Since I've been out of work for my back injury I've had lots of down time; to much if you ask me but who am I to disagree with doctors orders? One thing that I've been doing to pass the time is watching documentary's. Primarily on health and wellness, diet, juicing, and an occasional miscellaneous. One of the films I watched was called " Crazy, Sexy, Cancer", now I don't have cancer but I was obsessed with this film and primarily the films writer/star Kris Carr. She was diagnosed with cancer at age 31, a rare form that is slow growing that lives in her liver and lungs; she had her whole life ahead of her and she took this information and changed her life. Her cancer is incurable; but stable. She eats well, does yoga, and lives in the moment. This got me thinking; why don't I have cancer? I certainly have a terrible diet, my favorite "food" is diet coke and I do not live in the moment. I'm always worrying about my kids and yoga is just something I envision myself doing but don't actually get myself away from my morning coffee to do it.
I did have Tom go out and buy me a juicer. I made one this morning and it was heaven! It had kale, apples, grapes, and carrots. I must admit it took more time cleaning the machine then it did making the juice but who says a healthy lifestyle is simple? The new year is in front of us and my plan for 2013 is to stay on track; eat my veggies, stay away from meat and just live in the moment. As I said in a previous post; I want to be a healthy rock star Grandma to Milo not a disabled one. My take away from this blog is not to change your life instantly; that never works but maybe just take baby steps. My baby step for today was to bury my diet coke. Seriously, I could have had a memorial for it; that's how much it meant to me!
Right now I am living in this moment, I have my new grandson at my side, a husband that would give me the world, and fabulous kids. Now it's time to give them and myself the person that has been inside me for some time but I kept chasing her away. Bring on 2013!
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Milo
The first time I saw Milo, my first grandchild he was only minutes old. He looked like your typical newborn except he had something extra unique about him; he was my first grandchild. He had that perfect newborn appearance, the kind I see all the time after a birth that I've attended but his was different. He looked like he glowed, he had an expression on his face that stated, I'm here; and I'm ready world! His parents looked incredible; my son Tommy owned the proud papa role with great vigor! The moment he cut his sons cord was a memory I will never forget.
When I entered the room; Milo's mother; Cayla announced his name to me...."Welcome your new grandson Milo Thomas!" We didn't know what they were planning on naming him and the suspense was killing me! The name fit him perfectly; and also them as a couple. During Cayla's pregnancy they threw that name out a few times and it kept coming back to me in my mind. I just knew it would be his namesake. Cayla did amazing and the infamous Ina May was mentioned several times during her labor.
Since his birth I have been out of work due to a work injury. I'm missing being in the labor room, I'm missing the emotions that exude out of every pore of every person that enters the birth zone. I'm missing the smells..(yes, I said smells), the laughs, joys, and tears of the mother's seeing their hard work coming to a major climax. Helping mother's get their infants to breast for the first time, or just bearing witness to the most monumental moment of their lives. I often think back to my own birth experiences and ponder that I won't be going through birth again. How to wrap my brain around the idea that I am now a grandmother and have moved on from being the birth Momma. Tom has been over the moon being a grandfather; already looking ahead to big wheels and future movies he can bring him to. The joys of this stage in my life can not be stated in words....but I believe all Mom's would like to bottle up some of the days gone by and just hit replay; even if it's just for a day to snug and play with their babies, toddlers, and so on...How many times have I said to my kids.."couldn't you just stay this age forever??"
Saturday, August 11, 2012
My 27 year old self
The day will soon come when I can move again. I will ride a bike, speed walk, or even just sit without worrrying about losing these babies. How is it at the age of twenty-seven that I became responsible for other peoples' most vaulable belongings. I had no idea that it would entail sleepless nights. Yes, I had other pregnancies but this one was different, this one almost an out of body experience. These were not my children they were someone else's. Two boys the ultrasound tech said, two boys that seemed to have all their parts. Two parents that have placed all their trust in me. We became pregnant on the second try, they had wanted it so badly that when we met for the first time my husband didn't know how to react. It always came so easy for us; our chidren were discussed only moments before they were conceived and then there they were, our little blessings.
The soon to be mom has been so kind to me. She has made it so during those long nights when I am unable to sleep I can read one of the many books she has purchased for me, uplifting books, she says, "It's good for the babies to have you calm." She checks up on me to make sure that I'm eating everything I should. Why would she assume that I wouldn't eat properly? The stress sometimes of doing something wrong is overwelming.
Bed rest began at twenty-six weeks gestation. The contractions started as if these little guys were saying they wanted out now. Did they sense I wasn't their mother? Could they feel that this wasn't their home? The doctor gave me tocolytics and IV hydration and sent me home with instructions to not move unless I was getting up to the bathroom. "What about my children?" I asked They answered me more with a look than an answer. The look said, well, you got yourself into this, figure it out. My husband was the answer. He cooked, cleaned, and brought the kids to daycare before he went to work. Did he ever wonder what I was thinking when I said "Honey, I love being pregnant, how about we help an infertile couple?" He's not a complainer, which is helpful because if he was I'm not sure what I would do with myself.
I'm wondering if these days go on forever just to make me think that this pregnancy will. Don't get me wrong; I'm excited to see these little ones that I have gotten to know in a way that is more like a passing acquaintance than anything maternal. I could be the aunt...Aunt Carrie. That sounds just right.
Their father is a kind man, around fifty-one, a pulmonary doctor, who has very kind eyes and weeps every time he sees me. He has a lovely spirit that I find myself drawn to. There is a part of me that knows we are not in their league. I am not an educated women, my husband is a chef who could write cookbooks with Emeril Lagasse but our finacial status does not compare to theirs. I often think of becoming a nurse, sitting here with my hands on my engorged abdomen. I think, why can't I become a nurse? I have a supportive husband, we're done having our children. Then something shifts in me and I change my constantly fleeting mind. No one in my family went to college, this is a ridiculous dream.
I feel the babies moving all the time now. They are growing big and our weekly ultrasounds show them to be getting closer. I am getting increasingly excited to see their parents faces when they arrive. I think about how their birth will be. Will I have a cesarean section or will I have them natural like my children? I'm not that concerned as long as in the end everyone is happy and healthy. It's important that their mom is happy, I see the way she looks at me sometimes. She has such a deep sadness in her that I pray will vanish once she see her children.
I can hear my little ones running around downstairs as I sit here in the little nest that I have created waiting for the grand due date. I will see these children as they grow, their parents have promised us this. My own little ones don't really understand what's going on. At five and two they are wrapped up in their innocent worls of Thomas the train, dinosaurs, and Pokemon.
I'm going to close this journal now and dream of a day soon to come when I can be a Mommy again to my own children, and pass on the gift of motherhood to someone who I hope will cherish it as much as I do.
The soon to be mom has been so kind to me. She has made it so during those long nights when I am unable to sleep I can read one of the many books she has purchased for me, uplifting books, she says, "It's good for the babies to have you calm." She checks up on me to make sure that I'm eating everything I should. Why would she assume that I wouldn't eat properly? The stress sometimes of doing something wrong is overwelming.
