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

Did you know that Nebraska was the only state that has a unicameral legislature (Meaning only one chamber, instead of the usual state Senate and House)?

Also, the state that gave birth to both Kool Aid and Warren Buffett also boasts the largest Czech-American population (as a percentage of the total population) in the nation.

And you probably weren’t aware of these important laws in the Cornhusker State:

If a child burps during church, his parent may be arrested.
 
Doughnut holes may not be sold

It is Illegal to go whale fishing.

It is illegal for bar owners to sell beer unless they are simultaneously brewing a kettle of soup.

It is illegal for a mother to give her daughter a perm without a state license.
 
Sneezing or burping is illegal during a church service.
 
A man is not allowed to run around with a shaved chest.
 
Barbers are forbidden from eating onions between 7 AM and Noon.

Maybe not as stinky as a barber with onion breath, but Nebraska’s legal stance on gestational surrogacy smells to high heavens as well.

Nebraska law declares compensated surrogacy agreements void and unenforceable, but it is possible that the law would uphold uncompensated agreements. In 2002, the Nebraska Supreme Court declared that state law does not permit “two non-married persons to adopt a minor child, no matter how qualified they are.” One can infer from such a decision that a Nebraska court might look unfavorably upon a surrogacy agreement involving lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender individuals.

 

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Well, that certainly explains a few things……

In other maternity news, Michelle was thrilled to learn that the precious little kidney-kicker she is carrying now weighs in at — 8 pounds!

He’s officially a Whopper!


Sent to my co-workers today:

Our 9-month long adventure is just about over. Thank goodness, too, because this devil spawn kid is on the verge of overstaying his welcome. Given the 24/7 demolition derby going on inside Michelle,  I predict his future career choice will be:

A)     Blacksmith

B)      NASCAR driver that likes to swap paint

C)      Crash test dummy

D)     Philly fan who enjoys running onto the field during a game

 So this is a heads up that I’ll be tethered to my cell phone, on alert for the ‘It’s go time’ call. When you hear my new ringtone of the song ‘Having my Baby’, well you’ll know what’s up.

 (Hey: Can I get that song at CD Baby?)

 This afternoon I’m out around 2:15. Going to watch her Doc do one of these amazing 3-D ultrasounds. I understand you can see every nook/cranny/detail of the child-to-be, including his preference for boxers or briefs, Coke or Pepsi, and future political leanings.


Yet another blatant theft generous sampling of passages from the instant classic best seller, What To Expect When You’re Expected, by America’s newest funny man David Javerbaum. It’s already a must-read for every developing fetus out there!

MONTH 8 — ALLOW 6 TO 8 WEEKS FOR DELIVERY

In a little over a month, you will have the monopoly on cuteness in your family. (Older siblings? Their charm mortgage forecloses the second your head pokes through.) But for now, your parents are adorable! You should see them together in your room — painting, planning, arranging itsy-bitsy furniture,  having ‘serious’ talks about ‘budgets’ and ‘sharing the responsibility.’ Just like real grown-ups! And the things they come up with! Just now, Mommy said, “You won’t complain about alternating night feedings, will you?” And then Daddy said, “Of course not. I will relish that bonding time.” Oh, if only they could stay that naive!

BEST WEEKS EVER 32-35

Week 32

You are a goddamn lazy-ass. Look at you, sleeping 90 to 93 percent of the time. When are you going to do something with your life? Mommy’s ribs ain’t gonna kick themselves.

Week 35

You’re feeling cramped in there, and no wonder. You’re five pounds of carne in a three-pound empanada. And a lot that meat ain’t exactly lean. You’re up to 15% body fat, and you’re getting chubbier by the hour. But your brain is developing at an astonishing rate. Putting all your energy into your mind and not your body, huh? All right, Poindexter. Just don’t come crying to us when the jocks release greased pigs in the Tri-Lam frat! NERRRRRRRRRRRRRD!

PREGNANCY AND THE INTERNET: THE WORLD WIDE WOMB

The internet is a miraculous parallel universe in which every conceivable fact or opinion is simultaneously true, false, and related to Katie Holmes. This is certainly true in the field of obstetrics. A few short centuries ago, women’s understanding of pregnancy derived largely from what little alarmist, contradictory, spiteful hearsay they painstakingly pieced together over the course of their lives. Now, thanks to the miracle that is the World Wide Web, all that hearsay can be found at the click of a button.

Here are some common  Pregnancy Chat-Room Abbreviations:

IVF                 In vitro fertilization
OMG               Oh My gynecologist
TTC                 Trying to conceive
TTCHSB         Trying to conceive, husband shooting blanks
SHJWIDTHWTSF     Shit, he just walked in; don’t tell him what that stood for
SAHM           Stay at home mom
WAHM         Work at home mom
RAHM          Obama’s chief of staff
LOL               Lots of lactating
LMAO          Lactating my ass off
ORTFLMAO   Rolling on the floor, lactating my ass off
IMHO          I miss having orgasms
2wp             2 weeks pregnant
2mp            2 months pregnant
2yp              I am an African elephant
TWDB          Typing while delivering baby


No way. No way in hell that Michelle goes another month before this baby pops out.

I mean, cmon…take a look at her:

 She’s READY!

