Tila Tequilla, left, pre-Internet. At right, second only to Paris Hilton on this blog’s “Most Utterly Useless Person” chart.

Emphasis on the word “party” of course. Because our newest entrant in the ‘Let’s Have A Baby For Somebody Else’ sweepstakes is none other than internet non-personality, Tila Tequilla.

According to various sources, including her own erratic Twitter Feed, the self-made reality starlet announced that she’s says giving the gift of life for Christmas as a surrogate mother for her brother and his wife.

“That is my xmas present to them. I’m pregnant!!!!” Tequilla wrote.

Of course this could all be another publicity stunt. Because just last summer Tequilla started rumors that she was pregnant in a late night Twitter post — which she quickly retracted, probably because someone told her swigging her namesake drink or doing drugs while with child is a big no-no. She must have forgotten that little detail when she agreed to take on this 9-month job.

Tequilla is best known for creating her own importance through collecting ten zillion friends on the formerly-popular site My Space (You DO remember My Space, don’t you? That was Facebook with training wheels).

Once that schtick ran dry, she hosted her own MTV reality/dating/affront to human intelligence show called “Shot at Love” where her bisexuality was played to the hilt.

Now if only Lindsey and Courtney Love can find it in their hearts to do this unselfish act, surrogacy could finally come out of the closet and find its way onto Entertainment Tonight, the E Channel and the gossip tabloids where it belongs! 

Please stay tuned to GuestWomb.com for every late breaking news flash on Tequilla and her own very special surrogacy journey.

Less than a week after the New York Times’ article depicting the darker side of surrogacy arrangements, I found this in my Google alert:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VcxbAgrWMc

It’s an honest account of surrogacy that does a better job in presenting what I believe to be the norm of surrogacies, rather than the exceptions noted in that much-commented upon article.

I say “honest’ because Gina Scanlon — a two time surrogacy veteran – talks briefly on the video about two very different relationships she has with her sets of IPs. She’s an ‘aunt’ to one child, and completely cut off from the other and that saddens her.

And yet despite that heartache…and the invasive tests, drugs and all the rest….she talks about her joy in delivering up a true miracle. “It’s the most amazing thing,” she says.

What I’m discovering as I read more blogs and websites dealing this the subject: Surrogacy is no picnic. A happy ending is not guaranteed. But thoses who approach it with a good heart and intentions usually find happiness at the end of nine months.

Another in our series of posts highlighting the laws of the land in our 50 states (and one district!) in regards to Surrogacy:

From the state that produced 8 US Presidents, the Pentagon and Wayne Newton (really), we present just a few of the laws of Virginia:

Citizens must honk their horn while passing other cars.

It is illegal to tickle women.

No animal may be hunted for on Sunday with the exception of raccoons, which may be hunted until 2:00 AM.

In Culpepper, VA, No one may wash a mule on the sidewalk.

Meanwhile, over in Frederick, VA any person who owns a pool risks a $2500 fine for not closing the gate to the pool when they get done swimming in it.

And in Norfolk, women must wear a corsette after sundown and be in the company of male chaperone.  And yet, a man may face 60 days in jail for patting a woman’s derriere.

Also: Spitting on a sea gull is not tolerated.

Finally, in Waynesboro, VA it is illegal for a woman to drive a car up Main Street unless her husband is walking in front of the car waving a red flag.

Speaking of red flags: Gestational Surrogacy contracts are most unwelcome in the Old Dominion. And especially our relationship with the IPs, Barb and Michelle.

Virginia surrogacy law prohibits compensated surrogacy, as well as excluding same-sex couples from participation in surrogacy arrangements. In fact, Virginia surrogacy law mandates the intended parents be defined as a married man and woman.

It is also a criminal offense in Virginia to pay an agency or lawyer to find a surrogate. To make matters even more complex, the surrogate mother has up to 25 days after the birth to nullify the previous arrangements and keep the baby herself.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/13/us/13surrogacy.html

Basically, it’s a series of surrogacy horror stories. And the victims are ultimately the children created in these flawed pairings of IP and surrogate.

The articles depicts the stories of three surrogacy arrangements – two that seemed fine at the beginning and then devolved. And another that was just wrong from the word go. I’ll let you read the article yourself and read these very sad stories.

(I take issue with the tone of it, insinuating that babies can be to simply ‘ordered up’ as if they’re an item on a menu. Take a look at the comments from others like us who are living in this world who rip the author.)

