I guess I should say to anyone who may be a new reader here,
or for those who may have simply forgotten, the events I am describing transpired
in August 2016, around baby boy’s first birthday.
So much has happened since then. I haven’t had time nor energy
nor passion to write so now it is a giant dump of so many big feelings and experiences.
As to not leave you hanging, in the middle of T.arget, I
offered to be a surrogate for the embryo’s for baby boy’s genetic family.
I have a uterus and can carry another pregnancy. Nothing
about the ordeals of pregnancy sounds appealing, but it’s a limited time.
Anyone can do something for a limited amount of time. It’s all mental, right?
Baby boy’s genetic family donated him out of necessity. It was
not necessarily a decision they would have made, had medical circumstances been
different. But since life happened as it did, they donated baby Boy and his
sibling embryos to the NEDC.
When a decision is made for you (aside from the decision
between donating and alternatives that were never even an option for them), there
are shades of grief that are different from the more common “we feel our family
is compete” driver behind many donations.
So it wasn’t even a question in my mind. I carry. They parent. The kids
are together in only two families. We know each other. We love each other. And
even more, we like each other. It just makes sense.
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