This blog is as much about my surrogacy journey as it is about moving on after a horrific loss. And lately I have noticed that the loss is creeping up on me. Quite literally, the calendar seems to think that this Friday will mark one year since I went into labour. I can't imagine how that is possible, and yet there it is: October 24th. Our twins' birthday. Our daughter's death date. One of those days that change you forever - for good and bad - and that you will never forget.
My family and I have been speaking about how to approach the first year anniversary of their births/deaths. How do you mark the year without the rituals provided by religion? We cannot visit a cemetery since we did not bury them. The ashes, and a small shelf with their things is in our room, but inviting family and friends to sit and weep on my bed staring at the shelf does not seem fitting. I considered placing a marker at the cemetery where they were cremated and where we said our goodbye last year, but it did not seem to create a meaningful space for us to connect with Patrick and Maggie. So, brainstorming continued.
As Lee and I contemplated, through teary-eyed dinner conversations and quiet voices in bed, I started to notice something. My body started telling me that this is harder than I am even acknowledging: the eye twitch. My left eye has been twitching for 1.5 weeks. When I wake in the morning, speaking to clients at work, in the store shopping for the anniversary... it twitches. Yet another reminder of the loss and coming days.
But, life goes on, right? Sad or twitched, I have responsibilities. Including training at work. One of my co-workers suggested that all disciplines from the health team attend a two day training, which I was happy to do. It was not until the night before that I realized, two weeks from the death anniversaries and I was about to spend two days talking about palliative care... needless to say the training was emotionally draining. (Informative, though!) And, when I escaped to my office to weep, my lovely midwife found me, reminded me to breath and helped me to re-ground. Thank goodness for her.
We now have a plan for the twins anniversary, our own way to mark the day(s). As well as their birthday. I expect the coming week will be awful and that I will rely heavily on the presence of family and friends for support and distraction. In the meantime, my eye twitch and I will rest, practising acceptance that this is happening and is emotionally distressing, but survivable (even though it still does not feel that way).
xx
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
And Then Came C
Actually finding a surrogate is a rollercoaster. Will we find one? Or not? Will we have to re-mortgage our house? Move to Mexico? Every now and then strangers engage in the conversation with you - hope up. Then they stop speaking to you - hope down.
Our friends and family knew what we were doing and we did not feel comfortable approaching anyone directly. We imagined this would be too emotionally laden a question and difficult for loved ones to answer honestly.
I began speaking to women through various Facebook groups and chat forums. Upon initially telling my story my spirits were lifted, as several women came forward expressing interest in being a surrogate if not immediately, certainly eventually. Frustratingly, one by one, they stopped communicating with me. Losing these contacts was probably one of the most disheartening time periods in this journey. I even spoke with one woman who had been a surrogate before, but it just did not seem like we were going to find someone. I started looking more into agencies and international options.
After all our searching, one fateful day (queue magical music and cheesy lighting), I received a message from a school acquaintance. The message indicated that she wanted to speak to me but was unsure how to approach the topic and through what means. Not sure what it could be about, but wishing as always, I invited her to chat away. C explained that she and her spouse had been speaking about surrogacy and that their conversation could not go any further without our input. I read that message and THANK YOU WORLD!
What feels like a long time, but was likely a week, maybe two, we discussed surrogacy. How fertility treatment works. Expectations with regard to the pregnancy, abortion, delivery, care providers, etc. Wonderfully, we seemed to always have the same answers. Easy peasy. We had the occasional phone conversation that lasted hours as we chatted about life in general and surrogacy in particular. We spoke about money: awkward but necessary.
One evening I came home from work around 9pm (in late March) and checked my phone to find a message from C in which the second line read:
Spouse and I would like to move forward with your family.
In that moment my life changed. She changed the potential story we were writing. I danced down to the basement to tell my spouse, who is generally far more even keeled that me. He reminded me to be cautious. I did my best, but we had a surrogate!
