Gestational Surrogacy Meets March Madness

 

I warned you this would happen.

March Madness — my favorite time of year. Otherwise known as the NCAA Basketball Tournament, I’ve enjoyed this wonderful four weeks of frenzy since….well forever. So many awesome memories associated with it.

Watching games with my Dad on a grainy B&W television as John Wooden’s UCLA teams defined the meaning of a true  ’sports dynasty’. Attending two Final Fours in person, perched in the extreme nose bleed section of that cement tomb otherwise known as the Seattle Kingdome.

So what does March Madness have to do with Gestational Surrogacy? Well everything of course, at least in my warped mind. Because this month of basketball passion and pagentry is about living the dream. Striving for that ultimate goal. To truly call yourself: Number one.

So back to surrogacy: If you had the chance to pick the Number One male….and female….to create the ultimate embryo to be implanted into a surrogate….who would that be?

Ronald Reagan and Margret Thatcher? Albert Einstein and Madame Curie? How about Andy Warhol and Janice Joplin, pre-1960s drug habit?

See where I’m going here? The possibilities are almost too much to comprehend. How could you possibly arrive at the Final Two?

Well, the answer is quite simple: Using an imaginery tournament set up and run by a blogger with way too much time on his hands!

Welcome to GuestWomb’s Field of 64. This is more like two tourneys in one, with 32 men and 32 women vying for the honor to produce the ultimate surrogate child.

So here’s how it works. The Selection Committee — consisting of myself, a surprisingly agreeable Michelle and my equally warped daughter Emma — have chosen the Field of 64. Thirty two men on one side of the bracket, and 32 women on the other time. We’ve grouped them by categories — sports legends, famous politicians, stars and starletts, etc. Plus a smattering of wildcard entrants who really don’t fit into any one box.

Who’s eligible to be selected? The criteria is pretty wide open. Men and women — and even those who are still trying to figure out which column they fit — of any time period. Dead or alive. Even fictional characters are allowed. Remember this is truly the Dream Team, the ultimate Gestational Surrogacy pairing for all time!

(Notice I didn’t refer to this pairing as necessarily the Best and the Brightest.  Once you see the nominees you’ll see why.)

Did we make the right choices? You’ll soon see. I expect a lot of comments on our selection. Who should have made the list. Who shouldn’t be included. (Carrot Top?!?! Really?) Yes. Really. 

Now that the Selection Committee has made its choice, I’ll then rank them — or in tourney speak, give them seeds. The top ranked entry — or No. 1 seek — will be matched up against the lowest person. So it’ll be No 1 vs. No. 16, then No. 2 vs. No. 15, and so on. Both the men’s and women’s draw will have two 16 ‘team’ regionals or bracksts, just like the real deal.

And just like the NCAAs, we’ll play them off every week or so. We’ll be down to the Sweet 16 by the end of this weekend. The Elite 8 will follow next week, leading into the Final Four. Finally we’ll come up with the utlimate surrogacy pairing and ponder what kind of child this team would produce.

So as we count down the weeks towards our real end game, this should provide a fun diversion to watching Michelle living a little bit larger every day.

Lets get this party started! First up will be the top left bracket on the Men’s Field, sixteen nominees composed of male sports figures, politicians and business leaders.  We’ll call it the John Edwards Regional Bracket!

(IMPORTANT NOTE — This post and more to follow are not meant to minimize or belittle the amazing miracle that is gestational surrogacy. I think my previous 73 posts show my respect and awe for this journey. But c’mon folks, a guy can only write so much about the comings and goings of Michelle’s uterus.

Also: Per the laws of the Commonwealth of Pennyslvania, this bracket is not intended for gambling purposes.) 

 

The Perfect Gift?

Our wedding anniversary is coming up — on April 4 to be exact. Ah, 18 continually blissful, calm, placid, stress-free years together as a family..

OK, even I had to roll my eyes over that one.