Bed rest began at twenty-six weeks gestation. The contractions started as if these little guys were saying they wanted out now. Did they sense I wasn't their mother? Could they feel that this wasn't their home? The doctor gave me tocolytics and IV hydration and sent me home with instructions to not move unless I was getting up to the bathroom. "What about my children?" I asked They answered me more with a look than an answer. The look said, well, you got yourself into this, figure it out. My husband was the answer. He cooked, cleaned, and brought the kids to daycare before he went to work. Did he ever wonder what I was thinking when I said "Honey, I love being pregnant, how about we help an infertile couple?" He's not a complainer, which is helpful because if he was I'm not sure what I would do with myself.
I'm wondering if these days go on forever just to make me think that this pregnancy will. Don't get me wrong; I'm excited to see these little ones that I have gotten to know in a way that is more like a passing acquaintance than anything maternal. I could be the aunt...Aunt Carrie. That sounds just right.
Their father is a kind man, around fifty-one, a pulmonary doctor, who has very kind eyes and weeps every time he sees me. He has a lovely spirit that I find myself drawn to. There is a part of me that knows we are not in their league. I am not an educated women, my husband is a chef who could write cookbooks with Emeril Lagasse but our finacial status does not compare to theirs. I often think of becoming a nurse, sitting here with my hands on my engorged abdomen. I think, why can't I become a nurse? I have a supportive husband, we're done having our children. Then something shifts in me and I change my constantly fleeting mind. No one in my family went to college, this is a ridiculous dream.
I feel the babies moving all the time now. They are growing big and our weekly ultrasounds show them to be getting closer. I am getting increasingly excited to see their parents faces when they arrive. I think about how their birth will be. Will I have a cesarean section or will I have them natural like my children? I'm not that concerned as long as in the end everyone is happy and healthy. It's important that their mom is happy, I see the way she looks at me sometimes. She has such a deep sadness in her that I pray will vanish once she see her children.
I can hear my little ones running around downstairs as I sit here in the little nest that I have created waiting for the grand due date. I will see these children as they grow, their parents have promised us this. My own little ones don't really understand what's going on. At five and two they are wrapped up in their innocent worls of Thomas the train, dinosaurs, and Pokemon.
I'm going to close this journal now and dream of a day soon to come when I can be a Mommy again to my own children, and pass on the gift of motherhood to someone who I hope will cherish it as much as I do.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
The next stage
I'm wondering when it actually happened. When did I go from mother of four; up in the early morning with constant ear infections, water requests, "just a little story mom", snuggle time, disney movies, three year old tantrums, to...becoming a grandmother? Yes, it's exciting to say the least but also a bit shall I say unreal? Surreal?
The idea of becoming a grandmother at 41 is a bit banana's but in the best possible way. Like eating a banana spit with extra chocolate sauce, and then not having to work out for hours from quilt. I'm looking on the bright side, I'm young, I'll be the cool hip Grandma that knows all about pop culture but without trying to hard to attain the title, cool. I'll go by Grandma, not Carrie. Why do people do that? Is it that their thinking that going by their name doesn't make it so? Do they think father time will just stop the clock if they declare themselves by anything other then what they are.What ever, that's their choice but I'm going to rock the Grandma title.
Did I tell you it's a boy! I can already guess at what he'll look like, he'll have this amazing combo of my son and his mother.He'll have this little nose and big blue eyes, he'll maybe love dinasaurs as much as his father, he may sing like a broadway star like his mother. He may just be something entirely different but that's what's so exciting about life, it's fun to guess, but better to actually let time happen. Let your child or grandchild become who they probably already are when their still in the womb, and gladly be able to bear witness to it.
The idea of becoming a grandmother at 41 is a bit banana's but in the best possible way. Like eating a banana spit with extra chocolate sauce, and then not having to work out for hours from quilt. I'm looking on the bright side, I'm young, I'll be the cool hip Grandma that knows all about pop culture but without trying to hard to attain the title, cool. I'll go by Grandma, not Carrie. Why do people do that? Is it that their thinking that going by their name doesn't make it so? Do they think father time will just stop the clock if they declare themselves by anything other then what they are.What ever, that's their choice but I'm going to rock the Grandma title.
Did I tell you it's a boy! I can already guess at what he'll look like, he'll have this amazing combo of my son and his mother.He'll have this little nose and big blue eyes, he'll maybe love dinasaurs as much as his father, he may sing like a broadway star like his mother. He may just be something entirely different but that's what's so exciting about life, it's fun to guess, but better to actually let time happen. Let your child or grandchild become who they probably already are when their still in the womb, and gladly be able to bear witness to it.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Guest blogger! Very moving story...a must read!
A Village of Love: Overcoming Cancer and Embracing Life
I’m sure you have heard the expression that it takes a village to raise a child. It’s a saying I truly came to trust during my struggle to overcome cancer after the birth of my first child. My family and I were surrounded by a village of loving relationships.
My daughter Lily was born August 4, 2005, after a mostly uneventful pregnancy. Our village of love at once surrounded us. My parents, my husband’s family, and many, many friends came by to meet our Lily and wish us well. Things were going great. Nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.
Within a month of returning to work full time, things began to go downhill for me. I started feeling tired, breathless, with no energy. These symptoms could all be attributed to being a new mom; still I felt that something was really wrong. On November 21, 2005, just 3 1/2 short months after Lily came into our lives, I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma, a cancer in the lining of the lung, caused primarily by asbestos exposure. I had unknowingly been exposed to asbestos as a child. Some 30 years later, I was diagnosed with mesothelioma. I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I looked at my husband and daughter and knew I must do something to save my life.
The treatment option that I chose was the most drastic available, a surgery called extrapleural pneumenectomy that required the removal of my left lung. My husband and I flew to Boston and I had the surgery performed on February 2, 2005. I then spent 18 days recovering in the hospital, with another 2 months recovery before starting chemotherapy and then radiation.
Meanwhile, Lily lived with my parents in South Dakota. They had their own village of loving friends that came out to help them. Young married women that I used to babysit for when I was a teen, volunteered to babysit for Lily while my parents worked full time. Churchgoers, who I grew up with in my hometown, surrounded my parents with love and support. My baby girl learned to eat her first foods and roll and scoot around.
Back in Boston, we made new friends and surrounded ourselves with amazing people going through the same cancer ordeal. We managed each day through the support and love of people surrounding us. I watched my daughter's progress through grainy black and white copies of pictures my mom emailed and my husband printed off on a community printer for me. My nurses would come and check on the new pictures and ooh and aah over her, just like I did, while trying not to cry. She was the reason I was there. She was the reason I was fighting for my life. She was in the best hands possible.
Now, years later, I embrace what life throws at me. I really believe this quote: “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.” As dire as my diagnosis of cancer was, part of the good that came from it was a village of love that helped me to become the grateful person I am today.
I’m sure you have heard the expression that it takes a village to raise a child. It’s a saying I truly came to trust during my struggle to overcome cancer after the birth of my first child. My family and I were surrounded by a village of loving relationships.