In fact, as C has remained involved, positive, supportive and enthusiastic about the process it has become clear that as my hope wavered during my pregnancy and became a scary prospect in the months that followed, she brought it back into our lives. C is my hope. I am a person who has hope, embodied in someone who offers to change my life for the better. Thank you, C.
xx
Our friends and family knew what we were doing and we did not feel comfortable approaching anyone directly. We imagined this would be too emotionally laden a question and difficult for loved ones to answer honestly.
I began speaking to women through various Facebook groups and chat forums. Upon initially telling my story my spirits were lifted, as several women came forward expressing interest in being a surrogate if not immediately, certainly eventually. Frustratingly, one by one, they stopped communicating with me. Losing these contacts was probably one of the most disheartening time periods in this journey. I even spoke with one woman who had been a surrogate before, but it just did not seem like we were going to find someone. I started looking more into agencies and international options.
After all our searching, one fateful day (queue magical music and cheesy lighting), I received a message from a school acquaintance. The message indicated that she wanted to speak to me but was unsure how to approach the topic and through what means. Not sure what it could be about, but wishing as always, I invited her to chat away. C explained that she and her spouse had been speaking about surrogacy and that their conversation could not go any further without our input. I read that message and THANK YOU WORLD!
What feels like a long time, but was likely a week, maybe two, we discussed surrogacy. How fertility treatment works. Expectations with regard to the pregnancy, abortion, delivery, care providers, etc. Wonderfully, we seemed to always have the same answers. Easy peasy. We had the occasional phone conversation that lasted hours as we chatted about life in general and surrogacy in particular. We spoke about money: awkward but necessary.
One evening I came home from work around 9pm (in late March) and checked my phone to find a message from C in which the second line read:
Spouse and I would like to move forward with your family.
In that moment my life changed. She changed the potential story we were writing. I danced down to the basement to tell my spouse, who is generally far more even keeled that me. He reminded me to be cautious. I did my best, but we had a surrogate!
In fact, as C has remained involved, positive, supportive and enthusiastic about the process it has become clear that as my hope wavered during my pregnancy and became a scary prospect in the months that followed, she brought it back into our lives. C is my hope. I am a person who has hope, embodied in someone who offers to change my life for the better. Thank you, C.
xx
Saturday, October 18, 2014
THANKSgiving? Not so sure....
Last weekend was Thanksgiving. We spent a lovely, but rainy, weekend with family. Our daughter played with relatives, my husband relaxed, and I focussed on the love and support that I gain from family even when they are not trying. I suppose I am grateful for that.
However, if I was to be honest with myself, I did not really want to practice being Thankful. I wanted to pout, wallow in self-pity and re-invest in my grief. At Thanksgiving last year my family visited me. I was on bed rest and nearing viability in the pregnancy. Hope was becoming an increasingly real possibility. We even had family photographs done by a dear friend. I announced the sexes of the babies. We laughed, hugged, and enjoyed good food.
This year I am without those children. They would have been nearly one (though several months younger once adjusted for gestational age at birth). But, I would have been one of those mothers that knew the official age and gestational age of her children. Either way, they might have been smiling, starting to eat solids, nursing.... I should be exhausted from sleepless nights, be able to described babywearing twins with accuracy and be a pro-tandem nurser.
Instead, I have a small urn of ashes and a few small children's nursery decor items on a shelf in my bedroom. I have photos of tiny babies in my home, but not evidence of them otherwise. I am wearing my snowflake bracelet daily to remember them - as if some how I forget sometimes!. And, I still sleep with each of their blankets and small stuffed animals that their Dad picked for them; each night I still make sure they are there, quietly reach out to touch the blankets where sleeping babies should be, and feel the heartache that I try to ignore more of the day.
The truth is, I know I have much privilege in my life and have much that others do not. And I do give thanks for all of those. But on some days, when it seems as though I am expected to identify all this gratefulness... I just do not. Instead I feel sad and angry that Patrick and Maggie are not busy babies in my life.
xx
However, if I was to be honest with myself, I did not really want to practice being Thankful. I wanted to pout, wallow in self-pity and re-invest in my grief. At Thanksgiving last year my family visited me. I was on bed rest and nearing viability in the pregnancy. Hope was becoming an increasingly real possibility. We even had family photographs done by a dear friend. I announced the sexes of the babies. We laughed, hugged, and enjoyed good food.
