Inconclusive

We did it! 

We finally nailed down a date for Lily and Jason to fly out here for Clinic Day! That's the day the two of them and Jimmi and I will head to the fertility clinic for a full day of testing and talking and gathering information and figuring out the plan for the transfer of our bun into Lily's oven a few weeks later.

Clinic Day is scheduled for July 11th!!

They'll fly in on the 10th, we'll go to the clinic from 8 AM - 2 PM on the 11th and then I'm planning on getting tickets to a Broadway show, probably Wicked, for that evening. Then they'll fly back on the 12th. Not a long visit, but a very important one! I can't believe it's really happening!

At about 1:30 PM my mom came over to help me clean up a little bit. It's been difficult for me to do a whole lot since my back is still bothering me. "How's the pain today?" she asked as she put down her bag and walked over the the chair where I was sitting. "It hurts," I whined. "And the doctor is really pissing me off. I called yesterday and they told me they received the DVD of my CT scan from Dr. L on Tuesday and they were just waiting for their radiologist to compare it to the MRI they took. It's Thursday and I still haven't heard anything!" I grabbed the phone and called the sports medicine office and asked for the physician's assistant I'd been dealing with. He picked up the call, "Hi Suzanne. I haven't forgotten about you, but unfortunately, the head radiologist still hasn't been able to compare the two scans yet. I promise I'll get back to you today." Before I could stop it from escaping my lips, the question flew out, "Why is it taking so long? Does he think the cancer is back?" The PA paused the uncomfortable pause of someone who isn't quite prepared to answer a particular question, "Well, he wasn't sure from the MRI which is why he wanted to look at the CT scan to compare the films. I didn't call you because I didn't want to scare you before I had a definite answer." I guess my mom saw my face fall because she came closer and sat down on the stairs next to me. The PA finished with, "I'll call you as soon as I get the report, ok?" 

I hung up the phone and forced myself to breathe. My mom asked, "What did he say?" I couldn't answer her. 

All I could do was breathe. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

She didn't ask me again. She let me take the time I needed to process what I'd heard and then my eyes blurred with tears and the words came out, "They think it might be cancer." 

Jimmi walked in as the horrific sentence was still hanging in the air. "What?" he asked. "I'm not doing it again," I insisted. "I can't go through that again!" My mom, always the calming force, replied, "Calm down. Don't worry unless there's a reason to worry. Maybe you should call Nurse L." The same thought had already crossed my mind and my finger frantically dialed the number to my oncologist's office. Nurse L, my favorite from the start, called me back very quickly, "What's up?" she asked. I blurted out the details of my conversation with the PA and she said, "What? Who said that? Why didn't they send US the MRI DVD?" She sounded angry and very protective of my fragile mental health, "I'm reading the report from the CT scan we did here last week and it says 'No suspicious activity. No evidence of disease.' The only new appearance is the radiation damage." I broke in, "But how can that be? Can radiation damage show up two years after completing radiation?" She was strong in her words, "Oh, yeah. Definitely. Radiation is the gift that keeps on giving." But I wasn't convinced, "Why is this happening? We're supposed to be getting ready to have a baby!" My voice cracked and the sobbing began, "I know," she said sympathetically. "They're scaring me! I can't do it again! I can't!" I could've sworn I heard Nurse L's voice shaking as well, "I know. I know you can't. Can I talk to them? What's their number? I'm gonna get this figured out." I gave her the information she requested and she hung up after promising, "I'll call you right back."

I just sat there. I couldn't muster up the strength to do anything else. My mom and Jimmi tried to convince me of the many other possibilities that could be causing pain and a new spot on my scans, but I wasn't convinced. 

Nurse L called right back, "Ok, they're sending us the MRI and we're gonna have our radiologists look at it. They're also calling me back once they have the final report from the MRI on their end." I asked, "Is it possible your radiologists made a mistake? Could it be cancer?" She tried to put me at ease, "Look, anything is possible, but based on your history, any radiologist who doesn't know your entire situation is going to assume the possibility of metastatic disease. They all do it. Just sit tight and I'll let you know what I find out." 

In the meantime, nothing was getting cleaned up at my house. That ship had sailed away taking the hope I'd newly found along with it. And then I saw the e-mail from Tara:

Hi Suzanne!

We're all set for Clinic Day on July 11th! Please see the flight options for Lily and Jason below and let me know which one works best with your schedule. 

