneaker socks.

To all the Dads, the Dad-To-Bes, and the Almost-Dads so patiently waiting their turn, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO YOU!!!

Warding Off the Bad Apples

2011-06-17T08:19:00.001-04:00

In preparation for Project India, Duane and I took a trip to our physician's office today. While our original intent was to simply stock up on prescription refills, upon revealing that we would be traveling to India, my doctor suggested a slew of shots.

Now you have to understand, I am not a fan of shots. Nothing to do with the pain-- I mean really, after 4 IVF cycles? I laugh in the face of syringes. And nothing to do with the whole vaccines-are-dangerous-so-I'm- taking-my-kid-to-a-chicken-pox-party-to-expose-them-the-natural-way campaign. No, rest assured that any future children of mine will be receiving all their vaccines, and that they will receive them the good old fashioned way-- with a stick in the arm and a Sesame Street band-aid.

Rather, I just always tend to be that <1% that has the adverse, allergic reaction, or that ends up feeling deathly ill for an entire month afterward, when, likely, I would never have gotten sick in the first place. So as a result, I steer clear of the needle-- so long as it can be avoided.

Anyways, after a bit of cajoling, my doctor persuaded me to at least get a Hepatitis A shot. He explained that it is not a live vaccine-- less chance of an adverse reaction-- and that it will protect me from bad fruit. "All bad fruit?" I asked. "Well, yes, for the most part," he said. I finally agreed, and after getting the shot, decided that I would test it out. "Would you like to know why we're going to India?" I asked. "Well sure," he said. So I launched into a brief synopsis of how we had gotten to the point we were at and what exactly we would be doing on our "business/leisure" trip. I waited for his reply. "Well that's fantastic!" he said. Hmmm, a much different response than the one from our fertility clinic. I decided to give it another go. When the nurse came in to give me my prescriptions, I told her about our plans as well. "Oh wow, that's wonderful. Best of luck to you guys," she replied.

Who hoo! It was working! It was warding off all the bad apples! Nice. Now if only I'd had the foresight to get it one month earlier...

Finding Faith

2011-06-12T19:24:00.001-04:00

I had my first pre-bar exam panic attack this weekend. Surprisingly, not over of my complete inability to grasp the elusive Rule of Perpetuities, my lack of sleep, nor the girl sitting next to me in bar prep class with a mile high stack of flashcards on subjects that I haven't even considered studying. Rather, it was induced by the class lecturer's first tip of the day: Pray for hard questions.

Oblivious to the nonsensical nature of the advice, I was stuck on that very first word-- pray. While I knew that studying for the bar would entail a lot of hardwork, a lot of sacrifice, and a lot of the same misery that accompanied my first year of law school, I did not, under any circumstances, expect that it would require me to address my recent struggle with faith-- a task that I have increasingly avoided since being diagnosed with infertility.

When I first announced my infertility to the world, I was inundated with well-meaning comments that while at first provided comfort, over time began to haunt me. Again and again I heard: "If it's meant to happen it will happen," "I'm sure you two will be blessed with children when the time is right," "It's all in God's time," "Have faith in His plan." Eventually, after several losses and failed fertility treatments, my Catholic guilt began to set in. Had I done something to deserve this? Could it be that I wasn't really meant to be a mom? Was this REALLY His plan???

Desperate for answers, I began to do a little research. Not surprisingly, I discovered that the leaders of MY religion-- the one I had faithfully adhered to for twenty-something years, complete with church attendance not just once but twice a week (atleast when I was enrolled in Catholic school)-- had publicly denounced IVF. Well, sheesh, no wonder nobody up THERE seemed to be listening to my daily pleas of desparation. Here I was, sinning it up in the worst of ways (I mean, not only was I undergoing IVF but I was using "borrowed" genetic materials from third parties) and meanwhile, hoping that my prayers would result in the success of this condemned procedure.