Despite our ups and downs — with a few loop-de-loops thrown in for good measure – we’ve beaten the odds and made it almost two decades as man and wife. Which begs the age old question:

What’s the perfect anniversary gift for the woman who was made pregnant by another man? (And another woman too, if you’re keeping score at home)

Anyone have a suggestion?

 

The Rewards Of NO Responsibility

My last post talked about what I’ll be missing out on in 16 years. This post is what I won’t be missing out on in a few weeks.

I’ve been a huge Conan O’Brien fan for years. Always regretted that I never got tickets when he was doing his Late Night gig just up the road in New York City. Then he moved to LA to take on the Tonight Show….and we all know what happened next.

Fast forward to today, as I was scanning the internets. There was a blurb about Conan taking  his act on the road while he is barred from being on TV. Checking the tour schedule….YES! He’s going to be in Atlantic City on May 30. My credit card number was already punched in when…………… I remembered.

Oh crap. Michelle’s due date. May 26.

And here’s the place — right HERE — where being the ‘surrogate’ and not the ‘intended parent’ has its advantages.

Because assuming Michelle is on schedule….. the Conan show is just four days after the big event.

Barb and Michelle, the intended parents, will be spending all their time getting to know the newest member of their family. Talk about ‘Late Night’ gigs.

Meanwhile, Michelle will be on her way to Atlantic City, hoisting a few glasses of champaign, laughing at CoCo’s antics.

 

The Reward Of Responsibility

In about 16 years — give or take a tolerant attitude — our IPs will be doing the exact same thing I’m doing right now.

It’s 11:30 p.m. on a Thursday night. I’ve just gotten home from dropping off my oldest daughter Emma at a midnight movie premiere of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. Months before the movie was due to be released, I had promised my 16-year old that she and her good friend Tresier – both of them huge Tim Burton fans — could go see the movie on opening night. As it turned out, it’s opening on a school night. But a promise is a promise, and so I’m back home waiting until 2 a.m. to pick them up. Normally I’m a pretty strict parent, but this one time I’m going to let her skip school tomorrow.

So as I brew some coffee and attempt to stay awake another two hours, I’ve got some very quiet time to reflect on my current parenting role. And the role I’m going to miss out on with the child currently taking up more and more space inside Michelle. When this little one is Emma’s age, someone else — our IPs Barb and Michelle — will be the ones keeping the promise to let them stay out late. (Probably to view the latest in the Harry Potter saga, number 24 when middle aged Harry and his wizard friends do battle with the greatest enemy of all – the Dreaded Curse of Male Pattern Baldness!)

As the weeks go by, and Michelle’s due date actually starts to come within view, I’ll be spending more time reflecting on just how … different….this journey has been. This experience has been a lot of things so far.

Rewarding. Fascinating. Fulfilling.

But it’s also been strange. Foreign. Awkward at times. And sometimes just flat out weird. Even a feeling of emptiness at what — or in this case — does not lie ahead.

Now that’s something I did not expect.

From my vantage point, it’s been almost all positive. Course I’m not the one gobbling up Tums like they’re M&Ms, or having my internal organs used for soccer practice during all hours of the day and night. But now I find myself noticing how different things are going to be with this pregnancy, especially the final act. Most of all the differences in my own thinking. 

Sixteen years ago I was watching Michelle’s belly swell up at about the same rate as my worries and headaches. ‘Holy shit,’ I remember thinking, ‘My pretty much carefree life as I know it is over. (There’s a shocking GuestWomb entry to come on this topic. Brace yourself kids – but you were pretty much all your Mom’s idea. Sorry to break it to you)

While I might not have been ready for this change, I certainly didn’t shrink from my responsiblities then or now. And that’s what it really meant to me:  Life was to be all about the responsibilities.

Focusing on keeping the roof over our heads, the wife and kid (and soon to be kids) clothed and fed. Praying that everyone stayed healthy through doctor appointments. Nursery school and kindergarten. Braces. And on and on. Saving for college. Paying for weddings. A lot of it was panicky headtrash that seemed overwhelming at the time.