Thanks,

Tara

Awesome. Should I tell her to hold off on booking anything because I may have to cancel the whole thing? Should I pretend nothing's wrong? I chose option #2 and picked the flights I thought were best. She responded that she'd check with Lily and Jason and get back to me. Great. Whoopee! I should've be doing cartwheels of joy at that moment but all I could do was think about the possibility of losing my hair again. Sounds petty, right? Well, it's not. When I lost my hair my dignity was lost with it. I hated everything about being bald and then having short hair. I was not a Bald is Beautiful warrior who proudly paraded her smooth and shiny scalp as a symbol of the battle she was fighting. Nope. I was the one who kept covered and hid from the world. I was the one who stayed on my corner of the couch and hoped no one would want to visit me. I wasn't me at all. I was just a cancer patient.

I'm not doing that again. I can't.

I had to run out for a few minutes. I left my mom at the house and asked her to please answer the phone. I didn't know if the sports medicine office would tell her anything, but I knew Nurse L would. I ran my quick errands and just as I'd finished paying for my Dunkin Donuts iced coffee, my phone rang. I recognized the sports doctor's number, contemplated not answering the call, but quickly changed my mind. "Hi Suzanne," it was the doctor himself, not the PA. Is that a bad sign? "So, we got the results of your MRI. Sorry it took so long but the radiologist really wanted to see the CT scan first. So, he definitely sees the same area of concern that your oncologist's office says is radiation damage but he's very non-commital." A non-commital man? No way! "He said it COULD be that, but it's also possible it could be metastatic disease." 

Metastatic disease: A fancy term for your cancer has spread. Or, more simply, you're fucked. 

He continued, "We'd like to set you up for a bone scan tomorrow to look more closely and get to the bottom of this. If that scan is inconclusive as well, we may have to go in for a biopsy, but we'll cross that bridge if we get to it." I guess he could hear the fear in my voice so he threw in, "I'm not a betting man, but I'd say you'll be just fine." Oh, gee thanks, Doc. You're telling me the radiologist thinks I might have cancer again and you don't truly understand the severity of the type of cancer we'd be dealing with, but you think I'll be fine? Why are we even going through this little exercise? If you think I'll be fine, let's just leave it at that and let me get on with my life? "So my PA will call you after he calls your insurance company and we'll set up the bone scan." Ok, "And when will I have the results." He said, "Hmmm...Well, if we get you in tomorrow, I'd say the earliest we would know anything would be Monday. Just try not to think about it and enjoy your weekend."

You're fucking kidding me, right?

I drove home with a knot in my stomach the size of Texas. I recapped my history in my head. Diagnosed April 2011, hysterectomy June 2011, chemo and radiation July 2011 - September 2011, clear scans until April 2013. It's only been two months since April. I wasn't even supposed to have my next scan until July. Can things really change in two months? Yup. Small Cell Neuroendocrine Carcinoma is a nasty bitch and she plays dirty. Those little cells can hide in there and pop up whenever they need a little excitement. I thought I'd made it two years cancer-free and now I'm told I might have to start all over again. The ringing phone snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hi Suzanne it's Dr. L's office. He wants you to come in for a PET scan tomorrow at eleven." Wait, what? "Oh. I thought I was going for a bone scan." She responded, "No, we don't do that. He wants you to have a PET scan." I was confused, "I thought I was having a bone scan at the sports medicine office?" She clearly had no idea what I was talking about, "I don't know. Is eleven ok?" I agreed and figured I'd call Nurse L for clarification after the scheduler hung up. "Ok, be here fifteen minutes before the scan and don't eat anything for six hours before you get here." 

I didn't have a chance to call Nurse L back because my mom met me at the door shaking her head, "I just got off the phone with Nurse L. She seemed very annoyed." Maybe she could tell me what the Hell was going on, "Yeah, they just called me in for a PET scan. I thought I was having a bone scan." My mom went on, "Yes, Nurse L spoke to the sports doctor and he told her they were sending you for a bone scan. She told Dr. L and he got angry because they don't even do bone scans anymore. He wants you to do the PET scan so they can get to the bottom of this." Made sense, "Then she said that since Dr. L is in the New Jersey office tomorrow he'll be able to see you right away and tell you what's going on." That was good news. "So I won't have to wait until Monday?" She shook her head, "I'm telling you, Nurse L did not sound happy with the way the other doctor's office is handling this." Yeah, neither am I.