Following the above revelation I was understandably angry. I wouldn't go so far as to say that me and the ole' religion went through a complete break-up. It's more like we've been on a "temporary break." But the truth is, that like it or not, both this pesky impending exam, and more importantly, Project India, are going to require a heck of a lot of faith. So I guess what better time than now to start with the fence mending?

And while I don't know that I'll be marching through the Catholic church doors any time soon-- as you know from prior posts I take it quite personally when others denounce my family building choices-- I am going to make an effort to find a church that not only embraces me, but also my future family, and its incredibly unique origins.

Oops, one more thing: Clearly the above line was meant to be the last in a slightly-longish post. However, just as I was about to publish it, I discovered Edward of Faith to Vishwas' most recent post, describing the amazing church where his girls will be baptized. In case I wasn't clear, that's exactly what I am looking for! Hmmm, I wonder if Duane would be up for a four hour one-way commute every Sunday morning? Ok, maybe not. But thanks for the confidence that these churches do exist and for giving me faith that I will find one too!

We're Feelin' the Heat

2011-06-09T22:17:00.000-04:00

...to start making plans for our first trip to India! A quick glance at my dashboard today served as a reminder that we will be traveling to Delhi in less than two months! Off to a land where 100 degree heat is for amateurs. Or rather, it's for Americans, since we seem to be the only country still measuring our temperature in Fahrenheit.

Ah well, guess I'll begin my Indian immersion starting with my complaints about the weather. (Unfortunately, "it was a sweltering 38 degrees out today" just doesn't sound quite right.) And speaking of the weather, what exactly is meant by "monsoon season" in Delhi? To all the veterans-- are we talking tsunami like waves and canoeing down the streets, a light afternoon drizzle, or something in between? Also, if your Friday at work is dragging along at a particularly painful pace, we'd love any comments finishing the following sentence: "One thing I wish I knew before making my first trip to India was..." Thanks to all in advance-- looking forward to repaying the favor someday!

Weekend at (Aunt) Bernie's

2011-06-06T07:53:00.000-04:00

During our wait for our own family, we have been fortunate that our trusting sisters and brother-in-laws have had enough faith in our parenting skills that they have allowed us to "practice" on their own offspring. This weekend we had the pleasure of trying out those skills on our youngest niece and goddaughter, Natalee.
Conclusion: While our dog Carlos still has a lot of work to do (particularly in the sharing arena) we are SO ready for this parent-thing! Bring on the kids (and all the pizza, bubbles, and hugs that come with them)!

And while it was truly, all fun and games, we did do a bit of learning. The following are a few take-away lessons from our weekend as "practice" parents:

"Battery-operated" is code for "impossible to put together and batteries NOT included."

Screen doors and long hallways are the best kind of "toys" and trump the battery-operated variety any day.

Even the pickiest eaters LOVE pizza.

Blue popsicles require baths-- and possible upholstery cleaning if their eaters INSIST on eating them in the big blue living room chair. Purple popsicles, by the way, induce fits. (Absolutely certain that she has inherited my OCD.)

Two year olds know the difference between swimming in a pool and taking a bath. The first is a fun activity. The second is not. They will not be fooled by your calling the giant bathtub a pool.

There aren't enough toys in the world to be shared between one two-year-old and one only-(child)-dog.

Carlos is going to need sibling classes.

Finally, a big thanks to my big sister for sharing. Sadly, having children has not come easy to either of us. I am SO hopeful that our plans in India work out, and that we are able to bring home a best friend for Natalee. I know, that, just like her mother, she will be the best big (quasi) sister in the world!

If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...

2011-06-02T23:08:00.010-04:00

So with law school finished, I am now focusing my energies on the following two projects: 1) passing the bar, and 2) having a baby. The first is tortuously painful as I attend bar prep class in the morning, squeeze in some hours at the office in the afternoon, and then return home to study up until a half hour before my new bedtime-- a strict 10:30 which is about the latest I can muster with expectations of being awake and sharp enough to tackle the legalities of stock transfers at 5:00 a.m. the next morning. The second, however, is far more exciting (if not equally nerve-wracking), and having planned it concurrently with project #1, will hopefully diminish its stress factor-- because really, what could be MORE stressful than trying to have a baby 7,466 miles away.