There’s a lot of blame to go around in these tales of woe. Begining with vague and inconsistent state laws dealing with surrogacy contracts. The real villains here in my mind are the doctors, lawyers and less-than-qualified surrogacy match makers who fail to adequately do their jobs of vetting each party.

And some blame goes to the intended parents themselves. In their emotion-filled rush to simply have babies at any cost they failed to think things through.

With all the factors in play, it was as if these surrogacies were doomed to fail.

Just like every other action you take this day, there’s a right way to do things, and plenty of wrong ways. I’ve documented before how our IPs have done everything right in preparing and executing this surrogacy, and this story just reinforces it. They chose highly regarded agency — Melissa Brissman — to find us. We were painstakingly vetted in every way so that all parties felt confident in each other. 

It was all about minimizing the risk of this arrangement. Together with our IPs, we took every step to make sure this journey would stay on the path. There is just too much at stake to do anything less. Especially for this new little life!

When I read in the article that only 750 surrogacy arrangements are made in the US every year, and that some of them go tragically wrong as described in the story, it makes me feel very fortunate to know our surrogacy was ‘done right’.

8:24pmEmma — okay. I would have to say that I feel much more weirded out than I have felt in the past about this whole thing

8:25pmSarah — why?

8:27pmEmma — I think it’s because I view it, since its someone else’s egg, like she was impregnated by aliens or something out of a really freaky sci-fi movie/book. Just the thought of it sort of creeps me out. It’s like there’s something completely foreign in my mother’s body.

8:27pm Sarah —  i feel the same way i was just concerned that she was nervous, im afraid that she wants to back out now. too late now….

8:31pmEmma  — same. I have no idea what I would be feeling in her position. Scared maybe? Well, being me, and not our brave mom, I would be focusing on the negative aspects like the complications and things that could go wrong.

8:31pmSarah — exactly

8:34pmSarah  – I’m still shocked that she went through with this

8:35pmEmma  – Same. I totally thought she wouldn’t have gone through with it. Like I thought that after thinking it through, she would have backed out.

8:40pmEmma  — I think our lives are going to be pretty different if mom does become pregnant and the transfer takes.

8:41pmSarah  — yes yes it will

8:42pmEmma  — How so, do you think?

8:43pmSarah —  its going to be realy awkward to see mom pregnant, especailly when its not ours.

8:57pmEmma It definitely will be.

And here’s Michelle’s perspective:

Just a few thoughts for those of you who may consider going through an embryo trasnfer. Either for yourself…or for someone else like I’m doing:

My whole procedure was a breeze.  The nurses make you feel very comfortable and I didnt feel icky about anything.  After all, this was a possible conception, a modern miracle in the making….a product of todays incredible technology.

It really was that simple. Quick. I followed doctor’s orders to the letter. I did stay off of my feet for the rest of the day as hard as it was, because there is always something that I could be doing……Its very hard for me to stay still.

In ten days ( or earlier) we will know for sure if the transfer took and how many since 2 eggs were placed.  This is the last chance for my IP’s to have another child…..These were the last of their fertilized eggs. 

I do feel pressure for this to work out for them, but also that nature has something to say about what works and what doesnt.

They say that the hardest thing now is the waiting…….and it is.

Hopefully my next entry has good news.

Attention whores. You know who I’m talking about. You may call them something else, something more polite. But to me, they are what they are. They live only for other people noticing them, drawn to the glare of the spotlight like moths on a hot summer night.

‘Look at me,’ their clothes, piercings or tattoos scream.

‘It’s all about me, me, me’, screeches their flashy car or new face lift/boob job.

They measure their lives by the number of eyeballs trained upon them. You know them, work with them….you might live with them. In fact, you might be one. Though I doubt that, because instead of spending time reading MY blog you’d be writing your own.

Please forgive this rant about these self absorbed cretins. But I’m trying to make a point with my extreme disdain for these kinds of people and their selfish behavior. Because as Michelle begins this amazing journey, all of the attention is going to be focused on her. Rightfully so of course, because unlike your rank and file attention whore, the Blog Heroine is doing something pretty damned extraordinary. She’s going to be earning her place in the sun, basking in her well earned acclaim.

And I’ll be standing near her, slightly to the left of the center of attention. Just where I like it.

Sometimes I joke that I would have been happy having the tiny cabin next to Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber. (I can imagine myself, walking over to his tiny place, knocking on the door and asking to borrow a cup of gunpowder or whatever he was using for explosives.) I enjoy my quiet time, my alone time. In fact I require it to turn down the static of life every now and then.

