Where To … Part 8: Adventures & Outcomes

We started with 20 eggs, 13 fertilized, 6 embryos developed, of which 1 embryo stopped growing, 1 embryo was of too poor quality to freeze, which has left us with 4 embryos to send off on their ski holiday in the freezer.

One has to wonder how the human race keeps multiplying with these kinds of statistics. Be that as it may, we’re happy that we have 4 embryos who will have to wait patiently until we find a suitable surrogate mother – whenever that may be.

The criteria to be a surrogate in South Africa is:
1. have to have had children before
2. uncomplicated pregnancies and live births to healthy babies
3. preferably have completed own family
4. have altruistic intentions and not be looking for financial gain

In return, they get:
1. the honour of being an incubator for 9 months.
2. a whole new (albeit maternity) wardrobe.
3. pampered by the commissioning parents (and poked a few times by the doctors) for 9 months.
4. the privilege of giving the ultimate gift one could ever give to anyone – the gift of a baby … the gift of a family.
5. the possibility of a gift once the contract term is complete, although this would vary depending upon the commissioning parents

So basically I’m still looking for my special angel who loves having a pregnant belly and looks forward to being able to dress in maternity clothing – which lets be honest, most maternity clothing is frumpy as all hell! Just because a woman is pregnant, full of hormones and therefore sometimes can’t remember her own name (I speak from experience from my brief 5 month pregnancy with Stella), doesn’t mean that her sense of style and fashion has to be forfeited! But that’s a topic for another day …

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Stella who we lost suddenly 5 months into my pregnancy in 2010. What she would have looked like today … her personality … her giggle … her smile … the twinkle in her eyes. The image of her face and tiny hands and feet are still imprinted on my mind and will be forever. Her photographs, hand prints and foot prints stowed away safely. I sometimes wonder whether we shouldn’t have named our son, who we never got to meet. Perhaps we’re in denial. Perhaps because in some ways I was still dealing with the emotions of watching my son on a screen in someone else’s tummy, when tragedy struck at 13 weeks. Perhaps it was the guilt I felt because our surrogate mother had to go through a traumatic experience on my behalf. I’m really not sure. So much to work through and so much to think about even though it was a year ago … almost to the day.

Be safe on your adventure LH. Wish I was there with you.

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