And then my mind started buzzing with its daily, crazy thoughts. What if this is all happening for a reason? What if the Universe knows the cancer is back and sent me to the second doctor because the first radiologist missed it? What if all of these events are happening to lead me to a re-diagnosis? I mean, seriously. Think about it. I was working with the first surrogacy agency for months and rejected every possible candidate they sent me. I switched agencies and within hours we were matched with exactly the right person for us. I truly believe that was a series of events destined to lead us to Lily. The timing was right and it all fell into place. Maybe that's what's happening here?

Anyway...a few minutes after the crazies had stopped yapping in my ear I received an e-mail from Tara with the final flight plans for Lily and Jason's trip on July 10-12. "Should I book it?" she asked. Shit. I had to tell her. I typed:

Do you think we can hold off for 24 hours? The pain in my back is still there and I'm going for a PET scan tomorrow to hopefully find out what's going on.

Send.

I hate that everyone probably thinks I'm a hypochondriac who complains constantly. I hate that I feel like one of those annoying people on Facebook who is constantly whining about imaginary problems that I'd give anything to have over the hand I've been dealt.

Ding!

Click.

I'm sure 24 hours won't make a difference in booking the flights. Sending positive vibes.

Tara

Ok, that's done. And now all I can do is continue the waiting game I've become so accustomed to. Tomorrow I'll be sequestered into a room and injected with a highly radioactive dye so I can have yet another type of scan that will hopefully bring me some answers. I'm not a religious person, but...

Please pray they're good ones.

Scans, Tattoos and Plans, Oh My!

You know that feeling you get when your CT scan looks clear for cancer but shows what appears to be a herniated disc, so you're sent for an MRI to confirm said disc and the results of the MRI show something, but no one's sure what it is? 

I DO!

Yeah, seriously. The sports medicine doctor called me on Friday to tell me he did see something on my MRI in the same place as the supposed disc, but it didn't appear to be a disc. So, what did it appear to be? "Well, it could be radiation damage, or edema, or even a small fracture. Though, a fracture seems unlikely since you don't remember hurting the area." Ok, valid guesses I suppose. But I'm not a fan of the inconclusive test results. "It's not cancer, right?" He paused for a moment and said, "Well, the CT scan didn't appear to show cancer, so I don't think so. I'm going to call your oncologist to get a copy of the actual CT scan and not just the report. I'd like to compare it to the MRI and see if that helps us figure out what we're looking at. If we still aren't sure, we may have to send you for a bone scan."

Oh, goody! 

What's a few more days of waiting, a few more days of pain, another scan to fill my body with more radiation? I was hoping to start physical therapy today, but until they know what's causing the problem they aren't able to fix it. On the positive side, the pain doesn't seem to be getting any worse, so I guess that's a good thing. I'm hoping I'll have some answers tomorrow.

While I wasn't given any news about my back on Friday, I did have a small heart attack that day anyway. Lily and I have been e-mailing a lot and getting to know each other, which has been really great. But something she said on Friday sent up a red flag in my brain. "I'm kind of nervous. I'm supposed to be getting my eyeliner tattooed on the way home from work today!" If you've seen my husband or me, you know we don't have any issues with tattoos. Though, the thought of needles going near my eyes makes me want to crawl up the wall! But then another thought hit me after crawling back down. On any medical forms I've filled out in the past, especially when donating blood or freezing embryos, I remember answering the question, "Have you gotten any tattoos or piercings in the last 6 months?" I know they're asking because of HIV or Hep C or any other diseases that can be transmitted through dirty needles. My heart was pounding anxiously and I started to type back to her, "Is that allowed before the transfer?" but I couldn't hit the send button. Who am I to question this woman? She's offered to carry our baby, but that doesn't mean I have the right to get all bossy with her, especially since we haven't even signed any contracts yet. So I let it go, assuming she'd probably checked it out with Tara before making the appointment.

But what if she didn't?

Clearly this woman would not intentionally do anything to hurt this process. I mean, she's completed mounds of paperwork and preliminary testing and background checks and a home study. Why would she go through all of that if she didn't actually want to do this for us? I'm sure she asked Tara. Forget about it.

But what if she really didn't know there could be an issue so she DIDN'T ask? What if she's taking a half-day today to get this done? I checked the time on my phone and it was 1:00 PM. That's noon in Minnesota. Lunchtime. If she was taking a half-day she could've been heading out right then. Shit! I frantically e-mailed Tara:

Hi Tara,

Lily mentioned getting an eyeliner tattoo today. Is that ok? I don't want to upset her but I want to make sure she checked with you first.

Thanks.

It took about 15 minutes to receive the reply that made my heart jump out of my chest and fall onto the floor with a thud.

