Eight Week Milestone

Dear Baby,
Today we saw your heart beating, and saw the blood pumping through your small little body.  You already have eyelids, all your organs, and have joints in your wrists and knees. You are just the size of a kidney bean, but I swear you're the most loved little legume that ever existed.

Today was a big day for us. In the past 2 years, our hearts have always broken before eight weeks. But not with you. Even the doctors agree that you look beautiful. We haven't been calling you "baby", but just a little totsicle. Today we said "baby" for the first time, and although the look in our eyes is one of pure panic and worry, it is also beginning to look like one of excitement and hope.

Keep on growing, little kidney bean. Happy 8 week birthday!
Love,
The people who will one day ground you

Dear Katy,
Today I texted my family about the good news of another successful appointment and one sister asked how you were feeling. I said you felt nauseous in the afternoons, but overall just tired with the perfect amount of pregnancy crumminess. One sister said "How do you ever thank someone for going through this for you? What an angel. I am so thankful for her." Another sister said "Mostly, what a special relationship. One only a few people will ever understand."

This is exactly how I feel.  I've been taught there are four words in Greek that mean "love." However, it's obvious Socrates didn't know much about surrogacy or he would have made up a new word that describes our feelings for you. Thank you for enduring an ultrasound every week and not making us feel crazy when we ask to hear the heartbeat again and again.
Love,
The people who will put you through agonizing pain in 8 months

Dear Will,
Thank you for reminding me things could still go wrong, while also entertaining me about which baby names sound the best in a slogan. (Obviously for when our child runs for Student Council.) You will forever be my balance. Thank you for always reminding me that this will definitely be worth it, and that this isn't my fault. There is no one else on earth I would want to go through this with than you.
Love,
The girl who keeps crying and getting snot and mascara on your shoulder

Dear God,
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Love,
All the obnoxious prayer warriors who haven't ceased to keep praying for us

little patient soul

We heard a heartbeat, people!!

Katy flew in for the day to be seen by our Houston clinic, and our wonderful doctor came in on her day off to do the ultrasound. We were very anxious leading up to this, and the two week wait felt like two years. Needless to say,  I think people in Singapore could have heard my heart beating out of my chest as we walked into the room.

First our doc says "OK, I only see one sac." An immediate disappointment swallows us. Not twins. (We were really hoping for the "two for the price of one" deal.)

And then she says "Well, look at that flicker! There's the heart." We listened closely, and the sweetest sound you'll ever hear filled the room. Any disappointment of it not being twins left us as quickly as it came. The pain of the past 1.5 years didn't go away, but rather suddenly felt like it had a purpose.

My sister lives in L.A., and has recruited lots of prayers from her friends. (We like to take our prayer requests national.) She forwarded me a text from one of her friends that said "I don't want to speak too soon, but man, that little one is so meant to be. Look what had to happen for him/her to come to be?? Little soul has been waiting patiently!"

Little soul, please hang on. We'd really love to meet you. (And not just because you'd be the first one in our family to be patient.)

Katy will have ultrasounds weekly her first trimester, so it's another day to celebrate and another week to wait.  My colleague, Karen, said "We get to celebrate again!!" (I think she's beginning to figure out that this pregnancy will have more celebrated milestones than any pregnancy in history.)

Little patient soul, we're celebrating you.

To Another Day

We have great news! We got another girl pregnant! (note: I'm not sure if these jokes will ever get old.) 

We have done two blood tests and both had positive results, indicating Katy's HCG numbers are increasing and there is a positive pregnancy.

The "two week wait" (which is really only 10 days) felt eerily similar to when I was going through it. I thought maybe I wouldn't think about it as much this time, since it wasn't happening to my body. I was wrong. So after too many home pregnancy tests (some of which were negative, so a big shout out to my friends who are still my friends after I dramatically told them it didn't work and was a disaster for 3 days), we received the good news!

I wish I could say that we were immediately elated and hopeful and already planning our nursery color scheme. However, our "we've already been here multiple times before" thoughts begin to emerge, and it's been hard to let the joy consume us before our doubts creep in. That may seem hard to explain to some, and I'm not meaning to be ungrateful. We are VERY grateful. But as excited as I want to feel, I feel five times as scared and anxious. We are all counting down until our first ultrasound on Dec 17th.

We went out to dinner to celebrate her first positive blood test, and Will's toast was "To Another Day." Another Day we are thankful that we're this far.  Another Day of hoping and dreaming. And Another Day to pray that we have lots more days like this one.

a brutiful day.

Will woke up this morning, took the dogs outside, and came back upstairs with an excited "It's a beautiful day to knock someone up!" And boy, oh boy, was today beautiful.