And yet all the responsibility for the little soul currently in residence somewhere east of Michelle’s spleen lies elsewhere. It’s Barb and Michelle, the IPs, that will assume all the burden and more.  They’ll be the ones shaking their heads at how expensive 5 years of braces can be. They’ll be worrying about making sure their boy gets into Honors Classes to make a better impression on college admissions committees.

They’ll be the ones waiting up until 2 a.m. like I am tonight.

Am I going to miss that? Maybe so. Because while Michelle takes the credit for prodding me into becoming a family man, being a parent has been the most rewarding part of my life.  Even those daunting responsibilities that caused sleepless nights so many years ago bring only a smile to my face.

 

What Brings You Here? Weirdness.

I knew this journey was going to be full of surprises. But here’s one that I really didn’t expect: I’ve found a new guilty pleasure.

It’s keeping score of the blog. In other words, watching the trickle of folks come and go into the site. This blog is created in WordPress and they’ve got a pretty nifty dashboard that lets me see all kinds of stats and numbers. I go up there 3-4 times a day to view the scoreboard.

Which is pretty silly because the traffic is more like a two lane dirt road in the middle of Nevada than a street scene in midtown Manhattan. But it’s slowly growing.

The charts go from just a couple of people wandering in. Then some more. And a few more. And now it’s a pretty steady stream everyday. My traffic. My audience. And it’s nice to know that my words are becoming a part of a few people’s day.

Most of the people who come upon this place are because of my participation in others’ blogs, adding comments or messages with my web link. But more than a few have literally stumbled upon this place by doing Google searches. WordPress actually records what search term people are using to click into GuestWomb. So this abridged list below are actual search terms from Google that brought people to my site:

• Guest Womb. GuestWomb. Guestwomb.com Yep. This must be my Mom, forgetting the name of the site.
• Gestational Surrogacy. Surrogacy. Sure, all those make sense.
• Tila Tequilla. Tila Pregnant. Tila Tequilla Smoking Yeah, those Tila updates have been popular.
• Embarrassing Facebook Pictures. Hm.
• Mexican Mowing Lawn. What?
• Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, courtney
• Surrogacy Horror Stories. Horror Stories of Surrogacy. Well, hopefully not.
• Funny Man Mowing Grass Images.
• Electromicroscope.
• “Bobs Mail Order” sample. Scratching head.
• Baseball Throwing Yips
• It is illegal to paint sparrows to sell. I should hope so.
• Michigan law wife’s hair. Uh, ok. I hope they found what they needed on GuestWomb.
• Bear stained glass.
• Scariest Roller Coaster. Well, maybe.
• Lollipops banned in washington state
• Oldest Dallas cowboys cheerleader girl. Would that be Courtney?
• Virginia law tickle woman
• Pimp suit
• Paris Hilton baby photo. Oh please God no.
• Misdeeds. You’ve come to the right place.
• Ted Kaczynski timeline.
• Illegal fishbowl on bus

And I’m not making this up:

• Baby pic with big dick.

Stealing a line from a famous internet author:

Yep, these are my readers.

 

After Guest Womb

The fact of the matter is — we can see the finish line. Yeah, it’s still 13 weeks off, but the days are flying by. (Well, they are for me. Michelle might have a slightly different take).

I’ve always been the kind of person who looks downstream, straining to see what’s around the next bend. Is it rapids? Is it a long slow shallow. Or is that faint yet growing roar going to Niagra Falls!

My eyes stray to the horizon not because I’m bored or unhappy with where I’m at. It’s usually just the opposite, as it is now. Michelle’s journey has been rewarding in a surprising number of ways and we’ve focused on making the most of this challenge. Dare I say I’ll be sad when it’s over? Maybe.

No, I just like to know what’s next — and what are my options?  I’m a world-class ‘muller’, and you can usually find me sifting dozens of things over in my noggin in the background.

In fact, let’s take a current inventory of the things that are churning in the sub-routines of my mind while most of my brain is engaged elsewhere:

I know I can lose that 25 lbs. and do an old guys basketball league next fall….like I’ve vowed to do the last 10 years. (Back when it was 10 lbs. and it was a not-so-old league).