And my need — or extreme lack thereof — for attention follows suit. I’m not just being modest here. The center of attention is not a place I’ve ever sought, and this even goes back to my days as a sportswriter for a small local newspaper. Sure, I enjoyed seeing my byline atop a good column or story that I worked hard to put into ink and newsprint. I found the satisfaction in telling the tale. Not in the fact that I was the narrator.

At the same time, I don’t like being the passenger on this or any ride. I don’t like being a passive observer. I want to participate; I need to be an active partner to feel like I’m doing my part. And creating GuestWomb is the very best way I can contribute to this effort.

Chronicling the story is being a part of the story.

So far, the readership of this blog constitues: 1. Not even Blog Heroine has read a word, although I’ve auditioned a few concepts for her. Even though I’m a party of one here, I want to establish on virtual paper exactly where we are.

It’s for my own organization, order or perhaps sanity. But in reality, this entire mission is about timing. Dates and places. Milestones and readings. Checks and rechecks. In other entries we’ll explore more about the process, why it must be so precise in order to make this miracle come together.

For now I’ll give the ultra brief version. Sort of like a DVD on FF>>>>.

January 2009.

Sunday Morning Show.
Michelle’s interest piqued.
Mine too, but tinged with amusement.
Cautious, exploratory phone calls.
Follow up. Faxes.
More phone calls. From screener to search expert.
Emails at a quickening pace.

February

Formal phone interviews.
Much longer questioinaire and profile
They like her; they REALLY like her.
Still no red flags. Not even a yellow one.
My amusement turns to astonishment.
Time to start the paper chase
Pregnancy records
Hospital records
Records so old that they can’t be found. (Ha.)
Sure this is going to knock her out.
But no.
Now the kids know. They are nonplussed.

March and April

Now it’s up to the Doctors
Prodding
Poking
Checking under the hood.
And still no red flags.
It’s starting become real.
Astonishment turns to acceptance. And then:
The Intended Parents (IPs) are who? What?
I share the story with a couple of people including my boss. Mild surprise to say the least.

May

Now it gets real.
A day long session at the Fertility Clinic.
First the mind probes. Well, psychological tests anyway.
Good to confirm I’m not a complete psychopath.
Then more tests for Michelle.
Yet another hurdle crossed.
And a face to face with the IPs.
It’s on. Oh, it is so on.

June

Time to get lawyered up.
25-page document that covers every eventuality.
Well, except for how to hide the perpetual look of amazement on my face that this thing contiues…
At the same time I decide to start this blog. Which may be a book.
Or a movie! (Now you know why the Brad Pitt pic is there…)
We host the IPs for a get to know each other dinner. It’s a great match.

July

 First things first. Family obligations to fulfill.
Wedding 1, then vacation.
Then Wedding 2.
Her family just doesn’t get it.
Of course, neither does mine but that’s another story.
The IPs show their patience and support.
The blog gets a name and takes shape.

 Which brings us to today. It’s mid-August and if all this seemed like some abstract idea that might or might now happen…. Well, that’s over. We’re starting to think about how this is really going to affect our day to day life.

 For instance…we’re putting our house on HomeExchange.com to see if we can find a way to stay in a European community. But…of course we can’t even plan this until. Oh, gotta count the months… Just lots of stuff like that.

 As this moves from the surreal to the real, I’m still 100% behind the idea. And Michelle? Well I’m sure she’s had a few second thoughts here and there. Especially when it comes time for her daily shots. Yeah, I said daily. What’s more…she gives it to herself.

 What, you expected me, Mr. Squeamish, to handle that job? Didn’t you read the first entry to this blog?

 It’s down to just a few days before the curtain goes up. Nine months of prep. Nine more to go. It’s the halfway point in some ways. But in all honest it’s just the beginning.

Let’s get this out of the way right now.

It’s not about the money. That’s not why Michelle is doing this.

Yes, she’s getting paid. And pretty darn well. I’m not going to reveal exactly how much because, by the terms of the contract we signed, I’m not allowed to disclose that. But the average gestational carrier receives between $18,000 and $25,000 plus expenses. They get another 5 grand if they carry twins, and even more if — god forbid — it’s triplets. And if this not their first ‘project’, they earn a substantial amount more.

But we know we’re going to get the questions and the comments. In fact, we already have.

Many in Michelle’s family think it’s for the money. That doesn’t surprise me much because frankly it’s how those folks think. It’s not a unanimous viewpoint certainly, but if they conducted a family vote I think that’s how it would go down.