My daughter Lily was born August 4, 2005, after a mostly uneventful pregnancy. Our village of love at once surrounded us. My parents, my husband’s family, and many, many friends came by to meet our Lily and wish us well. Things were going great. Nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.
Within a month of returning to work full time, things began to go downhill for me. I started feeling tired, breathless, with no energy. These symptoms could all be attributed to being a new mom; still I felt that something was really wrong. On November 21, 2005, just 3 1/2 short months after Lily came into our lives, I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma, a cancer in the lining of the lung, caused primarily by asbestos exposure. I had unknowingly been exposed to asbestos as a child. Some 30 years later, I was diagnosed with mesothelioma. I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I looked at my husband and daughter and knew I must do something to save my life.
The treatment option that I chose was the most drastic available, a surgery called extrapleural pneumenectomy that required the removal of my left lung. My husband and I flew to Boston and I had the surgery performed on February 2, 2005. I then spent 18 days recovering in the hospital, with another 2 months recovery before starting chemotherapy and then radiation.
Meanwhile, Lily lived with my parents in South Dakota. They had their own village of loving friends that came out to help them. Young married women that I used to babysit for when I was a teen, volunteered to babysit for Lily while my parents worked full time. Churchgoers, who I grew up with in my hometown, surrounded my parents with love and support. My baby girl learned to eat her first foods and roll and scoot around.
Back in Boston, we made new friends and surrounded ourselves with amazing people going through the same cancer ordeal. We managed each day through the support and love of people surrounding us. I watched my daughter's progress through grainy black and white copies of pictures my mom emailed and my husband printed off on a community printer for me. My nurses would come and check on the new pictures and ooh and aah over her, just like I did, while trying not to cry. She was the reason I was there. She was the reason I was fighting for my life. She was in the best hands possible.
Now, years later, I embrace what life throws at me. I really believe this quote: “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.” As dire as my diagnosis of cancer was, part of the good that came from it was a village of love that helped me to become the grateful person I am today.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Marilyn...what a suprise
I recently watched the movie "My Week with Marilyn" starring Michelle Williams, most of you have probably heard of it or seen it. Michelle Williams got an Oscar nod for her performance of Marilyn Monroe based on two books by Colin Clark. What's relevent for me about this is how interested I quickly became on the life of Marilyn Monroe. Never before did I pay much notice to her life. In fact she died in 1962 many years before my birth but what struck me in the film was all the mental illness that plaqued her.
The film pushed me to run out and get the best reviewed biography to date on Marilyn Monroe, The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe, written by J. Randy Taraborrelli. I haven't been able to put it down (except of course to study for finals.). So why does she interest me? As stated earlier it's her mental illness that made her so vulnurable and mysterious that on my further "investigation" makes her a legend. Of course she was beautiful, that's clear but it wasn't her beauty. That doens't impress me, although she used her beauty to her full advantage. It's that she managed to pull herself up the ladder with for the most part a full blown mental illness that (at the point in the book that I'm at) was never properly diagnosed. Her mother and grandmother as well suffered, her mother Gladys who was in and out of state hospitals for depression and various other mental illness epidodes.
Again, I go back to my own life as most of us do when something touches us. Both Marilyn's grandmother and mother appeared to have had postpartum depression which if not diagnosed and treated can turn into major depressive disorder. My own mother has mental illness as well as some other family members. I myself suffered from postpartum depression from my second child on, I knew enough about what was going on with myself; since as stated many times in my blog women's health has always been an important subject for me and prior to nursing school I read everything I could get my hands on regarding pregnany, birth, and the postpartum period.
What is endearing to me about Marilyn or maybe I should say what I connect to is how much I can relate to her childhood experiences. Of course I have no idea what her fame felt like, I can appreciate if not feel a total bond with her over our similar experiences. Mental illness needs to be viewed as much more than someone feeling a bit sad. It can ruin lives, not just the one afflicted but a whole family. Some how our county needs to look over our whole mental health system. People get lost in the shuffle of the cost of health care, kids get lost because when they look into their parent's eyes and all they see is darkness. It's a domino affect as well as a biological one. Clearly, we can see that when we look at Marilyn Monroe's family line.Just food for thought....
The film pushed me to run out and get the best reviewed biography to date on Marilyn Monroe, The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe, written by J. Randy Taraborrelli. I haven't been able to put it down (except of course to study for finals.). So why does she interest me? As stated earlier it's her mental illness that made her so vulnurable and mysterious that on my further "investigation" makes her a legend. Of course she was beautiful, that's clear but it wasn't her beauty. That doens't impress me, although she used her beauty to her full advantage. It's that she managed to pull herself up the ladder with for the most part a full blown mental illness that (at the point in the book that I'm at) was never properly diagnosed. Her mother and grandmother as well suffered, her mother Gladys who was in and out of state hospitals for depression and various other mental illness epidodes.
Again, I go back to my own life as most of us do when something touches us. Both Marilyn's grandmother and mother appeared to have had postpartum depression which if not diagnosed and treated can turn into major depressive disorder. My own mother has mental illness as well as some other family members. I myself suffered from postpartum depression from my second child on, I knew enough about what was going on with myself; since as stated many times in my blog women's health has always been an important subject for me and prior to nursing school I read everything I could get my hands on regarding pregnany, birth, and the postpartum period.
What is endearing to me about Marilyn or maybe I should say what I connect to is how much I can relate to her childhood experiences. Of course I have no idea what her fame felt like, I can appreciate if not feel a total bond with her over our similar experiences. Mental illness needs to be viewed as much more than someone feeling a bit sad. It can ruin lives, not just the one afflicted but a whole family. Some how our county needs to look over our whole mental health system. People get lost in the shuffle of the cost of health care, kids get lost because when they look into their parent's eyes and all they see is darkness. It's a domino affect as well as a biological one. Clearly, we can see that when we look at Marilyn Monroe's family line.Just food for thought....
Saturday, April 21, 2012
It's off to work I go
I've been thinking a lot about my career. Well, I don't like to sound formal, I've been thinking a lot about my job. I'm back in school going for my BSN in nursing. I have my RN so this isn't as big a leep as the latter. Non the less it's a quest I'm on and I'm enjoying it greatly. I'm taking a major certification this summer and going for my IBCLC, which means I'm going to be a lactation consultant. Lactation education and assistance is a major part of my job so no big leep except paying the 550.00 for the exam. My question to myself is...then what? Do I just sit back and enjoy my life? Relish the fine art of relaxation? Maybe vacation a bit more? Or do I go on and get my masters in nursing and teach? My family would say, in the most supportive tone, "Mom/Hon, it's totally up to you!" Giving emphasis to the "totally". My 80's girl has to come out sometime!