With respect to project #2, our first task is to submit our testing to SCI. Anyone who’s been there knows about it and anyone who is about to go there should be forewarned-- if you are seeking treatment via an alternative reproduction method, particularly involving third party donation, you will be required to undergo more blood tests than a Bunny Ranch resident. Every six months. Regardless of the fact that, likely, the only extra-marital baby making activities you’ve been involved in since your last test include a paper gown and an ultrasound wand. Additionally, if you are male, you will be required to have your swimmers undergo what I like to refer to as the “Deep Water” test-- as in, can they swim on their own, and if not, how much assistance will be needed. If you are self-cycling as a female, you will also be required to undergo a host of tests regarding the adequacy of your eggs and your carton (since we are using an egg donor and gestational carrier I am exempt from testing this time around (who-hoo), however, if anyone has any questions, please feel free to email me as I have been there, done that, multiple times).

Testing was our first experience revealing our India plans to others outside of our ridiculously awesome and supportive circle of family and friends. Sadly, it did not go well. The Deep Water test requires testing at a fertility clinic. Due to the extent of my infertility problems, we are “former” patients of more than one local clinic. Accordingly, we really didn’t have much choice but to return to a former clinic-- so we simply chose the one in closest proximity to our house. Let’s just say I wish I had selected door #1 rather than door #2. After our clinic requested additional documentation (which the SCI team provided uber-promptly as usual- they really are awesome) the clinic here agreed to perform the testing. However, when I called for the results, I received an extremely hurtful tirade regarding our decision to seek treatment in India.

Lab Technician: “Well, I should warn you that I read this article, and apparently, there was a couple from Germany who had a baby that way and they weren't allowed to take their baby home! I mentioned to XXX (another lab technician) what you were doing and she couldn't believe it; she told me how horrific the conditions are for your surrogate-- how they all live cramped in a dorm. I really felt I should tell you-”

Me: After checking my phone to be sure that I was speaking with a technician AT A FERTILITY CLINIC-- as in, a place designed to SUPPORT couples in their quest to have a family, I cut her off by asking her to forward the results and hung up. After a brief bout of tears, I proceeded to rehash all of the responses I would have loved to fire back at this incredibly insensitive lab technician. Among them:

I live in America-- I don’t normally concern myself with the applicability of German law to my activities. Do you?

If I told you I was pursuing surrogacy in the United States, would you have mentioned reading In re Baby M, 537 A.2d 1227, 109 N.J. 396 (1988) (a case where a surrogate fought a lengthy battle for parental rights to a child born via surrogacy and was ultimately granted visitation rights)? Moreover, would you have mentioned all of the heartbreaking tales of couples scammed by loathsome women-- in-the-U-n-i-t-e-d-S-t-a-t-e-s (gasp)-- who pretend to be pregnant and then disappear, leaving the intended parents with no baby AND no money?

Have you been to India and met the surrogates at my clinic, or are you making assumptions based on a popular media article regarding a completely different clinic? Of course I know that in your narrow mind, all Indian clinics are identical, just because they happen to be in the same country.

In retrospect, I am glad I exercised restraint and failed to engage in petty conversation with such an ignorant individual. While this certainly will be the last blogpost I waste on small-minded persons, it surely will not be my last encounter with them. I realize that surrogacy in India is not for everyone. It is not for those who are able to carry a child on their own. It is not for those who are fortunate enough to have an altruistic surrogate in their lives. And it is not for those who can foot the $130+ price tag in the United States. But it is for us, just as it is for many others who don't fit into any of the above categories. As a result, we welcome support, we appreciate concern, and we will heed the advice of any knowledgeable individuals who know what the heck they are talking about. But what we will not tolerate is an ignorant individual-- who professes to be in the business of assisting couples have families-- diminishing the way we have chosen to build ours. As the old adage goes, if you don't have anything nice to say....don't say anything at all!!!

