Things not to say to an expectant Mother like me

I don’t want to write this post, but at the risk of sounding whiny, bitter, and overly sensitive, I feel I must. I need to talk about the insensitive things people say that I wish they wouldn’t, and the meaningful ways you can love and support a mother who has become so by “unconventional” means. Not just for me, although it is, but for the mother like me that you will one day meet in the future. I think for many, I am the first person in their world to walk through infertility to the degree and length that I have, and to become a mother via gestational surrogacy. At least it seems that way. This means that I get splattered on a lot, gently so, but splattered none the less- by good-hearted, well-intentioned people. I need to preface this by saying 90% of the time I receive nothing but the same congratulatory love, joy, and excitement as anyone else, void of any stingers or splat. That’s why I really debated writing this post. But this week has been rough (it’s only Tuesday), and the truth is I have never felt so vulnerable and broken open before in my life. I have thick skin, but when it comes to my birth story that is soon to reach its culmination and my growing baby, I am raw. So even the seemingly small fleeting comments made without thought can sting, bad, and for way longer than I should allow.

Before I get into it, I need to say that if you’re reading this and you have made one of these comments to me, please do not feel like a burnt turd. I hold zero offense towards you and know with complete conviction your intention was never to hurt me.

“I was going to ask you ___________________ but then I remembered you aren’t pregnant.”

 Most people know I am expecting a child, but apparently there are some people who forget that I am not carrying her. So when they have the epiphany they feel the need to share that they were going to ask how I was feeling, or they were going to ask if I was sleeping okay, or they were going to ask me my birth plan but then….

Listen….I don’t care that you forgot I wasn’t pregnant, but please, you don’t need to let me know that you suddenly remembered again. I know I am not pregnant and don’t need to be reminded. And by all means, you can still ask me how I’m feeling.

“How’s your carrier/ the lady carrying your baby/the surrogate?”

You guys. She has a name, it’s Jessi, and I don’t expect you to remember that, but if you forget, ask and I’ll tell you 100x over no problem, just please use her name when inquiring about how she is doing. (She’s doing fantastic btw).

“Since you won’t be breastfeeding….”

ACTUALLY I will be. There is so much grace here because up until a few years ago, I didn’t know you could induce lactation, but guess what, you can! And I am! Something about having someone make this assumption about how I’m going to be feeding my child and my ability to do it myself just erks me. If you meet a mom who is adopting or using surrogacy, ask…don’t assume. Many mama’s like myself work super super hard pumping around the clock long before their child is even born so they can breastfeed. Give them props! Tell them they are awesome!

Now for the biggest stinger thus far….

“You’re lucky you don’t have to ________________”

You fill in the blank. Give birth, get stretch marks, gain weight….

OUCH. Big freaking ouch. This comment hurts for so many reasons. If you don’t think that I would take a fat ass, stretch marks, and a gruesome labor to have the gift of carrying my child inside of me than you’re crazy. And it's taken some tongue biting to not respond back to this comment..." you're lucky that's all you had to do!." The truth is I have endured more physical and emotional pain-through surgeries, countless pokes, prods, and invasive procedures than I care to recap on. I don’t think there is a soul on this earth that really knows the magnitude of the battle I fought for our daughter apart from my husband, and respectfully I would take a pregnancy, even a really hard one, any day over what I experienced to become a mother.  Please know, I don’t say that boastfully-this is my birth story and I am proud of my scars, the fears I conquered, and the really hard things that I did. 

I don't speak for every expectant mom in my situation, but I do speak for myself when I say I just want to be treated "normal," like any other expectant mother. I'm always open to thoughtful and genuine questions and dialogue, and never want to make people feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me as to not bring unintentional offense. And I especially don't want any mother to feel like they need to "shelter" their pregnancy or birth story from me. I would love to hear your birth story! I am all about touching your rounded stomach and feeling your little move, and I think your belly pics on Instagram are darling! I just want my story to be heard too, and what I carried to be valued. 

Lastly, if you meet a woman who is expecting a child through adoption, surrogacy, or fertility treatments, honor them, rejoice with them, tell them they are a bad ass, buy them coffee, tell them they are glowing, bring them lunch. They likely paid a high price to become a mom and deserve to bask in all the glories of expectant motherhood. 

We moved into an RV!

I don’t know if this is normal. Does everyone’s life feel like it’s moving at a seemingly constant anarchic momentum? Sometimes whimsical…often just freaking bizarre and difficult? You feeling this? I like to try and see it as a cool coming of age- indie short film kind of vibe, lots of tension, good music, and the unexpected. No, we’re not that cool. But our lives have been that eventful.

 We were both ready to nestle into something really picturesque when we got the fortunate opportunity to move back to our hometown after almost 3 years in New York City. We were looking forward to the slow life of suburbia, comfort of old friends and family, and what we thought would be a season of easy living. A nice break from the chaos we had just endured filled with surgery, fertility treatments, bad roads and air pollution. We had finally caught up on the massive debt we had incurred seeing a fertility specialist, and the end was in sight.  Now we would enjoy the fruits of our labor, use our VA loan to purchase our first home, and settle into our new life.

Yeah, things didn’t go like that.

To sum up the last year, we ended up losing the embryo we had invested our lives into creating back in New York, devastating our hopes of a baby on the way and leaving our designated “baby room” feeling really, really empty. So the pursuit continued. More fertility treatments, new hope, more loans, more debt, and ultimately, a baby on the way. Thank God. I also started my Holistic Nutrition practice and stepped right into a booming cliental! So much yin & yang here.

