First of all, thanks for all of your comments on Kyra's room makeover. She absolutely loves it. To use her words, she says that she feels like she's in a "spa boutique." I don't know where she got the girly-girl from, but it certainly isn't me. I'm not really a girly-girl, but it's fun having one, especially one like Kyra who is as much dirt and wrestling as she is frills and lace. One minute she's painting her nails and having tea parties and the next minute she's dropkicking the boys in the playroom.
Now for the real topic of this post(and I assure you, I will ramble)...these days I've been feeling very...WTF!?!? "What the fuck?" is about the best qualifier that I can come up with. Speaking from a surrogacy perspective, the past 18 months have sucked. Big time. Seriously - as surrogacy/infertility is the primary focus of this blog, I'm amazed that anyone sticks around to read about that line because the journey hath sucketh much. In 18 months I haven't moved much further than the starting line. Sometimes I'm surprised that people still show up to read here, because I'm beginning to feel like a broken record. You've seen me through the very start of my journey with M&S, a failed cycle, a chemical, the "end," the matching phase, a new match with Chance and Apollo, two chemicals with them, another end, and now matching. AGAIN. WTF?
I can't help but think of all the things I should have been writing about by now: my IPs' reactions to hearing the heartbeat of their baby for the first time, discussions about the pregnancy side of surrogacy...hell -- had I not had the first chemical this time last year, I would now be 5 months post-partum from Mia and Urs' baby (she's doing great, by the way - having a baby girl in less than 2 months). Right now, I should have morning sickness so bad that I'm barfing my toenails. But no - I'm back at the starting line, and Chance and Apollo are empty-handed at the wrong type of finish line. WTF?
I started this leg of my life as a surrogate at the beginning of November 2007. I matched with Mia and Urs at the end of that month and we had our first transfer in mid-February 2008. There are other surrogates who started looking for intended parents or transferred around the same time I did who have gotten pregnant, delivered, recovered, found new matches, and are already pregnant again. And here I sit, twiddling my thumbs waiting for another match, with the sadness of three losses and a pocket full of broken hearts to keep me company. What. The. FUCK?
On most days I handle the hand that's been dealt to me with a surprising amount of grace (if I do say so myself), but for today, I'm just feeling sorry for myself, and I hate feeling sorry for myself. Someone please stamp the L on my forehead, because I probably won't have any luck with having that turn out right either if I did it myself.