I recently went to a baby shower for one of our midwives at "The Birthplace", I arrived and looked at all the women who followed the same path I did. These are the women that I see at night, every night and we back each other up with everything we have.We know what the other needs sometimes without even asking. We share magical moments together, and we get to do this! We actually get paid to do this amazing thing we do. Support, assist ,educate, and care for women and their families in labor and the postpartum period. So once I was out of my reviere I thought their wasn't a doubt in my mind that these women are an extension of my family. We ended the party with a blessing for the newest birthplace arrival, we all lite a candle and said a blessing a wish for the midwife and the new life inside her. It was an incredable day.
So now I'm not going to speak of any particular night at work but I must say that just the environment at our little birthplace would make the most uptight/conservative person warm and fuzzy. My friends and fellow RN's love, breath, and live birth. We're good at what we do and it shows in our patients faces. Becoming a nurse was no short of a miracle for me. Being raised by a very sick grandmother and a very mentally unstable mother it would have looked bleak for me way back in my childhood. But, I believe nursing was a drive and I wasn't going to be held back from that. What ever I decide to do after I get this degree I do know one thing, caring for women and their families is my future.
I recently went to a baby shower for one of our midwives at "The Birthplace", I arrived and looked at all the women who followed the same path I did. These are the women that I see at night, every night and we back each other up with everything we have.We know what the other needs sometimes without even asking. We share magical moments together, and we get to do this! We actually get paid to do this amazing thing we do. Support, assist ,educate, and care for women and their families in labor and the postpartum period. So once I was out of my reviere I thought their wasn't a doubt in my mind that these women are an extension of my family. We ended the party with a blessing for the newest birthplace arrival, we all lite a candle and said a blessing a wish for the midwife and the new life inside her. It was an incredable day.
So now I'm not going to speak of any particular night at work but I must say that just the environment at our little birthplace would make the most uptight/conservative person warm and fuzzy. My friends and fellow RN's love, breath, and live birth. We're good at what we do and it shows in our patients faces. Becoming a nurse was no short of a miracle for me. Being raised by a very sick grandmother and a very mentally unstable mother it would have looked bleak for me way back in my childhood. But, I believe nursing was a drive and I wasn't going to be held back from that. What ever I decide to do after I get this degree I do know one thing, caring for women and their families is my future.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
My Happy Ending
Recently I've been thinking I would like to be a surrogate mother again. It's been something I've been considering for about a year now. I recently contacted an agency thinking, why not? I am considered AMA-which is advanced maternal age but again I thought, I love being pregnant, I've loved every experience I've had healthy babies and a healthy me!
So I went ahead and discussed it with Tom, who if you haven't read all my blog posts is the most amazing husband for EVER considering just one surrogacy. His reaction, "Are you kidding me?"; "Haven't you had enough"! At this point I have to add this was in no way unsupportive. If I really intend on going forward he would go along with it, smile and still be willing to go out for my midnight Ben and Jerry runs...which usually hit me during my second trimester.
So I went ahead and discussed it with the kids. Again; not exactly for it but not 100% against it either. They have seen the joy we've all brought to all of our families lives and get it. My children are open minded, they understand what this all entails but still would put on their smiley face and run out at midnight and get me my Ben and Jerry's, (except Sam of course who can't drive yet).
I also had to consider my extended family in NJ, what would they think? I'm Aiden and Rose's biological mother, and not only that, I am "Mommy" to them. I'm not just a nameless surrogate who they never see. I'm in their life and wouldn't want it any other way. The guys have morphed into a sort of surrogate family for me. They have given me and my family unconditional love and I had to ask myself if another couple in the mix may mess up this perfect cadence that we've all found together.
In conclusion, I have decided not only would I be psych ward admission worthy if I went through with it but my family deserves to have me completely present. My husband deserves a wife that isn't vomiting, growing in size, irritable, and the biggest part not crying for weeks/months after delivery. My children deserve me fully.
And last but not least, I could absolutely never top my experience with Presley and Michael, Rose was my magical birth. Aiden and Rose were my happy ending.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Whitney
This week has been a week of losses. We've lost our beloved Whitney Houston who was the backdrop for my youth. I would go to our local teen center and dance to all her hits, I would be in my sixteen year old bedroom with all my Michael Jackson posters covering my walls and just sing along with her hits. I of course thought I was transforming my voice into something that resembled hers, to any witness in my home who I would assume was downstairs turning up the television as to block out my complete deafening version of "I Want to Dance With Somebody". It didn't matter to me, I had my perm, my leg warmers, and my music. When I heard of her death I was shocked. I of course like most of society knew of her history of addiction, but it was still huge emptiness that seemed to fill the air.
This week everywhere I look I see her on the cover of magazines and on the television. I hope that people will remember her voice , her spirit, and her remarkable mark she left on the music industry.
This week everywhere I look I see her on the cover of magazines and on the television. I hope that people will remember her voice , her spirit, and her remarkable mark she left on the music industry.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Just a thought
With all my pregnancy's I knew within day's of conception that I was pregnant. Isn't it incredible that as women our bodies are capable of growing life. While we're going about our lives not even aware of the timing that our little lima bean size creations begin to beat their little hearts. I'm at peace when I'm growing a baby, It seems to me that I'm in a constant child's pose position. No wonder pregnancy has been so appealing to me.
I see this look on all my patient's faces the second they see their child's face for the first time. It say's to me, I knew you all this time and you were so worth the wait. Who know's their children better than their mother? An understatement would be to say that we worry about our children from that day that we see the blue line on our pregnancy test to the moment that we take our last breath. It's what we do and are biologically set up that way.
The other day I was bringing my younger son to school when he said to me "Soon, Mom you won't have to bring me to school I'll just drive myself." A brief moment of panic crossed through every nerve in my body. How can he be old enough? Will he be responsible enough to get behind a wheel? He's to young! , I remember having insomnia over my oldest son getting his license just having the worst thoughts run through my mind. Now three years later I never stop worrying but I can sleep through the night. We never stop being a parent, we don't punch a time clock and are automatically off duty. This is what makes life worth living, our family...our children.
I see this look on all my patient's faces the second they see their child's face for the first time. It say's to me, I knew you all this time and you were so worth the wait. Who know's their children better than their mother? An understatement would be to say that we worry about our children from that day that we see the blue line on our pregnancy test to the moment that we take our last breath. It's what we do and are biologically set up that way.
The other day I was bringing my younger son to school when he said to me "Soon, Mom you won't have to bring me to school I'll just drive myself." A brief moment of panic crossed through every nerve in my body. How can he be old enough? Will he be responsible enough to get behind a wheel? He's to young! , I remember having insomnia over my oldest son getting his license just having the worst thoughts run through my mind. Now three years later I never stop worrying but I can sleep through the night. We never stop being a parent, we don't punch a time clock and are automatically off duty. This is what makes life worth living, our family...our children.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tom
Tom and I are planning a trip to Puerto Rico in June to celebrate out 20th anniversary. How is it possible that it's been twenty years? He's my solid ground, my rock. The man I met twenty-one years ago has seen me through it all. I mean really, can you imagine saying to your husband, "Hey hon, I'd like to have someone else's child. Oh, and here's the catch, you have to deal with my moods, my labor, my postpartum, breastfeeding, and hearing me talk about the whole experience for the rest of your life!" Quite literally he's the most amazing person I know.