Escape to Paradise

2011-05-24T19:37:00.000-04:00

To celebrate “our” graduation (like most law school spouses, Duane considers himself an “honorary” graduate by virtue of the fact that he put up with me for the past three years) we decided that a brief jaunt to Key West was in order. “Activities” consisted of lying on the beach, taking naps, drinking mass quantities of champagne cocktails, taking naps, enjoying scrumptious outdoor dinners, reading non-law school related books on the balcony of our bed and breakfast retreat, taking naps, cycling around the island, antiquing, and oh, did I mention taking naps? It was, in short, a most glorious, relaxing and rejuvenating weekend.

Baby Bill(s)

2011-05-19T19:34:00.004-04:00

Like any hopeful mother, I occasionally find myself browsing just-for-mommy sites, despite the fact that I am not quite an “official” member of the club yet. Recently, I found a site with a cost-of-raising a child calculator. Neat, right? The page displays a list of “expense” boxes, and I just plug in the year my child will be born, where I live, my annual household income, and whether I want my child to attend public or private college. Then, voila, the calculator spits out a figure reflecting what I will spend in a lifetime raising my child-- with a cute little disclaimer “not to despair” because my income will likely increase over time. Apparently, the figure I should “not be despairing” over is $282,416. Really? That’s it? For an entire lifetime? What a relief! I might as well have two or three. No wait, maybe even a Duggar-style family.

As someone forced to create my family through infertility treatment, this figure seems quite laughable. $14,560 for the first year? As in, I pay $14,560 over the course of an entire year AND receive all kinds of tangible items in return? I vaguely remember last year forking over 4x that amount, in a matter of seconds, as we handed our clinic a check in exchange for the mere chance of getting pregnant. I can’t help but wonder what a cost-of-making-a-baby-through- infertility-treatment site might look like. Would there even be enough room on the page for the expense boxes? Would the calculator even be able to add that high? And what about the disclaimer? Probably more along the lines of : “Go ahead and jump now. You’re doomed.”

While I certainly don’t begrudge those folks who get to skip right to the baby raising stage (ok, if I'm being completely honest, maybe, sometimes--but just a little), why not level the playing field a little for those of us who can’t seem to graduate from the baby making stage? Well Americans (sorry international blogland friends, this one’s not for you) now is our chance! On May 12, 2011, Senator Kirsten Gillibrand (D-NY) introduced the Family Act of 2011, a bill that would provide a tax credit for out-of-pocket infertility treatment costs! Are you jumping up and down yet??? This is SO exciting! However, in order to make this a reality, we ALL (as in you, your family, your friends, your friends-friends--everyone) need to contact our Senators and let them know that we not only support, but desperately NEED this credit. Please take less than two minutes to: Send an email to your U.S. Senators asking them to co-sponsor the Family Act.

While I feel blessed to have stumbled upon the incredibly unique opportunity to seek treatment in India, the fact is, that regardless of where an individual seeks treatment, and regardless of what type of treatment is sought, the bills quickly begin to add up. For once, I am none to happy to hear of a bill that will actually put money into my pocket, rather than take it out. So if you are too, please take a minute and let your legislators know...

Dear Mom... I Love You (and yes, this is also a test to see how often you read my blog)

2011-05-09T22:36:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I graduated law school. As most know, it also happened to be Mother’s Day. Not only did I make it through what is inarguably one of the toughest days of the year for mommy wannabes, I also had one of the most incredible days of my life. (I know, I know, I’m sure racking them up these past two weeks. However, I promise to make up for it this summer as I blog endlessly about the miserably mundane life of a law school graduate studying for the bar.)