Suzanne,

No, I didn't know about it. I checked with your clinic and they will require a waiting period of six months after a tattoo or piercing before medication can begin for an embryo transfer. I've already tried calling Lily but I haven't been able to reach her. I suggest you try too.

Tara

SHIT!!!

Now what do I do? I felt awful. I'd basically tattled on this woman who has selflessly offered up her body for us for the next 10 months. Now Tara and I had to hunt her down like a dog and stop her from doing something SHE wanted to do with HER body before allowing my baby to live in it. But I didn't have a choice. I had to e-mail her. After a few minutes without a reply I started jumping to conclusions. Obviously she'd left work early and she was already in the chair being tattooed. That's the only explanation for why neither Tara nor I could get in touch with her. Couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that the poor woman was WORKING, right? Five minutes went by...then ten...then fifteen...then...

Ding!

It was from Tara.

Click!

Hi Suzanne,

She canceled the appointment. All is well.

Tara.

Oh, thank GOD!

Crisis avoided. Breathe. Chill. I thanked Tara and shot another e-mail to Lily, apologizing for ruining her plans. Her simple response gave me another reason to feel that she is the right person to care for our little bundle and keep her safe:

Hi Suzanne,

I'm not upset. Just a little disappointed because I've had that appointment for a few months. But I'll just get it done after the baby comes!!

Lily

And now we're in the process of picking dates for our Clinic Day! Miss Impatient and I would really like it to happen before Jimmi and I leave for Europe on July 19th, so everyone is running around like crazy people trying to sync up schedules. I can't believe it's really happening! Plans are being set in motion and contracts are being written up as I type! The reality is sinking in enough that Jimmi and I have started picking out names for the baby(ies); something I never thought we'd be doing. If all goes well, we could be pregnant by the end of the summer!

Waiting it Out

When scheduling my regular three-month follow-up CT scans, I always plan my appointments with my medical oncologist and gynecological oncologist on the day to follow. As soon as I enter her office 24 hours later, Dr. G, my medical oncologist, hits me with the news. So when I went in for my "emergency" CT scan this past Tuesday, I fully expected to either celebrate or crawl back into my hole of cancer solitude by Wednesday.

I was mistaken.

Because the scan was booked so quickly, Jimmi and my mom were not available to go with me. In two years, this was literally the first time I'd ever walked into that building alone. Since it was only a test and we knew the radiology techs couldn't tell me anything, I was fine flying solo. I sat and played a few games of Sudoku on my phone as I drank what felt like a gallon of "fruit punch" contrast then I was called back for step two. My IV. The routine is exactly the same each time and it makes me feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. First I'm asked my name, with spelling, and date of birth. Then I sign the consent forms, which include the question, "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" on which I angrily check "no" and wonder why they can't put a note in my file saying not to ever give me this form again. I then wait for the the contrast drink server who, once again, asks for my name, with spelling, and my date of birth. I'm instructed to drink only to the bottom of the label over the next hour until the nurse comes to get me for my IV. She then brings me back to the little room that's always like 32 degrees, and I shiver and say, "It's cold in here!" She responds with, "Oh, it's because you're so tiny! Would you like a blanket?" We then go through the name, with spelling, and date of birth drill followed by the question, "Which arm is better?" To which I respond, "My right one is better, but the best vein is full of scar tissue because the phlebotomists at the fertility clinic were too lazy to find another one when I was being monitored every day for two weeks during the cycle for egg-harvesting." She then looks over both arms, easily finds a different vein she believes she can work with and proceeds to painfully stick me until the IV catheter is placed and the saline is flowing. After she leaves, I wait about five minutes - ten if there's an emergency squeeze-in - until the radiology tech comes to collect me and bring me to the machine where I'm instructed to lie with my head on the cushion, my feet facing down and my arms up over my head. The blanket is placed on top of me and I'm told to pull my pants down to my knees so the button and zipper won't affect the scan. The tech then leaves the room and the metal bed moves me into the big, white circle where the automated man tells me to, "Breathe in. Hold your breath. Breathe." The bed moves again and the voice repeats. Then I'm moved out of the circle and the nurse comes back in to inject me with a dye that makes me feel warm and weird all over. She leaves and the bed moves me back into the circle to await my automated boyfriend's instructions three more times until the machine powers down, the bed moves me out, the tech comes back to remove my IV and remind me to drink lots of water, I pull up my pants under the blanket, get up from the table and head out of the big, scary room and back into the world to hold my breath until the next day when I hear the results. The ONLY difference about this playback of Groundhog Day was that I had no knowledge of when the results would come.