If I move my spatula fast enough, could I really make scrambled eggs on the BBQ?

That useless dog. Why can’t I train him to run out and get the newspaper in the morning? Yeah, if the paper came wrapped in bacon.

And why are all my subconscious thoughts revolving around FOOD in some way? Stupid company weight loss challenge.

In fact about the only non-food related thought crossed my mind lately is this: What come after GuestWomb.com? When all the contracting-pushing-beathing-screaming-it’s-a-baby-boy-crying is all through…. what’s next?

Do I really try to package this amazing story into a book? Backfill it with more content from the IPs — which we haven’t explored in any detail here. Add back in all the really juicy content that would make a book sales zoom. (WAS TIGER WOODS REALLY THE FATHER?!?!) Find an editor who could hold his/her nose and really whip it into shape? And then trawl for a publisher who might want to take a risk on a promising, not so young writer?

Or am I content to simply leave this wonderful tale on this cyber platform, add any postscripts this summer that might give it closer and then just let it float in the ether.

The one thing I’m sure won’t happen after GuestWomb — to become a fulltime surrogacy commentator. I’ve encountered some simply amazing people in the blogosphere who have made surrogacy issues practically their life’s work. My hat is off to them — they’re performing a great service to those wanting to explore this world. But when this kid is safely launched into the world….I’m done with this topic.

As you can tell on your first glance at GuestWomb, this blog is ANYTHING but a ‘how-to’ guide to this journey. It’s much more of a “OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT HAS SHE GONE AND DONE PLEASE HELP ME” kind of narrative.

Or will THIS blog spur me on to write something that doesn’t involve Michelle’s private parts. Maybe even blogs that go something like this.

I don’t know just yet. But if you see a faraway look in my eyes during a meeting — or heaven forbid during tomorrow morning’s rush hour — you’ll know that I’ll be thinking about the possibilities.

Or pondering this eternal question:

What doesn’t go well with bacon?

 

BREAKING NEWS: Legal Update In Wash. State

GuestWomb will try to take credit for this, too.

In the very best tradition of Steven Colbert: Score one for GuestWomb!

Lawmakers in the state of Washington have succumbed to the pressure of humiliation and scorn, arising from their recent lampooning in GuestWomb.com:

State House says paid surrogacy should be legal

Women in Washington should be allowed to collect money for becoming surrogate mothers, the state House decided Monday.

By BRIAN EVERSTINE

The Associated Press

OLYMPIA — Women in Washington should be allowed to collect money for becoming surrogate mothers, the state House decided Monday. On a 59-39 vote, lawmakers approved a bill that would allow women be paid for serving as a “gestational surrogate” — meaning they carry a child, but are not its biological mother.

Under the bill, House Bill 2793, surrogates would have to be at least 21 and have previously given birth to a child. Additional requirements include obtaining medical coverage for the pregnancy and immediately after birth, passing mental and physical examinations, and signing a written consent form. Prospective parents also would have to meet certain requirements, including a mental health evaluation and an affidavit from a doctor attesting to a medical need for surrogacy. Gay and lesbian couples, however, wouldn’t need a doctor’s certification.

Just as I was beginning to think that Washington’s lawmakers are a progressive bunch, the story takes a decided turn to the absurd:

Opponents of the bill said introducing money into the decision raises a risk of women becoming “factories” to carry children.

“Money is often a crucial factor that would cause a woman to hire out her body,” said Rep. Norma Smith, R-Clinton. “Will these women have no identity apart from being a suitcase to carry a developing infant? How far will they be pushed into invisibility as a surrogate?”

Ha. Surrogates pushed into invisibility. That’s a good one. Hasn’t she read this?

Why do I suspect Ms. Smith is a Sarah Palin supporter?

In other Washington state law:

It is illegal to pretend that one’s parents are rich.

It is illegal to buy a mattress on Sunday.

It is  illegal to sleep in an outhouse without the owner’s permission.