About four months ago my mother called and asked for the date of my graduation. I looked online and discovered that it was May 8. I then pulled out a calendar to figure out on what day of the week May 8 would fall. Panic ensued. MOTHERS DAY?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? MY special day celebrating something I had worked SO hard for had to fall on the most anxiety-inducing day of the year? A day when all a woman who suffers from infertility wants to do is disable her facebook, hide under the covers and count the hours until it’s over. REALLY?!?! Can’t we please just reschedule? It’s not a large class…really…any other day but THAT one.

Needless to say, the date was set and whether I liked it or not, the day celebrating one of my biggest achievements would be shared with the day that recognizes one of my biggest failures. And yet, it was almost appropriate, as my time in law school was inextricably tied to my infertility. Three years ago, at about the same time I decided that I wanted to return to school, my husband and I decided we wanted to start our family. Like most mid-twenty somethings I was blissfully unaware that life CANNOT be planned and viewed having children like adding another class to my schedule. Having children while I was in school would enable me to stay home with them during the day, go to school at night, and begin a new career right about the time that they were ready to enter preschool. It was SO perfect.

Four months into law school my plans began to crumble. My first pregnancy loss. Then another, and another, and another. Endless fertility treatments. Driving to my clinic at 4 a.m. three times a week-- a FOUR hour round trip-- then working all day and driving downtown for school at night. Planning cycles around exam schedules, planning classes around injection times, planning externships around HCG result days. This was NOT what I had signed up for.

But rather than focus on what I had not gotten out of the past three years, I decided yesterday that I would focus on what I had gotten out of the past three years and in turn, what I could carry forward with me as I begin this new chapter in my life. I had gained strength, I had gained perspective, and above all, I had gained a newfound appreciation for the phenomenal mother that I have.

Yesterday was my mother’s special day. But what did she do? She sat through a three hour graduation for ME, threw a party for ME, made a toast to ME, gave presents to ME, and darn if she didn’t even mention the MD word. Like many law school graduates I haven’t exactly decided what I want to “be” after graduation. But I do know this. If given the opportunity to “be” a mother, I can only hope that I will parent with half the sensitivity and empathy of my own mother, and that in turn, my children will love me as I much as I love her. To the greatest mother EVER... I love you.

Everything's Gonna Be Alright

2011-05-07T08:29:00.005-04:00

Throughout my life I have been fortune enough to experience a handful of life changing events so memorable that neither the most eloquent writer nor the most skilled photographer could ever begin to capture their essence. Luckily, these experiences are forever embedded in my memory and permanently engraved on my heart; attending Resolve: The National Infertility Association’s Advocacy Day in D.C. this week with over 100 other women (and men) who suffer from the disease of infertility was one of those experiences.

Due to the isolating nature of infertility, women who are going through treatment often form bonds via local support groups or online forums. Having experienced so many disappointments, I have avoided these groups like the plague-- always fearful that eventually everyone except me would get pregnant, and in addition to being the failure amongst all of my “fertile” friends, I would also be the failure amongst all of my “formerly infertile” friends. After a few short moments in D.C., I realized how wrong I was.

First, nobody is ever “formerly infertile.” Many of the women I met had children. Regardless, all bore scars of infertility. Scars not only of lost pregnancies, but of lost marriages, lost jobs and worst of all, lost self-identities-- permanent markings on their lives that may fade with time but will never completely disappear.

Everyone’s story was different. Fifteen IVFs, repetitive adoption scams, seven miscarriages, five failed donor egg cycles, a surrogate who backed out at the last minute… the list was endless. And yet, the women I met were SO similar-- strong, beautiful, accomplished women, who, whether they had successfully built their families or were living childfree, had selflessly taken time out of their lives to come to D.C. and make it different for those who are still chasing their dream of having a family. Those, who like me, are traveling, literally, across the world for treatment because in the US it is just too damn expensive.