This year I am without those children. They would have been nearly one (though several months younger once adjusted for gestational age at birth). But, I would have been one of those mothers that knew the official age and gestational age of her children. Either way, they might have been smiling, starting to eat solids, nursing.... I should be exhausted from sleepless nights, be able to described babywearing twins with accuracy and be a pro-tandem nurser.
Instead, I have a small urn of ashes and a few small children's nursery decor items on a shelf in my bedroom. I have photos of tiny babies in my home, but not evidence of them otherwise. I am wearing my snowflake bracelet daily to remember them - as if some how I forget sometimes!. And, I still sleep with each of their blankets and small stuffed animals that their Dad picked for them; each night I still make sure they are there, quietly reach out to touch the blankets where sleeping babies should be, and feel the heartache that I try to ignore more of the day.
The truth is, I know I have much privilege in my life and have much that others do not. And I do give thanks for all of those. But on some days, when it seems as though I am expected to identify all this gratefulness... I just do not. Instead I feel sad and angry that Patrick and Maggie are not busy babies in my life.
xx
A Note to Readers
Before I begin, I side note: my writing about surrogacy and our journey to try to have more children after Patrick and Maggie died have not been posted in 'real time'. I have done this to allow my family and I some privacy as we process the ups and downs of such a journey.
When writing about Patrick and Maggie, however, I am writing of current events.
When writing about Patrick and Maggie, however, I am writing of current events.
Heartlessness, Paternalism: All in a Day's Work for a Fertility Doctor
In the weeks after Patrick and Maggie died I returned to my fertility specialist's office to gain some insight into what might happen or change in our fertility future. I asked about surrogacy and was told only that surrogacy is a very expensive option. With this limited response, we moved forward healing and planning.
We knew that we would eventually want to try to have more children and so began with the preliminary testing and soon requested an appointment to begin the process of surrogacy.
Naive though I may be, I had not anticipated that my doctor would be unsupportive, let alone for irrelevant and unfounded reasons. We were first discouraged quietly, reminded that a consultation would not be OHIP covered. Less gently, a conversation with the receptionist who explained that we simply do not qualify for surrogacy as we do not carry enough risk. I clarified that the risk of pPROM is up to 30% for me. She assured me that I would need to have no uterus at all, or have absolutely no hope of carrying a pregnancy for them to support surrogacy. I reminded her that I have two dead children; she assured me this is not enough. I asked her "how many dead babies do I need to have?" and she assured me that no number of infant deaths would matter.
Having been their patient for years, what was mind-blowing and most frustrating about this was that they had refused to proceed with previous fertility cycles with me because there was a risk of twins/multiples around 30%. I recall having a cancelled cycle and feeling so frustrated that my consent was not enough to move forward. And this simply emphasized the practice of 'covering their own butts' at the cost of patient respect. Essentially, 30% is too risky for them but not for me. The turmoil I would face in a pregnancy or infant loss is not as bad as bad PR for them.
In my frustration the clinic decided to have my doctor phone directly for an explanation. She indicated that my risk of pPROM is separate from my risk of Chorioamnionitis, which was of more concern to her. The fact that the two co-exist was over-looked in the conversation. She reminded me that I am not an expert (condescendingly, but true) but nor is she (at least she acknowledged her limitations). She suggested a referral back to the specialist who followed my pregnancy for in-put. I inquired what would need to be said in the recommendation or what percentage of risk would be required for her to do surrogacy with me. She explained that there is not a defined line and that no matter what the referral said, it would be left to the discretion of the doctors. (For the record, I saw the referral she sent and it said on it that I want to have a surrogate and they disagree with my request, ensuring an unbiased referral, of course!).
Feeling hopeless, defeated,... and then she elaborated. She began to explain her role in protecting a would-be-surrogate. She reminded me that a surrogate could face health complications (no different from all the other women she helps to impregnate). She also pointed out that the surrogate could be traumatized by giving away the baby to whom she has given birth. Basically, she implied that surrogates are uninformed and exploited women who must rely on doctors such as herself for protection and as such, should only be used in impossible cases. Paternalism! Misogynistic! Ack!
