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This is the end of the Journey. September 16, 2002 Journey of A Surrogate (Hello again! It's been a very busy year for me. I've thought about updating so many times, but I just wanted to wait until I had happy news to share. Sadly, it doesn't seem that is ever going to happen. So, in the spirit of "no time like the present", here is my update.) In February of 2002, I found out I was pregnant again. This time, I was not carrying a surrogate child. My fourth pregnancy was very planned by both my husband and I. In fact, he made the suggestion that we have another child together. All our other pregnancies were planned by me. This was the first time in our life together that he wanted to have a baby. The pregnancy was wonderful! None of the massive complications, morning sickness, or fatigue that had plagued me throughout Colby's pregnancy. For the first time in my life, I truly enjoyed being pregnant. So much so, I was seriously considering being a surrogate again after my daughter was born. And yes, you read that right. After having two boys, I finally had a daughter. We had to wait awhile to figure that out. Our first sonogram was sure we were having another son. But when our second and third sonograms showed we were having a girl, I went crazy buying little pink sleepers and tiny dresses. It was so much fun. I completed both spring and summer semesters at college and have only one semester left to fulfill before graduation. We bought a brand new house and just moved into it, August 2002. Everything was going so well, until my water broke at 30 weeks. You've already read about my life in the days after that. Another frantic trip to labor and delivery. Another helicopter flight to another far away hospital. Another routine of unpleasant medications to stop the labor. Another set of steroid injections to mature the baby's lungs. Another round of antibiotics to prevent infection. And still, I caught another infection anyway. And went through another induction on short notice. But while my surrogate son was born crying, my daughter's birth was silent. And while Colby survived his difficult beginnings and tiny size, my daughter did not. She lived almost an hour after her birth before passing away in her daddy's arms. Ironically, her premature birth had nothing to do with her death. She had a fatal birth defect that would have killed her, no matter when she'd been born. Delivering at term would only have delayed the inevitable. It's "just one of those things" that is very rare, undetectable, unpreventable, and untreatable. The doctors can offer no other explanation than that, really. It's been three weeks since my angel, Jillian Faith, passed away. I've done a lot of thinking since then. And I've thought quite a bit about Colby and his parents. I've thought about the days before and after his birth and all that's happened since then. And all I can really decide about it is that it doesn't matter. None of it. The "who said what to hurt whom" game just isn't worth playing now. I know I said and did things that were hurtful. I know they said and did things that were hurtful. And it's just not important anymore. I'm not sure it ever really was. I give up carrying around the anger at them that I've harbored over the last year. I give up having my feelings hurt that they didn't treat me the way I'd wanted. I understand now, far more clearly than I ever wanted to, why they did what they did. I understand the mix of fear and elation that they felt when told their child was coming early. I know what it's like to be so eager to meet your child and still wish she'd stay in the womb and grow just a little longer. I understand the excitement and disappointment they felt when seeing that tiny little body for the first time. So beautiful, but far too small. I don't know what it's like to sit at his isolette day after day and worry for him. I wasn't given that burden or privilege with my child. But I certainly know what it's like to worry over a baby that might not make it. I know what their worst fears must have been back then. I face those fears every morning when I open my eyes and try to make it through another day. I know what it's like to want, to need, answers. Someone to hold accountable. Someone to blame. I need that myself right now. Honestly, if I could find someone, someone to pin this on. If I could be able to say..."it's that doctor" or "that sonogram tech" or "fill in the blank-choose anyone" who caused this to happen to my Jilly...it wouldn't matter if that person were guilty or innocent. They'd be convicted in a heartbeat in my mind. I understand why they wanted to blame me for what happened to their son. Heck, I want to blame me for what happened to my daughter. I think I would blame me if blaming me and healing me weren't mutually exclusive goals. I still don't blame myself for what happened to Colby. I stand by my declaration that I didn't do anything to cause Colby's early birth. I followed my diet and restrictions and bedrest orders. I took all my vitamins and medications and shots. I took care of him as if he were my own. In fact, I treated him better than my own. (Jilly and I shared several Pepsi’s during my pregnancy with her-a luxury I gave up while carrying Colby.) So I'm still not accepting the blame for his early arrival. But I understand why they need to blame me. And I understand why they are angry with me. I know now that I said all the wrong things while in the hospital waiting to deliver him. I didn't mean to compound their pain with my flippant attitude. I just didn't know back then what was really at stake. I couldn't fathom the pain of losing a child. I just had the naive, sunny belief that everything would be dandy and I couldn't figure out why they were so upset. I think if I could, I would apologize to them. Or at least tell them how sorry I am for them that he was born early. I don't think I ever did that back then. So...what has happened between my IP's and I in the last year? A lot. We've had many heated conversations and gone through long periods of never speaking to each other again. We've had many healing conversations and really seemed to make progress toward reconciliation. Then we've started battling all over again. It's seemed to be a never-ending cycle. Yet, throughout it all, Colby is a beautiful, happy child. He's almost 14 months old now and I can tell in every syllable in every word of the updates that I do get, that his parents love him. And maybe THAT is what's important in all this? I guess really it all boils down to this: Two families and two babies. One mother buying walking shoes to brace her baby's first steps. One mother buying a headstone to mark her baby's final rest. And one could so easily have been the other. While we were walking around with our agendas and our hidden needs and hurt feelings...we were truly holding life and death in our hands. I just never realized what that truly meant until now. So...that said...I'm finished. I'm finished being a surrogate. I know I never will be again; it's not even a temptation any longer. If I ever feel another child move within my body...that baby will be mine. And hopefully mine to take home this time. I'm also finished talking about my days as a surrogate. And I'm finished trying to help others be a surrogate. Don't get me wrong. I still believe in surrogacy with all my heart. And I still love "my girls" that I've helped along the way. But I can't help anyone else right now. You'll have to go somewhere else for your answers. I used to think I knew all the answers to give you. Now I know I don't. I'm off myself, soon, on a quest to try to find them. Perhaps I'll run into you out there and you can share some of your answers with me. I still have not had my visit. I still ache for it, more so now than ever. So maybe someday if that happens, then I'll update again. But in the meantime, don't look for many updates from me. I don't think there will be any. I apologize for leaving you this way. I'd give anything to have a happier to tale to share with you just once. It just doesn't seem meant to be right now. Thank you all for reading anyway. And thank you for your support.
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