When treatment fails or a pregnancy is lost, it is not the sadness of losing that particular pregnancy that haunts you. It is the raw gripping fear that the next one or the one after that or the one after that will not work-- fear that you will NEVER become the mother you so desperately desire to be. Since attending Advocacy Day, for me, that fear has loosened its grip. After meeting SO many inspiring women, I just know that regardless of whether I become that mother or not, I will be an advocate for those who want to be, and that despite not having the slightest idea of how my story will end, I have found peace that eveything’s gonna be alright.

http://www.resolve.org/

Myth: Only "Older" Women Have Egg Quality Issues

2011-04-29T23:13:00.005-04:00

It's National Infertility Awareness Week! And to celebrate, RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association has created a Bust a Myth Blog Challenge to raise awareness about some of the most common infertility myths. Accordingly, I'm dedicating this post to busting one of my favorite all time myths: Only "Older" Women Have Egg Quality Issues

In the land of TTC, once you hit 35 you might as well start planning your day around the Price is Right and making dinner reservations for 5:30-- because it’s how the reproductive medical community is going to view you: OLD. Of course it is fair to say that we’ve been warned of the tragedy that befalls those who are endearingly referred to as “women of advanced maternal age.” More and more clinics are now urging women to make use of egg banking services and at least one company has now come out with an over the counter FSH test-- (really awesome for us infertiles who already pee obsessively on sticks “just to be absolutely sure” that we are not pregnant--now we can follow up the initial $15.95 test with a second $15.95 test that will confirm that we’ll likely never get pregnant).

But I digress. What nobody ever tells you is that not only do egg quality issues affect those +35, but they also affect the -35 crowd as well. And even…ready for this…the -30 crowd too! Though it is not nearly as common, it does happen, and I can tell you from personal experience that nobody (including the medical community) is prepared for it when it does. So what should your doctor’s response be when an FSH test reveals that you've tested at an above normal level at a below normal age?

A. Nothing. Medical providers should assume it is just a flawed test, not say anything, and not suggest a retest until the patient has spent several thousand dollars on failed treatments that were completely inappropriate for someone with high FSH.

B. Repeatedly ask if you are absolutely sure you never had chemo or were exposed to radiation when you were younger. (Because clearly these are the kind of things that one forgets.)

C. Repeatedly refer to you as “a 45 year old just for the sake of discussion.” (WHY? Why can’t I be the twenty-something year old who happens to have very high FSH levels? Regardless of egg age there are a lot of other differences between a woman in her twenties who is trying to conceive and a woman in her forties who is trying to conceive.)

D. Prohibit you from cycling in the regular IVF program because you don’t meet their FSH cut-off (i.e. you will royally screw up their clinics statistics) but eagerly suggest that you enroll in their donor egg program (i.e. you will totally boost their statistics). Oops…bad call on their part. Even with a 95% chance of success I still royally screwed up their statistics.

E. Acknowledge the uniqueness of your position. Recognize that support options that may be helpful to a woman in her forties may make a woman in her twenties feel like even more of an outsider (i.e. donor egg support groups). And suggest alternative family building options that have a high chance of success but are not completely cost-prohibitive (i.e. using a surrogate and egg donor in India!!!)

While Options A-D are all a part of what makes my journey mine, I hope that by bringing awareness to this myth, others will have the courage to seek out an Option E approach... even at an age, when 5:30 still means happy hour.

http://www.resolve.org/infertility101
http://www.resolve.org/takecharge

A Most Wonderful Easter Sunday...

2011-04-25T19:15:00.000-04:00

A Most Spoiled Dog

Cutest Niece Ever Acting Cute

Brother-In-Law #1, Mom and Duane

Sister #1 a/k/a Best Friend Ever and Me

Sister #2 a/k/a Best Friend Ever (Sadly Losing to Brother-In-Law #2 at the Egg Game)

Beautiful...

Because Sometimes One Basket's Just Not Enough

Look! No Hands!

Choosing a Coach for the Baby-Making Team

2011-04-21T18:44:00.003-04:00

Amanda and Dustin, this one's for you...

