The start of a surrogacy journey isn’t one big step, it’s a thousand little ones. Starting with decaf coffee and ending up somewhere with your legs in stirrups, surrogacy is a twisted path pebbled with obstacles.
A few weeks ago I took a trip south and met up with my Intended mother, her family, and her RE. The first real step in this journey began that day with vial after vial of blood, what seems like a gallon of pee, and a visit with the wand monkey for some ultrasounds. I took the next step down this path today, and switched out my beloved coffee for a cheap imitation of caffeinated perfection with a half-caff version. I’ve got another month to go completely decaf. This particular step, small though it is, is actually one of the biggest for me on this side of the path. I love coffee. LOVE. It is my wakeup and my thank you, the one little reward I give myself throughout the day for being present in my chaotic home. Giving up my constant little comfort for a pregnancy that I don’t even get to keep is difficult, and one of the hardest to grasp, because of it’s simplicity.
In surrogacy, I give my body to someone else for a year or more. I no longer get to decide if I’d like some sushi, a glass of wine, an exotic vacation or even a beloved cup-o-joe. I gave up my right to make those kinds of decisions the second I agreed to be the caretaker of someone elses child, and giving up that kind of control over self is quite a hurdle to jump over. It is, for me, the hardest part about being a surrogate.