In Spokane, Wash., it used to be illegal to interrupt a religious meeting by having a horse race. Thankfully, this onerous law has been repealed.

 

Gestational Valentine

My wife said she looked long and hard to come up with just the right Valentine’s message this year. Something like:

I love it that you’re letting me have another man’s baby.

Unfortunately Hallmark doesn’t seem to stock that theme…

 

Q & A with E & S, Part 3

The latest installment of a reoccurring feature of GuestWomb where my daughters Emma and Sara get together on a Facebook chat about the topic of the day. Today the teens share a few thoughts on the current state of affairs:

Emma
So now that Mom has only two months to go, I’m a little less weirded out by her pregnancy. Maybe it’s because soon it will be over or something. What about you?

Sara
i think shes transformed into a beautiful butterfly….with the baby in all…

Emma
sara seriously

Sara
hahaha she doesnt act pregneant, well except the excessive crying, she still shovels snow and takes a hammer to knock off tile for the bathroom to redone and such.

she reaaaally shouldnt do that

Emma
Yeah, putting extra stress on herself and the baby is probably not good. But what about now that she’s showing?

Sara
what about it?

Emma
well, the whole baby kicking thing is so freaky!! I never really thought about the baby so much as mom just going through the pregnancy, but now that you can actually feel it, it’s much more real.

Sara
agreed, i dont think of it as weird..

Emma
Why not?

Sara
i actually support her through this, and so at the beggining i thought this was another one of her little imaginations that would never go through, but its really happening and i dont even think of this as uncommon how bout you?

Emma
I still think it’s a little strange. I mean, I’ll say to my friends something about mom being pregnant, they say, “Congrats!” and then I tell them its not hers, and a lot of them dont get it.

Sara
a lot of people dont get it

i have to explain from Baby Mama (the movie)

Emma
haha same!

 

Making Me Look REAL Bad

This could have been me.

I so love Michelle’s hardy pioneer woman spirit that I’ve chronicled before right here.

But sometimes…it drives me batshit crazy. Especially this week during our Snowmageddon event that dumped about three feet of snow in our Bucks County backyard.

So here’s the story. It was day two of this epic snow event, and our regular snow plow guy had failed to show up to take care of our driveway. To folks who have seen our place, you know this isn’t the kind of driveway that can be cleared in an hour or two of hard shoveling. It’s wraps around our house in a U shape, angling down from the main road at an incline of about 15 percent. All told about 150 yards long from end to end.

We called a CraigsList ad to find another guy who could push the snow off, and while we waited for him to show up,  I went outside to start digging our way out of the house. I had implored Michelle to stay inside and take it easy. She assured me that she was fine, and she’d just do a little bit to picking away at the snow near our mailbox. I just shook my head and shrugged.

Michelle being Michelle. After 18 years of marriage, I knew there was no hope of stopping her.

As I learned later, Michelle was chipping away at the snow when a snowplow crew in a big rig drove by slowly. “You need some help?”, they shouted to her. Michelle gave them the thumbs up and they turned into the drive. As she negotiated a price, she just happened to mention she was seven months pregnant and couldn’t do all the driveway.

I can imagine the shock on their faces at hearing this news, and the team quickly put their rig into gear and attacked the snow, roaring down the driveway with their blade smashing the mountain of icy stuff into submission.

Meanwhile….at the bottom of the driveway, I was sitting down and taking a short rest, tired out from spending a half hour trying to dig out our cars from the avalanche.

As the snow plow gang came barreling around the corner they spotted me sitting on the car bumper. And they let me have it:

“Dude, why are you letting your pregnant wife shovel snow!”

“Man I would NEVER let my 7 month pregnant wife lift a shovel!”

And a few more even more rude statements.

I manage to sputter a few words to my defense but it was no use. My protests fell on deaf ears as they plowed and scowled at me.

Plowed and scowled.

So while I may be a supportive husband, loving father and all around decent guy to most folks…I am the worst person in the world to three mouthy snow plow guys.