I envision my children’s birth much like a celebrity awards show. Someone announces that I’ve finally won (after years of unrealized nominations), I am handed my “prize,” and finally, I whip out a mile-long list of the names of people I’d like to thank, without whom it would never have been possible.

Over the past three years the list has gotten long. Very long. While we knew early on that this baby-making stuff wouldn’t exactly be the two-person one-bedroom affair that we were told it would be in middle school, we never could have imagined just how large our “team” would become. And while choosing the right players is obviously important, choosing a coach is equally so. While it’s clearly a very personal decision, I think it is helpful to hear how others went about the process. The following are the three main factors we considered when choosing our doctor in India (in order of importance to us).

Communication: In the U.S. I’ve experienced both the tiny local clinic where it seems even the janitor knows your daily estrogen levels to the giant baby factory where receiving a call from your doctor would have been like receiving a call from the big man Himself. Both have plusses and minuses. However, for this journey, being so far away, I wanted to go with a clinic with a more personal feel. So that eliminated some of the biggest clinics (despite the fact that for the most part they are more established). Additionally, I spent the past year reading others’ blogs. I noted what people thought of their clinic’s communication and whether they always felt in the loop. I love the blog opinions because while it is easy for a clinic to hand you a reference of someone who had a great experience, the blogs tend to tell the real story. Finally, I started contacting the clinics. At this point, SCI came out a clear winner. SCI has international case managers who responded to my emails like, yesterday. Plus they have been through the experience themselves. I love this. With regards to using an agency, I am not a fan of intermediaries. I like to get my information from the source and I often feel that the more people involved, the more likely information is to get misconstrued- sort of like that childhood game of “telephone.” So, for me, using an agency was never an option.

Care: While the US requires that clinics report their statistics through a national database, there is no such requirement in India (as far as I am aware). Regardless, when I cycled in the US using donor eggs, my clinic gave me a 75% chance of success on the first try and a 95% chance of success by the second cycle. Guess who was still beating the odds the fourth time around? Needless to say, I’m not too hung up on statistics. However, since we’ll be using a surrogate for the first time, I was concerned about the surrogate care. I liked that at SCI, surrogates are housed nearby in apartments with their families as opposed to in a dormitory without their families. My family makes me happy. My bet is that having their families around makes them happy too. In my opinion, happy surrogates equal happy babies.

Cost: While cost was obviously one of the main reasons we decided to pursue surrogacy in India in the first place, it didn’t really factor into my decision when choosing a clinic. For the most part, I didn’t see that much of a cost variance between clinics if working with them directly. So for me, a few thousand dollars more was worth it if the clinic came out on top with regards to communication and care.

Finally, while it is imperative that you do the research and assess your options, I don’t think ANYONE ever feels confident going into this process. Eventually, you just have to make the leap. Frankly, we were leaning towards SCI when we found out that one of our top two donors there had already been reserved for the fall. Let’s just say it lit a fire under us to reserve our other favorite. We found this out around 6:00 am and spent the rest of the day racing around (ok my amazing husband spent the day racing around) to wire money to India to secure the other donor. After an exhausting day, I came home and assessed what we had done that day. Had we really just wired 150,000 rupees (it sounds like so much more when you say it in rupees) to a clinic we’ve never seen, in a country we’ve never been to, to reserve a donor we’ve never met, for a procedure that we don’t even have a contract for yet??? And then up popped an email from SCI, letting me know that everything had been received, and that the donor was reserved, and that for now, all was well in surrogacy-land. And as the anxiety slowly dissipated I realized that regardless of how apprehensive I was feeling about the process, I was completely confident we had chosen the right clinic.

This is Not a Blog About Marijuana and No, We are Not Pregnant Yet

2011-04-17T15:58:00.002-04:00

Choosing a name for the blog was a little more difficult than I anticipated. As I was mulling over ideas that could even begin to capture the spirit of this journey, Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” came to mind. I mentioned a variation of this title to Duane and the following debate ensued:

Duane: That’s not the title of the poem. It’s “The Road Less Traveled.”