And that was a HUGE difference.

Waiting on someone to tell you if your cancer has come back is like, well, waking up on death row. Is today the day they'll sentence me or will I get to hang out in my cell a little bit longer? And when you have a new symptom, like a severe pain in your lower back with an unknown cause, the waiting is even more unbearable. But at least I'd only have to wait 24 hours.

Or so I thought.

At 8:30 on Wednesday morning I was sitting by the phone, hoping it would ring. Nothing. 8:30 was replaced by 9:30. Nothing. 9:30 was followed by 10:30. Still nothing. Miss Impatient was back on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, "Stop waiting for him to call you and call him!" I obliged. But all that did was allow me to leave a message that I, in fact, wanted my doctor to call me and give me my results, which, presumably, was pretty obvious. 11:30 came and went. Nothing. 12:30 turned to 1:30. Nothing. By 2:30 I'd pretty much convinced myself that the reason he wasn't calling was because the results were bad and my doctor needed to wait until office hours were over to make sure he had time to go over the treatment plan with me. And then there was no stopping my brain from considering the "what ifs" so I called my mom to talk me off the ledge. "Maybe he's in surgery today. Be patient." Yeah, Mom, because we all know how easy patience is for me.

The kids came home from school at 3:30 and I immediately sent them outside to play. I didn't want them inside when the call came. Of course it didn't come. At 4:30 the last ounce of patience I could muster wore out and I grabbed the phone and dialed Dr. L's office number again. "Hi, it's Suzanne Kane again. I still haven't heard back from Dr. L about my scan results and I'm going a little crazy over here." I could hear my mom's "I told you so" in my head as the receptionist explained, "Well, he's in surgery today, so that might be why he hasn't called." Is my mom EVER wrong? "Also, we have a few radiologists out. Let me look at something. Hmmm. You had the scan yesterday? Yeah, the results aren't even in yet." Weird. "Really?" I asked, "Isn't that a little odd? The doctor always gives them to me at my appointment twenty-four hours later." She thought for a second, "That's why. If you have an appointment scheduled they mark it STAT so the results are rushed. It normally takes two to three days. I've even heard of it taking up to a week sometimes." Oh, HELL, no! "Are you sure it doesn't mean there's something wrong and they need to study it more?" She smiled audibly, "No, I'm sure. As I said, we have radiologists out this week so they're really busy down there." I forced myself to accept her answer and the fact that I'd need to wait at least one more day to hear if I was dying or not.

I woke up this morning to a panic attack. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking and my chest was tight. I looked at the clock and frowned knowing it would be at least two more hours before the doctor was even in the office. I painfully went about my morning routine and, after the kids were safely at school, did the only thing that would take my mind off the waiting. I took a nap. But by 11:00 I just couldn't keep my eyes shut any longer and my hand automatically reached for the phone and dialed Dr. L. "Hi, it's Suzanne Kane again. I still haven't heard from Dr. L. Can you please tell me if my scan results are in yet?" I heard her fingernails clicking against the keys. "Ummm...I don't see anything. Oh, wait. Yes, the results are in but you'll need to call Dr. G's office because she's the one who ordered the scan." I was confused. "No, she ordered my last scan in April. Dr. L ordered this one." More typing. "Ok, it says Dr. G ordered it. Let me e-mail Dr. L and his nurse and someone will call you back shortly." Oh, good! More waiting!

Ring!

Check Caller ID.

"It's Dr. L's office," I announced to Jimmi before answering the call. "Hello?" My favorite nurse responded with apologies, "I'm so sorry I didn't call you sooner. They put the order in for Dr. G so it didn't pop up on my screen." Ok, you're forgiven. JUST TELL ME IF I'M DYING! "So...Do you have good news for me or not?" She laughed, "Oh, yeah! All good! All of your organs are clear, the vaginal cuff is stable, no bowel obstructions. The only difference is some post-radiation damage to your L5 which may be causing some sciatica. But other than that, nothing to worry about." The deep breath of relief that only comes after a clear scan left my body and I felt my muscles relax. The dreams of our trips to London and Paris in July and Turks and Caicos in August flooded my mind again and I smiled at the thought of a daily breakfast of Nutella on croissants. Then, as if reeling a strongly swimming fish back into my boat, the newly found dreams of babies that had started to fade away came flying back into my heart.