The father of my children, a husband that is romantic (a lot more than myself), a chef, and don't get mad a me girls but...he does the laundry. Sometimes I still feel like we're on our first date, and I want to totally take advantage of him. He makes me laugh, he makes me push myself. I had always wanted to be a nurse, and honestly without his encouragement I'm not sure I would have.
I can't wait to go to Puerto Rico!
The father of my children, a husband that is romantic (a lot more than myself), a chef, and don't get mad a me girls but...he does the laundry. Sometimes I still feel like we're on our first date, and I want to totally take advantage of him. He makes me laugh, he makes me push myself. I had always wanted to be a nurse, and honestly without his encouragement I'm not sure I would have.
I can't wait to go to Puerto Rico!
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Family, Friends, and Baby
This past week one of my dearest friends had her eighth baby. I was honored to be a part of the birth, a bystander, a mere witness to this lovely moment. This was her second baby for Jake and Kaze, who interestly are the close friends of Rose and Aiden's dads. It's perfect, Presley and I helped match them; we helped them find each other. Piper was looking for a couple to help and there they were. We helped create a family, where only a couple existed. Her birth was controlled and enegizing. Jake and Kaze, having stepped out into the hallway to stretch had thought they had hours to spare when Piper looked over at me and said, "Where are they guys?", "get them now." they stepped back in a two pushes later Cate was born. She was the most quiet infant, alert and wide eyed.
This perfect baby, was born and it felt like the world stopped. All I could think was, "this little one is an addition to this unique family that we're a part of." Her two year old brother Davis was overwelmed by her little feature's and kept claiming her as, "My sister...", not in a bossy kind of way, just in a matter of fact kind of way. The guys were silent as they held each other and wept tears of joy at the first sight of there daughter. I thought, no one outside of our little cacoon, would understand the integrate dynamics of all of this. This is by far one of the most complicated family/friend combinations out there, but it works.
Presley was texting me prior to my arrival at the hospital and after, looking for the stats as they unfolded, not in an obtrusive kind of way, but as a loving friend. I'm planning a Jan. visit to see Aiden and Rose, Jake and Kaze live close to "my guys",so I'm hoping to bring Piper down so she can relax in the car and we can process her birth and maybe fantazise about watching our kids grow up, together.
This perfect baby, was born and it felt like the world stopped. All I could think was, "this little one is an addition to this unique family that we're a part of." Her two year old brother Davis was overwelmed by her little feature's and kept claiming her as, "My sister...", not in a bossy kind of way, just in a matter of fact kind of way. The guys were silent as they held each other and wept tears of joy at the first sight of there daughter. I thought, no one outside of our little cacoon, would understand the integrate dynamics of all of this. This is by far one of the most complicated family/friend combinations out there, but it works.
Presley was texting me prior to my arrival at the hospital and after, looking for the stats as they unfolded, not in an obtrusive kind of way, but as a loving friend. I'm planning a Jan. visit to see Aiden and Rose, Jake and Kaze live close to "my guys",so I'm hoping to bring Piper down so she can relax in the car and we can process her birth and maybe fantazise about watching our kids grow up, together.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
2011
The end of the year is almost here and I have to admit I'm looking forward to 2011 slipping away quietly. The year had it's challenges, but; what I did learn from it is this, the moment you conceive a child they are their own little person. You may feel as though this bundle is just an extension of yourself but truly they are unique beings who were their true selves before even taking their first breath.
We can guide our children to make the right choices, but it's up to them to take what lessons you gave them and grow. My children are remarkable, sometimes maddening, sometimes mesmerizing. I can just sit and watch them, a bystander in awe of what I created.
My oldest turned nineteen this year. He has a girlfriend and doesn't yet know what he wants to do with his life.He'll figure it out but I know that after years of trying to direct him; it's his turn to take wheel. My fifteen year old continues to suprise me, he looks at me and I just can't help noticing how mature he's become. The girls are now 24 and 22. They're still children in my eyes, although I'm slowing evolving to the fact that they are young adults who make their own choices in life, because that's how it goes. Individual people, my lesson for 2011 is it's time for me to cut the umbilical cord and let them be who they were meant to be.
We can guide our children to make the right choices, but it's up to them to take what lessons you gave them and grow. My children are remarkable, sometimes maddening, sometimes mesmerizing. I can just sit and watch them, a bystander in awe of what I created.
My oldest turned nineteen this year. He has a girlfriend and doesn't yet know what he wants to do with his life.He'll figure it out but I know that after years of trying to direct him; it's his turn to take wheel. My fifteen year old continues to suprise me, he looks at me and I just can't help noticing how mature he's become. The girls are now 24 and 22. They're still children in my eyes, although I'm slowing evolving to the fact that they are young adults who make their own choices in life, because that's how it goes. Individual people, my lesson for 2011 is it's time for me to cut the umbilical cord and let them be who they were meant to be.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
1989
I graduated High School in 1989, oh how I loved the 80's. What's not to love, permed hair, scrunchy socks, and of course my beloved grandmother. It was a crazy time in my life, the thrill of approaching adulthood mixed with feeling of remorse over a childhood that would slip away at any moment. At this time in my life my grandmother (who for all intense and purpose raised me) was dying of a emphysema a miserable life sucking lung disease. She was a smoker, but I've never been one to blame the smoker. You see I'm as antismoking as you can possibly get, but I'll tell you anyone that had ever met my grandmother (Rosie) would tell you she needed a vice. She had some troubled children, as well as a troubled spouse. They didn't mean to be, they just were. They were an interesting bunch, my family. In the Lahoski (my maiden name) household their was always yelling, smoking, and the most guttural tight mucous filled cough you can imagine coming from my grandparents room. She fought for air every waking moments those last years of her life, I believe in some ways she fought for me. She knew how much I needed her then, in some ways I always will. Who doesn't need a parent?
My grandmother never finished High School, she went off to babysit to send money home to her poor parents, than came her husband and family of five; four boys and my mother. It's a familiar story to most, poor women meets love of her life, settles down to raise a family than a disaster strikes. My grandfather was diagnosed with a mental illness. To this day I'm not sure if he was diagnosed as having major depressive disorder or bipolar. Doesn't matter either way at this point, a mental illness tears apart a family. Someone whom you love with all your heart turns into someone you and they don't recognize. It's funny what you remember as a child, I remember him being in his room all the time, except when he was up at 3am percolating his coffee and making eggs. He had a warm smile that crept up and made all the yelling that proceded in the day tolerable. That or I didn't know any different. The yelling didn't usually come from my grandparents but from one of their adult children. Looking back I can strongly attest that several of them had a mental illness of their own. Was it from growing up with a father in and out of mental wards or was it simply genetics?
My childhood had high points. My grandfather calling me in hours before "The Wizard Of Oz" started to make sure that I wouldn't miss it. My grandmother's delicious polish food. If your wondering where my mother was she was there as well. She I believe just hadn't matured enough to be a mother, she was stuck at age 14. Stuck in her time warp of counting to make sure things were all there, counting to make sure that her world doesn't fall apart if she doesn't count to the magic number. Mental illness tears apart families.