My favorite writer, Glennon Melton, writes that the most beautiful things are the ones that are also so brutally hard. She calls these things "brutiful." So maybe that's a better description of today. It wouldn't have been so beautiful, if at the same time, it wasn't brutally difficult.

Blake and Katy got in last night from Dallas, and we got her ready to invite our little totsicles into her body with some Cyclone Anaya's, (since it's only inevitable that our kids will do anything for Tex-Mex). As we sat there laughing about the funny things her kids say, I was struck with how much I genuinely liked them. Yet, I wouldn't know them at all without this insane journey.  A "brutiful" realization, if you will.

Today at Houston IVF, the nurse came to tell Will and I that the embryos thawed successfully. (It's always a risk that they won't make it through the thawing process.) As Will put his arm around me, I knew he was the only person in the world thinking the same thought I was. "This is so hard. This is so great." Looking at him in that waiting room as we prayed together was a moment I'll never forget. It was so freaking brutiful.

As we walked into the transfer room with Katy already prepped and ready to go, I just cried and cried. Cried tears of sadness and grief that I could not be the one to do this. Cried tears of hope that maybe this could be our chance. Cried tears of gratitude that Katy and Blake are in our lives. All just big ol' brutiful tears.

And as we walked out and hugged them goodbye, it was the first time I realized that my little embryos don't go home with me. They stay with Katy, and I have to trust that she'll love them and keep them safe. It's a brutiful thing to have to give up that control, yet also have a sense of peace knowing that I trust her so completely. 

Will was right. Today was a brutally beautiful, brutiful day.

xo,
Kendall and Will

ps. We find out in 10 days if it's worked! So prayers for the next 10 days... and hopefully the next 9 months. (Or why you're at it, the next 18 years.)

 

In attempt to get me to stop crying, we took selfies in the back room. We like to call this one, "waiting to impregnate another person" face.

 

Our adorable baby-carrier and her sweet husband!

 

Burning Bright

It's been a long time since I've written, somewhat purposefully. It's been a whirlwind, and I knew I'd confuse everyone if I updated on every step. We've just tried to keep moving forward with the mantra "If you keep pedaling, you won't fall off."

 

In a quick summary and bullet-point fashion, here's a chronological update:

• Decided to definitely move forward with a carrier. Signed a contract with the GC agency.
• Got matched to a carrier who lives in Houston. We loved her. Got super excited and couldn't wait to move forward.
• After some testing, our doctor did not approve her because of some physical risks. We got sad and defeated and thought "maybe we shouldn't do this."
• We kept pedaling.
• We had two advocates reach out on our behalf to the CEO of our GC agency to ask them to "look out for us."(One is a new friend who used the same GC agency, and one is our fertility doctor. Both contacted the agency without us knowing. We didn't even bribe anyone!)
• CEO, not our normal caseworker, called us and said she had someone she'd like us to meet that she'd been "keeping in her back pocket." The potential carrier works in the fertility industry, and she had recently decided she could do more. She mentioned to the CEO that she may want to be a carrier. The CEO promised she'd find someone for her that would be a good match.
• Enter an anxious and excited Monroe couple.
• In a whirlwind Labor Day weekend, Will and I drove to Dallas. (Don't worry- she's not a Cowboy's fan. We obviously asked.)
• We met her, her husband, and her children.
• We fell in love.

I don't want to reveal too much about her to protect her privacy, but she's wonderful. Her name is Katy and she lives in a suburb outside of Dallas. She's in her late twenties, is married, and has children of her own. She works in the "fertility field" and for years has been helping women with their fertility struggle. Because of this, she knows well what lengths some women go through to become mothers.

In our first meeting, we asked her and her husband why they wanted to do this for another couple. (Her husband is not involved in anything directly, but obviously this is a big step for their family.) She said "I have been involved in the third party fertility industry for years, and have seen first hand the heartache that many parents have gone through to build their families. I have had all uncomplicated pregnancies and I see this as a way that I can help a family. My husband and I are done building our family but we have both discussed and feel that God has called us to continue to make a difference in the lives of a couple to help them grow theirs." (Don't you love her, too??)  She is so genuine, kind, and generous. I really can't believe she's "ours!"

We have already gone through all her pre-testing, finished a long process of contracts with attorneys, and have successfully made it over some speed bumps. We hope to do the embryo transfer sometime before the holidays!

Before our last IVF cycle, we booked a trip to Europe knowing that it was going to either be a "babymoon" (since I would have been in my second trimester by then), or it would be a chance to clear our heads after a loss. However, it turned out to be neither of those things. We definitely have grieved (and will continue to grieve) the baby's who heart we heard beat strong, but never got to hold. And we definitely wished we could have discussed disposable diapers vs. cloth diapers or a "labor plan." But instead, we met Katy right before we left, and so Europe wasn't a trip of nursery planning nor was it a grieving getaway. It was a trip of hope and gratitude, knowing that one part of our journey was over, but a new one was just beginning.