But my family? Well that’s a bit of a surprise. My own sister-in-law, who’s been somewhat estranged from us, called for the first time in years after learning about it from my brother. She grilled Michelle about the situation and then pronounced herself satisfied to learn that I’m not forcing her to do it for the money. (What???)

And you’ve already read what my kids are worried about. They think their classmates will think that somehow we’re victims of the bad economy, that we’re poor, we’re going to lose our house or that we need the cash to survive.

The truth is: We don’t need it. The money is going to go straight into an account for that special trip to Italy, or that grand landscaping project that we keep meaning to do. Not a rainy day fund. But a little something to make a sunny day just a little brighter.

I make pretty good coin as a VP of Marketing for a good company in south Jersey. Michelle will be making more than me pretty soon if her Fabric Goddess home decor business continues its meteroic trajectory.

If you want some more proof, you can click here on our listing at HomeExchange.com. Our house. We’ve listed our house, trying to trade homes with a family in Europe next summer or fall. So you can see we’re not exactly living in some falling down shack.

And yet it’s an issue. I have to admit I’ve been slightly weirded out by the money aspect of it. She’s getting paid to use her body. Some people might ask: How is that different than a prostitute? Well, for one there ain’t a lot of pleasure happening here. Between all the injections and drugs today, the invasive procedures to come and that little thing called labor and giving birth….well, this is a selfless act of sacrifice. Made a little easier by monthly checks.

But the fruit of her labor makes all the difference. Growing and nurturing a life. Providing the ultimate gift to a couple who desperately want to add to their family.

If I didn’t fully understand the real reasons why Michelle is led to do this, I would have discouraged her from going through with it. No, that’s not right. I would have vetoed it. But her intentions are as honorable as can be. True and innocent. She’s been blessed with a young body and soul that can host a miracle.

Maybe I would feel better if we just donated the money. Give to a charity. To a random homeless person.

But something tells me that nine months from now, as Michelle is screaming her head off while producing a living, breathing bundle of joy, she’ll be happy knowing her trip to Tuscany is a little closer.

It comes down to this: Why is Michelle doing it? Because she can.

The 24 screen googaplex theater was almost deserted on a Monday night. This flick was way beyond its blockbuster opening weekend. But that didn’t matter to the 15-year old girl sitting beside me, concentrating intently on the screen. We were watching the latest Harry Potter movie — her second viewing of what will eventually be dozens by the time it hits Netflix.

Not for the first time I realized that my daughter Emma had grown up right alongside of this saga. In fact I see a lot of her in the characters that have helped to frame her life.

She has the heart and conviction of Harry. All of the smarts –without the haughty attitude — of Hermoine. The loyalty — and sometimes the nervousness — of Ron. A little of Snape’s secretiveness. All of Hagrid’s caring interest in animals, great and small. And what I treasure most about her — the depth and character of Dumbledore.

Not bad for a Muggle. That’s a non-wizard in J.K.Rowling’s fabulous world. What she lacks in magical ability, she makes up for it in other gifts. Especially her writing. Years ago, when most kids her age were watching TV or playing video games, Emma spent her idle hours with a notebook and pen, dreaming up vivid creative and complex fantasy stories.

The funny thing is, she never liked to actually finish a story. How appropriate because Emma is the wonderful and rare teen that doesn’t want to grow up. And that makes me so happy. In fact I’ve helped encourage that. There’s plenty of time to do grown up things when you’re a grown up. But there’s no fear in her about what lies ahead in her promising life. Nor should there be.
But now she’s about to face a situation that very few kids her age have expeienced. This girl is going to have an interesting chapter in her childhood, and she has more than a few things to say about it:

At first, I wasn’t quite sure what to think. When Mom told me her idea about the surrogacy, I had no clue what she was talking about. But when I learned, I had mixed feelings. Well, for one, I thought it was just plain weird. The thought of her carrying someone else’s baby unrelated to her in any way was so strange. I also thought of the risks she’d be taking. So many things could go wrong. But the hardest thing to explain is my overall opinion of it.

I know this whole thing is so controversial, even illegal in some states, which makes me think, really think, about it. Is it wrong or right? I’m aware that it’s a selfless act, giving a couple a baby they can’t have on their own, but I’ve always been more for people adopting kids.

Plus, since surrogates are paid, it will be weird having to tell my friends. I mean, they would think that the kid was hers, when its not. I feel like, when I actually try to explain it to someone, it sounds like my mom is just doing this for the money. It makes us sound either greedy or ultra-poor.

This is going to be so weird.