My grandmother never finished High School, she went off to babysit to send money home to her poor parents, than came her husband and family of five; four boys and my mother. It's a familiar story to most, poor women meets love of her life, settles down to raise a family than a disaster strikes. My grandfather was diagnosed with a mental illness. To this day I'm not sure if he was diagnosed as having major depressive disorder or bipolar. Doesn't matter either way at this point, a mental illness tears apart a family. Someone whom you love with all your heart turns into someone you and they don't recognize. It's funny what you remember as a child, I remember him being in his room all the time, except when he was up at 3am percolating his coffee and making eggs. He had a warm smile that crept up and made all the yelling that proceded in the day tolerable. That or I didn't know any different. The yelling didn't usually come from my grandparents but from one of their adult children. Looking back I can strongly attest that several of them had a mental illness of their own. Was it from growing up with a father in and out of mental wards or was it simply genetics?
My childhood had high points. My grandfather calling me in hours before "The Wizard Of Oz" started to make sure that I wouldn't miss it. My grandmother's delicious polish food. If your wondering where my mother was she was there as well. She I believe just hadn't matured enough to be a mother, she was stuck at age 14. Stuck in her time warp of counting to make sure things were all there, counting to make sure that her world doesn't fall apart if she doesn't count to the magic number. Mental illness tears apart families.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Three!
My beautiful Rose turned three this week. I went to see the guys this past weekend in New Jersey to celebrate her birthday. There home filled with beautiful antiques that the children seem to not care about was also filled with Disney character's for the special day. "Mommy!", I heard when I entered the house. Sam my fourteen year old and his friend came along to celebrate the occasion. Rose who has a perfect mix of her Dad and myself, looks at me as if I am always there. Her brown softly curled hair up in pigtails. Her world is complete. She has her Dads and brothers who fill her world with everything she needs, and she has me.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
My perfect birth
The day began like any other. Isn't that how most important days start? I woke up, showered, than I got all dolled up for my baby shower. My close coworkers and friends were throwing me a shower of sorts. It was actually a shower to show their support and love for what I was doing. It wasn't exactly to get the baby tons of sweet outfits, no diaper cakes for me that day, it was a day that was just for me. I arrived at my friend Kate's home, a spread of unbelievable yummy food was spread out on her dining room table, smiling faces greeted me everywhere. The fun spin on this day was my friend Kate was also pregnant with her second baby, Piper was pregnant with her surrogate baby, and my friend Wendy, yup also pregnant with a surrogate baby. We took the best belly picture that day. All four of us lined up grinning ear to ear.
I received this lovely basket of rich body butters, lotions, and the warmest pink bathrobe I ever owned. I ate lavender cake that was made from scratch from another one of my closest work friends. It was simply a perfect event.
Then I went home, called Michael and Presley to tell them all about my day. No, I said in answer to Presley's question, any labor signs? It had been a pretty quiet day as far as contractions went, I was 39 weeks pregnant and since all my other babies were close to their due date if not over due I felt confident in telling them it could be another week or two even. We hung up the phone, I went about my day. Next thing on my to do list, pick up Sam from school. I had Tom come with me, he was home from work and I wanted his company. That's when the contractions started. They came with a vengence. All the way home (which was all of five minutes) I remember thinking, this can't be real labor. I always need some help getting my babies out. Some sort of interventions are needed. We arrived home, and I told Tom I was going to soak in the tub. He asked if he should call Michael and Presley. No, I responded, I think this may be false labor, let's give it some time. Time was the one thing I didn't have. I got in the tub and the contractions didn't slow down, they got stronger and longer. This I knew well was true labor. Call the guys I said, I hope they can make it! Tom called Presley's cell phone, no answer. He called their home phone, he got their nanny Katherine on the phone. Panic in her voice she said, I'll find him!
I decided not to wait much longer. I could tell I was dilating fast. I told Tom we had to go, and very quickly. Their were minor details like, Tom was waiting for his pizza to be delivered and wanted to wait a bit for it (on his behalf my labors are always long and drawn out, he was just getting himself fueled for an expected long night). The kids were all set, Sam was at a birthday party and Britt was with Tommy getting me a new camara that decided to break at my shower.
Meanwhile Katherine got ahold of Presley who was out entertaining the boys at a Funplex. He than tried to reach Michael who never carries his cell phone. Presley called to check in but I was way to preoccupied to chat. Tom managed all the phone calls. At this point we were getting into the car, on our way to the hospital. I was in the car and could feel that it was only going to be minutes before she arrived. I told Tom to call the hospital (again I knew who was working due to my party) and said to tell them to get a birthing table ready for me and to have my midwife Maggie meet me downstairs. I think at this point Tom realized it was the real thing and he wasn't going to have to wait long. We arrived at the hospital, Maggie met me downstairs in the corridor just in time to have my water break. I didn't think I would make it up to the birthing unit, the elevator ride seemed like an eternity. I was hoping for a water birth so I was put into the magical room 308 where I had delivered all my babies. It seems so amazing to me at the time that out of all the birthing rooms I was lucky enough to have had all five of my biological babies in the same room. The tub didn't happen, I got on the bed and within 15 minutes of getting here I had pushed three times and birthed my/our beautiful baby girl. Rose screamed with a vigor that was unlike the others. She was a beautiful shade of pink and after she calmed down she looked up at me, and then started nursing. The guys were called, they missed it. They would not have made it even if they got in the car and raced the whole way. Labor was an hour and a half. She was my perfect birth.
I received this lovely basket of rich body butters, lotions, and the warmest pink bathrobe I ever owned. I ate lavender cake that was made from scratch from another one of my closest work friends. It was simply a perfect event.
Then I went home, called Michael and Presley to tell them all about my day. No, I said in answer to Presley's question, any labor signs? It had been a pretty quiet day as far as contractions went, I was 39 weeks pregnant and since all my other babies were close to their due date if not over due I felt confident in telling them it could be another week or two even. We hung up the phone, I went about my day. Next thing on my to do list, pick up Sam from school. I had Tom come with me, he was home from work and I wanted his company. That's when the contractions started. They came with a vengence. All the way home (which was all of five minutes) I remember thinking, this can't be real labor. I always need some help getting my babies out. Some sort of interventions are needed. We arrived home, and I told Tom I was going to soak in the tub. He asked if he should call Michael and Presley. No, I responded, I think this may be false labor, let's give it some time. Time was the one thing I didn't have. I got in the tub and the contractions didn't slow down, they got stronger and longer. This I knew well was true labor. Call the guys I said, I hope they can make it! Tom called Presley's cell phone, no answer. He called their home phone, he got their nanny Katherine on the phone. Panic in her voice she said, I'll find him!
I decided not to wait much longer. I could tell I was dilating fast. I told Tom we had to go, and very quickly. Their were minor details like, Tom was waiting for his pizza to be delivered and wanted to wait a bit for it (on his behalf my labors are always long and drawn out, he was just getting himself fueled for an expected long night). The kids were all set, Sam was at a birthday party and Britt was with Tommy getting me a new camara that decided to break at my shower.