In the midst of all that, we discovered undisclosed black mold on our subfloor, and I got bit by a Lyme infected tick. Both of which knocked me on my ass. I haven’t quite gotten up yet.

Less than a year later from purchasing our house, we found ourselves in so much debt we could barely breathe, in a home we resented for not telling us it had mold (I mean it should have said something), and with apparent unrealized dreams of something more. Something that involved land and room to roam, a reconstructing of priorities and a rolling away of the nouns that aren’t enriching us. We want to own acres littered with eatable life and people to create community with. We want to simplify and let go and make purposeful steps towards goals we assumed would be out of reach for another decade.

What could we do to get out of debt, and at the same time take giant leaps toward our goals as a family? Well, we needed cheaper rent, ideally, no rent. Hence, selling our house was step # 1.

So we spent thousands of dollars to remediate the fungus lurking beneath us and put our house on the market. Luckily it was a great time to sell, the market was high, and we had several offers within a week. Although we are walking away with far less than we put into the house, we are grateful to not be walking away empty-handed.

Step #2- Find somewhere to live that would accommodate the two of us, a 1 year old Australian Shepherd, and soon, a newborn baby. For cheap. Really cheap.

I first considered RV living 6 years ago after reading KatieRiddle’s blog, Riddlelove. Her and her family of 7 moved into a 5^th wheel trailer with the goal of paying off debt and ultimately becoming landowners. I remember really admiring the sacrifice they were making and loving the practicality of making home somewhere a little unconventional for a while as a means to an end.

So when the question of where we would live came about, I immediately presented the idea to my husband. Hey babe let's sell all out stuff and move into an RV! He was sold.

From there things moved at lightening speed, almost strangely so. Within a few weeks of making the decision, our house was in contract, we got approved for a loan to purchase our RV, did a great deal of searching for the perfect abode within our price range, and settled on a 2006 37 ft. trailer with 2 pop outs in Woodland, CA from a really sweet couple that had maintained the trailer beautifully.

We had our new home! Our fifth one in five years of marriage. We were so excited about what it represented for us, and it already had a special place in our hearts knowing we would be bringing our baby home to this place. We had, and still have an incredible amount of peace about the place we have landed, the steps that got us here, and whatever is to precede this season. So much so that we even feel greateful for the hard things. We didnt end up living in an RV because life has been really easy 😉 But when we trace back our steps through every hurdle and "rough patch," we see the purpose. We recognize the value. That has been HUGE for us during those moments when self-pity sets in and thoughts of "are we ever going to catch a break?!" arise. 
When sharing our circumstance with Ryans aunt, and voicing out loud that very thought, she responded with, what is to this day the most helpful thing anyone has said to us in this season, "hey, i'm in my 50's and i'm still waiting for my break." It was harsh and real, and exactly what I needed. Struggling is not unique to us, we didn't pull the short straw or win the crap lottery. Life is hard, and although I welcome seasons of easy living, and I hope we see one soon, we plan on riding whatever wave tries to knock us over and have as much fun as we can doing it. 

And right now, we feel like we are exactly where we are supposed to be, and that feels really good.

More to come on life in an RV, how we are faring in 250 square feet, preparing for a baby in a small space, and what it took to make a 5^th wheel a home (WORK!).

Transfer Day!

Doing some back tracking here so I can document the sweet stuff.

Preparing for transfer day, with Jessi living out of state in Ohio, required a lot of strategy. It could have been a hot mess without the care and attention of our fertility doctor and her staff, which thankfully made the whole endeavor unravel seamlessly. Jessi worked with Aimee, our doctor here in San Ramon, via phone and email, dialing in her protocol, which included a cocktail of hormones and scheduled monitoring appointments that would take place in Ohio. These appointments mostly consisted of seeing how Jessi was responding to her medications based on the thickness of her lining, while also making sure everything was ideal for transfer (no fluid in her pelvis, etc.)

Once we nailed down a date that was best suited for transfer, we purchased Jessi’s plane tickets and shortly after she flew into SFO and landed in CA for the first time ever! We had that day to show her what we could of California’s glory. We walked around Pier 39, laughed at the sea lions, got a good glimpse of the Golden Gate bridge, and marveled at the rolling hills, all the while talking about how unreal it was that she was here, and that in just a short time we could find out we were going to be parents.

I was so nervous the next day, pacing around as we waited to leave, filled with so much angst, excitement, and expectation. When we arrived at the facility 30 minutes early, I was pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere; it was calm, colorful, and soothing. Nothing like the cold sterile environments you normally associate with medical offices. And we got called right back! We were greeted by the calm presence and loving embrace of Dr. Aimee and before I knew it we were all huddled in the procedure room about to make history.The assistants in the room were so sweet and everyone was very congratulatory, as if our baby was already known to us. There was so much love and expectation in the room, so much unity. My heart swelled and I was so thankful. I had no idea what to expect from this experience, but it ended up being so redemptive and a true gift to us.

They pulled up a magnified picture of our unthawed embryo, our shining star, on the screen. It was strange looking, almost like a bubble filled with lots of tiny bubbles inside. Or maybe a planet...something other worldly. It was abstract, and amazing, and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Seconds later, as Ryan and I held each other close, hands intertwined, we watched as our little embryo floated across the screen and into Jessi’s uterus and into our hearts, like it was floating though space, suspended by gravity. We couldn’t stop smiling.

We all felt it. We had just created life, all of us together. 

We left praying the same prayer we had been praying for years; “God please bless us with a child.”

#throwback to when Sienna was a few cells!

moments before transfer <3

Beautiful Dr. Aimee in her element.