 

When our doctor called the gestational carrier agency on our behalf, we've been told she told the CEO, "I have a couple that I started seeing two years ago, and their light shined so bright. Today they've just left my office, and I'm worried their light is barely a flicker." 

 

I sure hope Katy makes us parents. But even if she doesn't, I am forever grateful that she has made our light continue to burn, and maybe even brighter than ever.

 

With Love,

Kendall and Will

"Opposite of Loneliness"

Over the past few days I've received a couple emails from friends saying "Give us an update!" (To those friends- I love you. Thank you for caring.) The truth is that I've become a bit more "reserved" in the past couple weeks. As we've told people we're continuing down the route of a gestational carrier, I found myself becoming more and more nervous. I was constantly holding my breath to see how someone would respond or what they would say. So instead of putting myself through the anxiety, I decided I would just stop talking about it entirely. 

Well, I just left church and the sermon was one of those "this-is-for-you-Kendall-so-you-better-listen" type sermons. The gist of the sermon was this: If we shut ourselves out to the world, we are missing the most wonderful thing that we can experience as human beings. Going through life with "family",  (not necessarily the family we're born with, but the community/friends/family we choose to surround ourself with), is when we are living out the essence of our existence.  We must allow ourselves to be open, and thus allow ourselves to nurture and be nurtured by others.

One of the sermon illustrations was Marina Keegan, the Yale grad who gave her commencement speech and then was killed 5 days later in a car accident. She spoke about her experience at Yale, and named the commencement address "The Opposite of Loneliness." The commencement essay was about how wonderful it was to be part of something bigger than she was. Throughout the sermon, and after reading her whole essay, I realized that if I don't allow myself to be open, even though with "open" comes "vulnerable", then I'm the one missing out.

So here we go, guys. We're headed on a new journey. I wish I could tell you what happens at the end, but I'm not quite sure myself.  But in a new effort to be open, I'll start by tackling some of the hardest questions I've been asked.

Why are you using a gestational carrier?

This is tough, because I don't have a long diagnosis to spit out. As far as the doctors know, my immune system has never/will never be hospitable for an embryo. It becomes inflamed and can't tell what are foreign cells (like virus or bacteria cells), and what isn't. Therefore, my body attacks anything it doesn't recognize (like an embryo.) Because in most cases a diagnosis like this doesn't change with time, we aren't waiting or continuing with further treatment.

You're going to use a surrogate or a gestational carrier? What's the difference?

This is a hard question to answer because traditional surrogacy doesn't really exist as frequently as it once did. But generally speaking, a surrogate is when the carrier is using her own egg. So a contract would be for a woman to carry her biological child and would undergo artificial insemination with sperm from the potential father. The surrogate is genetically linked to the child she's carrying. 

However, a gestational carrier is when the embryo is not genetically related to the carrier. She is transferred the embryo from intended parents, and then carries it with no genetic connection. She is literally "just the oven."  (Some women do use an egg donor AND a gestational carrier. But that's another story for another time.)

However, since traditional surrogacy doesn't happen much anymore in the U.S., the word "surrogacy" is often used in place of "gestational carrier." So I may say "my surrogate" at times, even though we are using a gestational carrier.

So how does this work? 

Well, we aren't 100% sure. We will be figuring a lot of it out as we go. We are using an agency to help us find a carrier and work with us throughout the process. Gestational carriers do get paid a large sum for their service, but many of them also have a heart to give back to others. (One potential gestational carrier said "The gift of motherhood was the greatest gift I've ever received. It would be an honor to give that gift to someone else." Enter waterworks.)  

All of the potential carriers have had a child of their own, and go through rigorous physical/physiological evaluations. It's a little like "blind dating". We have met a few girls, and we hope we are getting a few steps closer. (We have to like them, and they have to like us.)  If a carrier doesn't live in our area, she will do the embryo transfer in Houston, and then see her own OB/GYN in her home city. We will travel for doctors' appointments and we will be in the room during labor/delivery.

Why don't you just adopt?

Adoption is a wonderfully magnificent way to become a parent. And maybe someday in our future, Will and I will adopt. For now, we have frozen embryos that we want to persue. The wait to adopt a newborn is several years, and almost the same amount of money as the route we're currently perusing.  It is not the "easy quick fix" that you may be expecting. Unfortunately, there is no "just" in "just adopt." 

Why doesn't one of your sisters carry it for you?

My sisters are by far the biggest blessing I could imagine in this world. I would trust any of my sisters far beyond I could trust myself to carry a child. However, this isn't a "Will you run to the grocery store for me?" type of favor. I have three sisters who will all start or continue a family in the next few years. To ask or expect any of them to carry this for me would be asking them to stop perusing their dream family. (Unless I want to ask my sister in college to carry. And I don't think her sorority or Young Life would allow her to walk around knocked-up.) While I know any of my sisters would give her right arm for me, I want her to use that right arm for the life she wants, not the life I'm after.