Meanwhile Katherine got ahold of Presley who was out entertaining the boys at a Funplex. He than tried to reach Michael who never carries his cell phone. Presley called to check in but I was way to preoccupied to chat. Tom managed all the phone calls. At this point we were getting into the car, on our way to the hospital. I was in the car and could feel that it was only going to be minutes before she arrived. I told Tom to call the hospital (again I knew who was working due to my party) and said to tell them to get a birthing table ready for me and to have my midwife Maggie meet me downstairs. I think at this point Tom realized it was the real thing and he wasn't going to have to wait long. We arrived at the hospital, Maggie met me downstairs in the corridor just in time to have my water break. I didn't think I would make it up to the birthing unit, the elevator ride seemed like an eternity. I was hoping for a water birth so I was put into the magical room 308 where I had delivered all my babies. It seems so amazing to me at the time that out of all the birthing rooms I was lucky enough to have had all five of my biological babies in the same room. The tub didn't happen, I got on the bed and within 15 minutes of getting here I had pushed three times and birthed my/our beautiful baby girl. Rose screamed with a vigor that was unlike the others. She was a beautiful shade of pink and after she calmed down she looked up at me, and then started nursing. The guys were called, they missed it. They would not have made it even if they got in the car and raced the whole way. Labor was an hour and a half. She was my perfect birth.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The Rosie Cruise.
We found out I was having a girl. I was overjoyed. I knew that I would be in her life, I would be able to see her grow. Her father's as you can imagine were thrilled. They had two boys and would gladly make room in their lives for some pink.
Our extended family decided to make it a point to vacation together. This particular year we went on the Rosie O'donnell cruise. I was around 28 weeks pregnant. I received the stamped approval from my OBGYN and off we went. Edward and Grace, Tom and Sam, Presely, Michael and the boys. We were planning this trip for almost a year, the excitment was palpable! I remember being the only pregnant women on a ship of primarily gay families. Our unique family unit was not out of the ordinary, in fact we were down right ordinary. I spent my days during that vacation just wishing the moments could be frozen. I cherished the babies little kicks. I looked at my belly and thought, I love this little unique family I helped create.
I remember seeing Rosie O'donnell on the ship, she smiled and chatting with her guests. She didn't seem put out by it at all, in fact she seemed to welcome the smiling families.
That trip will go down in my memory as simply beautiful. Waking up and meeting in the hallway, planning our day, seeing Aiden running down the hall calling to his Dads, "I'm going to Mommy's room!".
I have a picture from the cruise where Aiden is touching my very pregnant belly. I look at that picture every so often and think how lucky am I?!
Our extended family decided to make it a point to vacation together. This particular year we went on the Rosie O'donnell cruise. I was around 28 weeks pregnant. I received the stamped approval from my OBGYN and off we went. Edward and Grace, Tom and Sam, Presely, Michael and the boys. We were planning this trip for almost a year, the excitment was palpable! I remember being the only pregnant women on a ship of primarily gay families. Our unique family unit was not out of the ordinary, in fact we were down right ordinary. I spent my days during that vacation just wishing the moments could be frozen. I cherished the babies little kicks. I looked at my belly and thought, I love this little unique family I helped create.
I remember seeing Rosie O'donnell on the ship, she smiled and chatting with her guests. She didn't seem put out by it at all, in fact she seemed to welcome the smiling families.
That trip will go down in my memory as simply beautiful. Waking up and meeting in the hallway, planning our day, seeing Aiden running down the hall calling to his Dads, "I'm going to Mommy's room!".
I have a picture from the cruise where Aiden is touching my very pregnant belly. I look at that picture every so often and think how lucky am I?!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Hard times
It took us months to get pregnant. Presley wanted a biological child, and he needed surgery to make that happen. My own family was going through one of the hardest thing a parent can go through. A very sick child. My step daughter whom I helped raise since the early age of three was diagnosed with Crohns disease. An autoimmune disorder that affects the whole GI tract, her mouth would be covered in sores, she would have fierce stomach pains, the bathroom was her most visited room. We spent a great deal of time at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield Ma., the doctors decided to perform a colectomy on her. Which meant they were removing her large colon. She would have to have an ostomy, a man made passage to create another passage for stool. I realize this is pretty harsh stuff to read, imagine now if you were an eighteen year old girl. I spent the month at Baystate with her, I was concerned with her health but also concerned with her mental state. This was a major event in her life and she was at risk for depression.
It was during that hospital stay that I found out I was pregnant. I called the guys to share the news. Everyone was happy of course but the focus was on our child, we knew that the time would come where she was stable and we could celebrate.
I was so proud of her. She went through the three hour surgery without incident. We paced and paced. The surgeon came out and said things went well and the ostomy may be temorary. I was concerned with how she would respond to it. She would have to take care of it, where do we start? As a nurse I worked maternity, I had no idea (except for a few lectures) how to take care of an ostomy. Once she was out of recovery we went back to her hospital room, now as familiar to me as my own home, she woke up and looked under her gown. Her response was suttle. A bit of a tear formed in the corner of her eye, she seemed to notice that all eyes were on her reaction and she smiled. She knew that she had been sick for some time and this may be the start to some freedom. I watched the ostomy nurse give us instructions thinking I would be the one taking care of it for her. She insisted on doing it, and she did.
My pregnancy was in the early stages, it was a light during a dark time.
It was during that hospital stay that I found out I was pregnant. I called the guys to share the news. Everyone was happy of course but the focus was on our child, we knew that the time would come where she was stable and we could celebrate.
I was so proud of her. She went through the three hour surgery without incident. We paced and paced. The surgeon came out and said things went well and the ostomy may be temorary. I was concerned with how she would respond to it. She would have to take care of it, where do we start? As a nurse I worked maternity, I had no idea (except for a few lectures) how to take care of an ostomy. Once she was out of recovery we went back to her hospital room, now as familiar to me as my own home, she woke up and looked under her gown. Her response was suttle. A bit of a tear formed in the corner of her eye, she seemed to notice that all eyes were on her reaction and she smiled. She knew that she had been sick for some time and this may be the start to some freedom. I watched the ostomy nurse give us instructions thinking I would be the one taking care of it for her. She insisted on doing it, and she did.
My pregnancy was in the early stages, it was a light during a dark time.
Friday, July 15, 2011
How much money do you make??
I've decided to give the answer to the long awaited question. How much money do you make being a surrogate? Well....as you can imagine once you decide to be a surrogate there is compensation. That was never my concern. My concern was regarding if I couldn't work, I didn't want to put my family at risk to create a family for someone else.
So I started off researching. I felt in the pit of my stomach that this was not about the money. Let me say that again. This was NOT about the money. People ask me this ALL the time. Surrogate mothers get a bad rap, it's consistently looked at as if their selling their babies for a big wad of money. So, as you can imagine this idea, breaks my heart. We"re not SELLING our children. We are selling our time, our energy, and the losses that our family have to endure. Example: Mommy having to stay in bed for months.
