How can I talk about just how excited I am about my baby that I’ve never met, someone else had to carry for me and who I never thought I’d have?
I can’t be part of conversations about trimesters, feeling baby move or kick for the first time. I have no frame of reference for what most women accept as a given.
I am excited. Maybe even more excited than A kid that’s about to enter the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory. I have her names picked out, her clothes are freshly washed, she has tiny little diapers, fresh new bottles with formula and soft toys waiting for her.
What I probably wish for more than anything is that she would look at me the way my cat does, with adoring eyes. I hope her eyes are blue like mine when I’m happy, or blue-grey like mine when I’m sad. I hope she dons my signature dark curls and high cheekbones. I wouldn’t even mind if she inherits my volatile temper. Most importantly, I hope she is healthy.
My journey may have ended (almost) but I will never forget the almost 6 years of treatments to get to this very moment. I will never forget the river of tears burning my cheeks or that my husband stayed.
Just because I didn’t carry her…
Just the other day one of our neighbours in the complex started chatting to me. She finally put 2-and-2 together that when we say our baby is due in November we really meant due through surrogacy – because it is quite obvious my stomach is flat. The association then jumped to Lexa must’ve been a very unhappy baby because she no longer heard the heartbeat of the woman that carried her – and that we should consider recording the surrogate’s heartbeat for the new baby.
I know she meant well, but… I don’t want to hear it. My baby will get used to my heartbeat. She will, because it was my heart that willed her to life. Mine.
Your little girl is going to love you from the first second she sees you. Babies feel love and you clearly love this little girl so much- she will love you at first sight. Please keep us updated- she is almost here x x
Thinking of you. I can’t wait to see her as well.
You and me both!
It’s really touchy story thanks for sharing your journey and talk about what always stay between closed doors.?
🙂 Nothing is taboo anymore
My daughter was five when her mom died, and I married her dad when she was six. She has clear memories of her birth mother, but I’m her only mom. We love each other, fight with each other, and miss each other like any other mother and daughter. I know my experience is different from yours, but I wanted to share it because I just know that children need the mother they have. We (adults) are the ones that complicate things, IMO.
Families come to us in different ways and you were lucky to have found a little star to love 🙂