Alright, that’s not really Michelle. We’ll be shooting some pics this weekend to remember this special period in her life…and mine. And I’ll be making my typical rude comments about needing a wide angle lens to get it all in.

But we’re finally at the point where the end is in sight. It could really happen at any moment. Michelle has a small overnight bag packed and sitting by the door, ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’m carrying around my cellphone with me everywhere at work because I’ll never know when ‘the call’ is coming. And that would be a first.

I wonder if we’ll actually get to live out that traditional “rush her to the hospital because she’s in labor’ thing. As you know, we’ve traveled down this road before. Twice in fact. But in both cases, our girls had to be…well, encouraged….to join us in this world.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Michelle was 10 months pregnant with our first child, Emma. She was three weeks overdue when her doctor finally said we needed to induce her. THREE WEEKS! Emma was practically walking and talking when she was born.

With Sara it wasn’t quite as drawn out. In fact Michelle still thinks her doctor got the dates mixed up and actually had her induced a week early. But there we were again, with a date and time scheduled for her birth.

Will this time be different? Will I get the panicked call from Michelle, telling me her water broke in the middle of Lowes and I need to come rescue her?  Or maybe it will be in the middle of the night when this little boy decides he’s tired of using Michelle’s kidney for a punching bag, and he’s ready to join the human race.


Three places I never ever EVER expected to be in this lifetime:

A) Sharing a bag of pork rinds with Queen Elizabeth in Buckingham Palace.

B) On the pitchers mound of Citizen’s Bank Park, World Series Game 7, Bottom of the ninth, two out….

C) Touring a maternity ward as a 50 year old guy with my pregnant wife.

And yet there we were last weekend at our local hospital, St. Mary’s, getting the lay of the land. Preggo Land, that is. I can report that not a whole lot has changed in baby-delivering technology or aesthetics in the past 14 years, or so it appears to me.

(A long aside:  I was about to refer to myself in the sentence above as…this expectant Dad. But that’s not right. That’s not my title here. I’m neither the Dad. Nor am I expectant.

So as I’m typing this, I ask Michelle across the room: What the hell am I. Her response.

“You’re my… Labor Coach. My Number One Supporter. My Number One Cheerleader,” she said. Obviously she’s having a hard time coming up with my role.

“You are….making sure the job gets done. You’re seeing this to the end! You’re…..” She gave up. Gotta come up with something. And soon!)

Back to the tour: Michelle and I inspected the place on a recent Saturday afternoon. St Mary’s is about 5 minutes down the road from us and was the obvious choice for the big event. The hospital gives tours only once a week, so we were herded through the rooms with two other Moms-to-be and their entourage. All of us looked a bit weary, especially the rotund females. All of them, including Michelle, looked like they were ready to drop their loads right then and there.

While the facility itself seems a little dated, the attentive staff members we met more than compensated for a less than state-of the-art feel of the place. They happily answered every question tossed their way, including my wife’s one and only question:

“Is alcohol allowed in the delivery room?” 

For the past few weeks, Michelle has been focusing on getting through the rigors of labor by visualizing having a glass of very good champaign after the deed is done. “None of the cheap crap,” she’s told me. “No ‘Andre’ or ‘Cold Duck'”.

If that’s how she keeps her eye on the prize….so be it.

For the record, Michelle got the anwer she was looking for.  The nurses on duty said champaign would be fine….”as long as you share with us.”

It was a pretty brief tour — the materity ward was almost full up that weekend. Everything seemed ultra organized and arranged in logical way, with the birthing rooms just steps away from the NICU, C-Section Operating Rooms, and just a short walk to the Post Delivery rooms and, finally, the  nursery.

It was at that final stop that I’ll remember most about this Saturday afternoon. The nursery was almost empty — all the babies had been taken to be with their Moms. But there was one tiny little child still in the unit, and the nurse on duty rolled her over to the windows for the group to view.

I looked over to see Michelle’s eyes welling up with tears.

Uh oh.


Michelle speaks:

Near the end of the journey. Currently 34 weeks, and so far so good.

Getting more and more uncomfortable and sleeping less and less, but I guess that it normal and to be expected.  I dont know how I am going to feel once this is all over, empty?  A void? Normal?

The life inside me is a strong kicker and likes to dance a lot especially when I drive.  Very distracting. 

Another thought that hits me is this is the last tiime that I can be this fat.  All of my skinny clothes are waiting for me and expecting me to put them on very soon……as does my husband. 

There are a lot of things I wasn,t prepared for or could have thought of way in advance, like being so out of breath and tired just from walking up a flight of stairs, or dropping something on the ground and letting it stay there because its too hard to pick it up.

My family has been so great helping around the house, and always asking if there is anything they can do to help……what a blessing.  This journey was to help another couple make their dreams come true but it also made us stonger as a married couple, closer as a family. On top of that, now we have new friends that we share a truly special bond and we will all love, nurture and watch this little boy grow up totally surrounded by those who cared enough to bring  him into the world.  I dont know how the majority of other surrogate/intended parent relationships go, but this one may be too good to be true.

With only a few weeks to go I am anxious about the birth, the unknown, the hows, the pain and the what happens after.  We as a family have a very busy summer, fall and winter planned. I do look forward to getting back on my feet, amping up my business, and rewarding my family for all of their support through this journey of love.