I was so insulted on behalf of would-be-surrogates I said nothing. Her comments are not founded in any research. In fact, the research seems to state the opposite - surrogates are mostly happy with their decision and many go on to carry for others again.
I was devastated that we might have reached the end of the road. I was furious that she spoke to me and about would-be-surrogates the way she did. And I was hurt that she dismissed our plea so easily. I told my spouse that we might have to undergo treatment and take our chances - we had no surrogate and we had no clinic.
xx
Naive though I may be, I had not anticipated that my doctor would be unsupportive, let alone for irrelevant and unfounded reasons. We were first discouraged quietly, reminded that a consultation would not be OHIP covered. Less gently, a conversation with the receptionist who explained that we simply do not qualify for surrogacy as we do not carry enough risk. I clarified that the risk of pPROM is up to 30% for me. She assured me that I would need to have no uterus at all, or have absolutely no hope of carrying a pregnancy for them to support surrogacy. I reminded her that I have two dead children; she assured me this is not enough. I asked her "how many dead babies do I need to have?" and she assured me that no number of infant deaths would matter.
Having been their patient for years, what was mind-blowing and most frustrating about this was that they had refused to proceed with previous fertility cycles with me because there was a risk of twins/multiples around 30%. I recall having a cancelled cycle and feeling so frustrated that my consent was not enough to move forward. And this simply emphasized the practice of 'covering their own butts' at the cost of patient respect. Essentially, 30% is too risky for them but not for me. The turmoil I would face in a pregnancy or infant loss is not as bad as bad PR for them.
In my frustration the clinic decided to have my doctor phone directly for an explanation. She indicated that my risk of pPROM is separate from my risk of Chorioamnionitis, which was of more concern to her. The fact that the two co-exist was over-looked in the conversation. She reminded me that I am not an expert (condescendingly, but true) but nor is she (at least she acknowledged her limitations). She suggested a referral back to the specialist who followed my pregnancy for in-put. I inquired what would need to be said in the recommendation or what percentage of risk would be required for her to do surrogacy with me. She explained that there is not a defined line and that no matter what the referral said, it would be left to the discretion of the doctors. (For the record, I saw the referral she sent and it said on it that I want to have a surrogate and they disagree with my request, ensuring an unbiased referral, of course!).
Feeling hopeless, defeated,... and then she elaborated. She began to explain her role in protecting a would-be-surrogate. She reminded me that a surrogate could face health complications (no different from all the other women she helps to impregnate). She also pointed out that the surrogate could be traumatized by giving away the baby to whom she has given birth. Basically, she implied that surrogates are uninformed and exploited women who must rely on doctors such as herself for protection and as such, should only be used in impossible cases. Paternalism! Misogynistic! Ack!
I was so insulted on behalf of would-be-surrogates I said nothing. Her comments are not founded in any research. In fact, the research seems to state the opposite - surrogates are mostly happy with their decision and many go on to carry for others again.
I was devastated that we might have reached the end of the road. I was furious that she spoke to me and about would-be-surrogates the way she did. And I was hurt that she dismissed our plea so easily. I told my spouse that we might have to undergo treatment and take our chances - we had no surrogate and we had no clinic.
xx
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
The Hunt for a Surrogate
While trying to find a clinic turned out to be more trouble than we anticipated, we knew that finding someone to be a surrogate would be a whole other challenge.
First, a bit of a law lesson (or my understanding thereof):
In Canada one cannot be compensated for being a surrogate. She can only be reimbursed costs which result directly from the treatment or pregnancy. As much as this sounds black and white, in my research I learned how gray it can be. It seems that some folks claim things like vehicle, rent and so forth, as these are important things to have when pregnant. However, I never believe that seemed to be within the spirit of the law. And, to be honest, if it was, we would never be able to afford anything. I struggled to understand how 'experienced surrogates' could require more reimbursements if it is altruistic. And how was I going to find one of the truly altruistic people? Either way, after treatment, lawyers, expenses and all the rest, Canadian agencies suggest to have $60,000+ available for your surrogacy budget.