Does Will have sex with the woman you choose? 

No. Surely you're joking, but since I've been asked the question twice in 2 weeks, I guess it should be addressed. Like I explained previously, the embryo is genetically ours. There is no sex to be had, although I appreciate your creativity. Our embryos have been frozen from our previous IVF cycles. Our carrier will be transferred an embryo in a hospital room, not a hotel room. 

Are you going to tell?

I'm not really sure what this question means, but I've been asked it often. Am I going to tell my child? Absolutely. His/her journey into this world is one I'm already proud of. He/She is very wanted, so there's no reason I would hide this. Am I going to tell a person in the elevator that my baby was born via a gestational carrier? Probably not. Am I going to tell Facebook/whole world? Well, to be honest - I'm just not sure yet. (Baby steps, for now.)

This is so scientific. I don't think God is "in" this. 

I've luckily only received this feedback a few times, and I'm still not quite sure how to say "Hmmm... well we must worship different Gods, then." My God is ever so present in this situation. He has created people who have blessed us in this journey far more than I could have imagined.  It is because of Him, not "in spite" of Him, that we are here. He has created our doctor with genius-like brains and incredible bedside manner.  He has created our embryologists, who have helped science get this far. He has blessed us with Sarah Barnett, a dear friend (who is becoming our personal genetic counselor) who has helped us walk through many genetic questions. He has walked with us through every heartbreak and turmoil thus far. Our God is very much in this.

I know all of you may have a lot more questions, and we know there are more questions than answers, for now. Luckily, we seem to learn more each day. 

Marina Keegan, the Yale graduate, wrote in her essay:  "It’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team."

Thank you, to all of you, for being in this with us. You are the best team.

Heading Down a Road Less Traveled

It's been a rough couple weeks, folks. But we're still standing! 

 

Week before last was mostly just navigating through the physical pain. Finally we had the surgery to remove the embryo, and on day 4 post-op, I was finally off all pain medications and could generally function again. 

 

We've spent a lot of time reading about next steps and deciding if going the route of a gestational carrier was for us. We've talked with our doctor, spoken with a caseworker from a surrogate/gestational carrier agency, and Googled so much about surrogacy that I'm sure my internet pop-ups will now never be anything but diapers and stroller ads.

 

One article we read was from Jimmy Fallon. He and his wife recently had a child born via a carrier. He said; "We tried lots of things before, we told people and then it didn't happen, and it's just really depressing. It's really hard on everybody."

 

We know this is true. We love all of you for crying and hurting with us, but we also recognize that this has been hard on a lot of people. Hard on our families. Hard on relationships with friends who may not completely understand why we have not quite been ourselves. Hard on our careers. Hard on my body. It's been hard. 

 

So because of how difficult this has been, and because of the direction and advice we've received from our doctors, we have decided to move forward with a gestational carrier and stop trying with my body. We know we have completely exhausted our current avenue, and while it has really sucked, we know we've done all we could.  We have tried naturally. We have tried being monitored constantly. We have tried drugs. We have tried IVF with genetically perfect embryos.  We have been tested for everything under the sun. And so six miscarriages later, we now can positively confirm that my body/ immune system just isn't quite keen on me carrying a baby. And while I am so sad, for lots of reasons, that I won't be the one to bring our baby into the world, I am SO thankful that we have another avenue. We have hope and excitement as we prepare to go down the road a little less traveled. 

 

Jimmy Fallon also said, "We tried for a long time. I know people have tried much longer, but if there's anyone out there who is trying and they're just losing hope... just hang in there. Try every avenue; try anything you can do, 'cause you'll get there. You'll end up with a family, and it's so worth it. It is the most 'worth it' thing. I'm just so happy right now. I'm freaking out."

 

So for now we're taking good ol' Jimmy's advice and we're just "hanging in there." We're concentrating on the hope that someday we will have a baby with Will's bright blue eyes and my bullheadedness. We are thankful that we can continue with totsicles we already have and with a doctor we've grown to love and trust. We are hopeful that our potential gestational carrier will become part of our family, and that in the end, we'll get the baby God meant for us to have. 

 

I was telling my family last week that I don't know for certain how all this works, but I hope that the soul of our past babies get to go back into the heavens and wait their turn to be picked again. I hope that they will make their way down to Earth someday in a body that is strong for all 40 weeks and will be greeted with the same love and excitement that we had. My sister, Katie, said "Yes, those souls are back out there. But the soul meant for you and Will is still waiting."  

 

So with that, we wait with hope.

Love to all,
Kendall and Will