Me a/k/a the Former English Teacher: No, you’re wrong. It’s a common misconception. While the words “less traveled” are used at the end of the poem, the title is “The Road Not Taken.” Go ahead-- google it. I know I am right.

And of course we all know how the debate ended because I am the wife and we all know that no matter what-- the wife is always right. Nevertheless, to compare this journey to a road not taken would be completely inaccurate. In fact, had it not been for others who were willing to travel it before us (to whom we would like to publicly extend a GIANT thank you), we would never have even found the road, let alone had the guts to venture onto it. So in the end I decided that “less traveled” was far more appropriate. I then emailed our dear friend Asha for the Hindi translation of the word “road.” The following conversation ensued:

Me: Duane, Asha told me the Hindi word for “road” is “rasta.” I’m going to call the blog “Rasta Less Traveled.”

Duane: Bern, do you realize what most people in America are going to think your blog is about when they see the title?

Me: Duane, I get it. I don’t care. The blog is to educate EVERYONE about the unique path that we have chosen. And if it happens to attract a few people in search of some less-oft smoked marijuana, well then I guess, all the better.

Additionally, I would like to state that we are not pregnant (yet). I have received several emails, primarily from local friends asking if “she, I mean you, I mean, uh, you know, you guys are pregnant right now?” Big sigh….We wish! Because frankly it would be SO easy to start this blog when all the fun, good stuff starts happening. However, I am not a cheater and as a result, I have started the blog from the very beginning with the purpose being threefold: 1) to raise awareness of this unique family building option, 2) to serve as our children’s story so that they can understand just how desperately we wanted them (despite possible confusion at times regarding their unique birth stories), and 3) to keep our friends and family updated on our situation and occasionally relieve me of having to explain why I am just not up for attending their [insert baby shower, child-centered event here]. Accordingly, because it is just as important for intended parents to hear about the good, the great, and the truly magnificent, as it for them to hear about the bad, the ugly, and the down-right miserable, and because I don’t think that reasons two or three could be accomplished without sharing the WHOLE story, I have decided to start the blog now…at the very beginning of the road.

Learning to Not Think Like a Lawyer

2011-04-15T22:18:00.001-04:00

For the past three years, I have heard time and again that the ultimate goal of law school is not to acquire substantive knowledge, but rather to learn to “think like a lawyer.” As my graduation date now looms a mere three weeks away, I am confident that if this was truly the goal, then alas, I should consider myself a success. My husband would probably tell you that I had a head start, given my type-A personality and the fact that I can spend a week in Vegas without having the slightest urge to gamble, but rest assured that whatever existed before has been amplified to the max. Yes, as a result of three grueling years of law school, it’s nothing but clear, calculated, full risk/cost assessed decisions for this almost-attorney. With the exception of one…

WE’RE PURSUING SURROGACY IN INDIA!!! Now granted, I have researched and blog-followed and forum-stalked the adventures of many, many others who have gone before us, but the fact is that try as I may, the components of this particular decision are simply incompatible with my newly-programmed lawyer-thinking brain. It is extremely risky and impossible to cost- calculate, and ~~if it does~~ when it does work, the entire pregnancy will take place roughly 12015 kilometers or 7466 miles or 6488 nautical miles away! Are we really going to do this?!?! The answer is yes. And the reason is simple…we have truly exhausted all of our options here in the US. At the ripe old age of 29, I have lost four pregnancies, engaged in various “novice” fertility treatments, and finally endured the ultimate insult- three and a half failed donor egg IVF cycles. After taking a break we began looking at other options that neither involved my “mature for their age” eggs or my inadequate egg carton. After considering adoption (long waiting lists, lots of money up front and a thirty-day return period) and US surrogacy (costs totaling $130K+) we decided to pursue surrogacy in India. So without further ado, I present to you OUR story…