In the United States the rules vary by state. I found many states in which a surrogate can be reimbursed and agency's suggested that Intended Parents (IPs = us) have about $150,000 in the budget. This would include the treatment, lawyer fees, reimbursements and compensation. This was difficult to learn; there seemed to be so many more women willing to be surrogates in the USA that it made me want to consider going there, but the reality is that they are available because it is profitable. The USA was out.
Then international perhaps? My cousin told me that Torontonians are going to India and Mexico, so I did some research. After travel I was not sure that India would be any more affordable, Mexico however, would be cheaper and warm! And, safe? Not sure. Surrogacy is legal in only one state in Mexico - what if she delivers somewhere else? How do I enforce our contract in Mexico, couldn't she just steal the baby? Most people reacted apprehensively, but I stored it away in my memory - better than nothing, right?
Canada looked like our best bet. I joined websites, forums, chat groups and Facebook groups. I gave detailed accounts of our history and vague versions. I had a few people come forward and speak to me. Timelines were at times an issue. Several people wrote to tell me that they hope to be a surrogate - but not yet/spouse is not supportive/they are moving. A couple of women had longer conversations with me, I got my hopes up, and then they would disappear. One or two family members contemplated helping us, but ultimately could not for personal reasons.
Each time someone said no or avoided us I felt sad and scared, but always understanding. I know that it is a huge request. Then sometimes I was insensitive, one friend pointed it out to me, I had been thinking about it so much that it became obvious and second-nature for me, but most people do not think about this, let alone plan to do it.
I told family to spread the word. I told friends to spread the word. I never asked anyone directly, I never believed that it would be a fair question. And so, my hope waxed and waned with the conversations I had with various women and agencies.
xx
First, a bit of a law lesson (or my understanding thereof):
In Canada one cannot be compensated for being a surrogate. She can only be reimbursed costs which result directly from the treatment or pregnancy. As much as this sounds black and white, in my research I learned how gray it can be. It seems that some folks claim things like vehicle, rent and so forth, as these are important things to have when pregnant. However, I never believe that seemed to be within the spirit of the law. And, to be honest, if it was, we would never be able to afford anything. I struggled to understand how 'experienced surrogates' could require more reimbursements if it is altruistic. And how was I going to find one of the truly altruistic people? Either way, after treatment, lawyers, expenses and all the rest, Canadian agencies suggest to have $60,000+ available for your surrogacy budget.
In the United States the rules vary by state. I found many states in which a surrogate can be reimbursed and agency's suggested that Intended Parents (IPs = us) have about $150,000 in the budget. This would include the treatment, lawyer fees, reimbursements and compensation. This was difficult to learn; there seemed to be so many more women willing to be surrogates in the USA that it made me want to consider going there, but the reality is that they are available because it is profitable. The USA was out.
Then international perhaps? My cousin told me that Torontonians are going to India and Mexico, so I did some research. After travel I was not sure that India would be any more affordable, Mexico however, would be cheaper and warm! And, safe? Not sure. Surrogacy is legal in only one state in Mexico - what if she delivers somewhere else? How do I enforce our contract in Mexico, couldn't she just steal the baby? Most people reacted apprehensively, but I stored it away in my memory - better than nothing, right?
Canada looked like our best bet. I joined websites, forums, chat groups and Facebook groups. I gave detailed accounts of our history and vague versions. I had a few people come forward and speak to me. Timelines were at times an issue. Several people wrote to tell me that they hope to be a surrogate - but not yet/spouse is not supportive/they are moving. A couple of women had longer conversations with me, I got my hopes up, and then they would disappear. One or two family members contemplated helping us, but ultimately could not for personal reasons.
Each time someone said no or avoided us I felt sad and scared, but always understanding. I know that it is a huge request. Then sometimes I was insensitive, one friend pointed it out to me, I had been thinking about it so much that it became obvious and second-nature for me, but most people do not think about this, let alone plan to do it.
I told family to spread the word. I told friends to spread the word. I never asked anyone directly, I never believed that it would be a fair question. And so, my hope waxed and waned with the conversations I had with various women and agencies.
xx
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