Again, Not about the money. In fact I felt that the money should go to my family for being such good sports about the whole thing.
The answer to the question HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU MAKE? Is it depends. It typically ranges anywhere between 10,000 to 30,000. Not nearly what I make in a year at work. Granted they also help our with childcare, prescription, and if I am our of work they compensate my lost wages.
I have always been very sensitive on this subject..almost defensive. I love all of these children and never once thought of them as a paycheck...never.
But, people ask and I thought I should just finally make it clear. Someone once asked me if it was close to a million? I laughed. First off, I would never take that much money.
My personal reason for the surrogacy's was the help other families have children. It was also to enjoy being pregnant again. And with Presley and Michael it was the relationship I craved.
On the roll of inappropriate questions, I once had a "friend" ask me if Presley and Charlie didn't want or couldn't take the baby if I would give her the baby?!!!! What?? If something changed or something happened to them, this is my biological baby why would anyone just ask if they could have the baby?? The baby would have stayed with us. I get so many annoying questions. That being said, I love questions. About the process and how close we all are now, honestly I could talk about it all day long....
So next blog is going to be on the my last baby Rose!!
So I started off researching. I felt in the pit of my stomach that this was not about the money. Let me say that again. This was NOT about the money. People ask me this ALL the time. Surrogate mothers get a bad rap, it's consistently looked at as if their selling their babies for a big wad of money. So, as you can imagine this idea, breaks my heart. We"re not SELLING our children. We are selling our time, our energy, and the losses that our family have to endure. Example: Mommy having to stay in bed for months.
Again, Not about the money. In fact I felt that the money should go to my family for being such good sports about the whole thing.
The answer to the question HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU MAKE? Is it depends. It typically ranges anywhere between 10,000 to 30,000. Not nearly what I make in a year at work. Granted they also help our with childcare, prescription, and if I am our of work they compensate my lost wages.
I have always been very sensitive on this subject..almost defensive. I love all of these children and never once thought of them as a paycheck...never.
But, people ask and I thought I should just finally make it clear. Someone once asked me if it was close to a million? I laughed. First off, I would never take that much money.
My personal reason for the surrogacy's was the help other families have children. It was also to enjoy being pregnant again. And with Presley and Michael it was the relationship I craved.
On the roll of inappropriate questions, I once had a "friend" ask me if Presley and Charlie didn't want or couldn't take the baby if I would give her the baby?!!!! What?? If something changed or something happened to them, this is my biological baby why would anyone just ask if they could have the baby?? The baby would have stayed with us. I get so many annoying questions. That being said, I love questions. About the process and how close we all are now, honestly I could talk about it all day long....
So next blog is going to be on the my last baby Rose!!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Routine
We got into a routine, daily calls, daily phone pics, monthly visits. I needed this schedule to keep my sanity. We would end a visit and we would be planning our next. It was comfortable, like mid winter sitting by the fire with your cozy wool socks on. Of course we traded trips, one month I would go there, the next here. It seemed to be working, but it was a bit draining.
The first visit was to their house. I hadn't driven there by myself yet, and being only a few weeks postpartum I didn't want to start now. I took the train in ending in Grand Central Station in NYC. Presley met me at the station. I got into his car and he gave me a warm smile. A genuine happiness flooded his face. He stated to me that he had been concerned about my depression, to the point that he called Tom privately to talk about it. Tom assured him that, yes this was a different situation but I always have struggled with Postpartum depression. He explained that with support from everyone I would be fine.This fact made my face heat up, I was touched that they were concerned about me. I was thrilled that they weren't thinking I was this crazy women who wanted her baby back. That was never it. I missed him, he was a part of me, I was his mother, but they were his parents. They were his home.
That first visit Aiden was only a few weeks old. Their full time nanny was their when I arrived. She was holding him and quickly brought him over to me. Their nanny Kate, has always encouraged the correct vocabulary with the kids. Example, Look how he's smiling at Mommy". Again, reassuring my role in their lives. I was still breastfeeding at this time, and I was anxious to see if he would latch. He did right away, and although he needed a bottle to top him off, I was overjoyed that I could still give him the milk, I wished I could pump for him full time. During our visits Aiden would sleep with me, at least during one point of the night.
We all went out to a restaurant with some friends of the guys. The waitress came around, who they seemed to know. She asked who's beautiful baby is that? Presley with a large warm smile, looked at me and said, "Well, that's his mother.", She had known about the pregnancy and congratulated the three of us. It was a proud moment.
Goodbyes are always the toughest part of our relationship. I have to get myself psyched up for it. During this visit (later visits I just drive down and it seems less stressful) I held it together, I nursed him and thought, In one month he may not want to nurse. But, I would continue to pump some breast milk for him. That was a bitter sweet moment. I remember it being rushed because of my departure time. But, wanting the moment to just keep running like a record that plays the same song over and over. You know, your favorite song you could listen to again and again.
We said our goodbyes and made our next date. We also had to start planning. They wanted another baby.
The first visit was to their house. I hadn't driven there by myself yet, and being only a few weeks postpartum I didn't want to start now. I took the train in ending in Grand Central Station in NYC. Presley met me at the station. I got into his car and he gave me a warm smile. A genuine happiness flooded his face. He stated to me that he had been concerned about my depression, to the point that he called Tom privately to talk about it. Tom assured him that, yes this was a different situation but I always have struggled with Postpartum depression. He explained that with support from everyone I would be fine.This fact made my face heat up, I was touched that they were concerned about me. I was thrilled that they weren't thinking I was this crazy women who wanted her baby back. That was never it. I missed him, he was a part of me, I was his mother, but they were his parents. They were his home.
That first visit Aiden was only a few weeks old. Their full time nanny was their when I arrived. She was holding him and quickly brought him over to me. Their nanny Kate, has always encouraged the correct vocabulary with the kids. Example, Look how he's smiling at Mommy". Again, reassuring my role in their lives. I was still breastfeeding at this time, and I was anxious to see if he would latch. He did right away, and although he needed a bottle to top him off, I was overjoyed that I could still give him the milk, I wished I could pump for him full time. During our visits Aiden would sleep with me, at least during one point of the night.
We all went out to a restaurant with some friends of the guys. The waitress came around, who they seemed to know. She asked who's beautiful baby is that? Presley with a large warm smile, looked at me and said, "Well, that's his mother.", She had known about the pregnancy and congratulated the three of us. It was a proud moment.
Goodbyes are always the toughest part of our relationship. I have to get myself psyched up for it. During this visit (later visits I just drive down and it seems less stressful) I held it together, I nursed him and thought, In one month he may not want to nurse. But, I would continue to pump some breast milk for him. That was a bitter sweet moment. I remember it being rushed because of my departure time. But, wanting the moment to just keep running like a record that plays the same song over and over. You know, your favorite song you could listen to again and again.
We said our goodbyes and made our next date. We also had to start planning. They wanted another baby.
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