I called my mom and gave her the news, while simultaneously e-mailing Lily that we were good to get the baby train back on the tracks. But then I stood up and remembered that good scan results had no bearing on the fact that I was still in agonizing pain. I needed to fix it. "Call the sports medicine doctor. I e-mailed you his number," my mom insisted. And less than an hour later I was in the car, heading to his office.

I had barely made it down the hill from my house when my cellphone rang. When I saw the number my heart literally stopped beating. Why was Dr. L's office calling me back? "Hello?" I asked, hoping they had the wrong number. "Hi Suzanne," my favorite nurse sang out. Oh my GOD! She MEANT to call me again. What does she want? "So, I decided to have the pain management doctor look at your scan results..." Oh, GOD, Why? "and he saw something the radiologist didn't see." That's it. I'm definitely dying. "He's pretty sure you have a herniated disc but the only way to be sure is with an MRI. I spoke to Dr. L and he'll prescribe one if you want." That's ALL?! She called me back about a herniated disc?! "Oh my GOD! You scared the SHIT out of me!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I just wanted to try and help you with the pain!" I half laughed and half snorted as I told her I was on my way to the sports medicine office and would let her know if I needed anything else from Dr. L. Then I hung up, pulled over for a minute to make sure I wasn't going to pass out from the sudden drop in my blood pressure, then continued on to the next doctor.

The halls leading to the sports medicine office were painted green and white with framed photographs of NY Jets players lining the walls. Oh, how I hate football. Walking into the office wasn't much better, as Sports Center was playing on the TV and framed and autographed Jerseys and footballs were obnoxiously placed all over the waiting area. I filled out the proper forms, paid my copay and waited for my name to be called. When it was, I followed the physician's assistant into an exam room plastered with NY Islanders memorabilia. Why couldn't I have gotten the NY Yankees room? After I was given a super sexy pair of disposable shorts that could've held about seven of me, the PA checked the range of motion and strength of both of my legs. He asked a bunch of questions, told me it was odd that I'd have a herniated disc without knowing how I'd hurt myself, assured me the CT would've showed any serious problems then told me the doctor would be in shortly. After a few minutes and no more than ten words exchanged with the actual doctor I was told I needed an MRI to see exactly what was going on, physical therapy to fix it and prescription paid medication to make it bearable. Luckily they had an MRI machine right in the office so I didn't have to go anywhere in the rainstorm from Hell that was brewing outside. And then the PA came back to burst my bubble, "I'm so sorry but two of the NY Jets players were just brought in and they need the MRI machine, so we're gonna have to send you across the street to the hospital."

I HATE FOOTBALL!

Off to the hospital I swam, I mean drove in the torrential downpour. Surprisingly, I was taken in for testing immediately after signing in. "Have you had an MRI before?" Yes. "Are you claustrophobic?" No. "Here are some ear plugs." Thanks. "We're gonna pad each side of your head." Ok. "Don't move" Got it! The metal bed started to move and I closed my eyes as I went backwards into the black hole. Then the noises started and I pictured sledgehammers and machine guns. That wasn't working for me so I changed it to a beautiful island. A very loud, beautiful island. I actually started to fall asleep but when I did my body jerked. The beeping and buzzing stopped and I heard, "You moved on that last one. Just need to take a few more pictures. Hold still for about three minutes and we'll have you out of there." "No problem," I said. Until I made the mistake of opening my eyes. I've had about 50 scans over the last two years but I've never been dumb enough to open my eyes inside an MRI. You know that fear of being buried alive? Yeah, well, I LIVED IT! I seriously had no idea how tight it was in there! (That's what she said.) The top of the machine was so close to my face I probably could've stuck my tongue out and touched it. My heart started pounding like a kick drum and the buzzes and beeps started up again. Just three more minutes, I told myself. Just three more minutes.

I did it!

And now I have to wait for results. Again. But I'm learning how patient I can actually be when I'm not waiting for a death sentence!

Pain in the Ass

"Tomorrow? Yes, I can do that," I said to Dr. L's nurse. "Yes, I know I need to be there an hour early to drink that stuff. Do you know if he's just requesting a CT scan of the pelvis?" I waited while she checked the prescription and responded, "Looks like the usual pelvis, abdomen and chest CTs will be performed."

Are you confused? Isn't my three-month follow-up scan scheduled for the end of July? 

Let me back up a bit.

For those of you who are familiar with my original blog about my cancer treatment process, you'll remember how completely open and honest I was about every single detail of the journey. TMI or not, I wrote it all out for you to read. I don't intend to change my ways for this blog, though I really never expected to have to discuss my vagina this time. 

Surprise! I was wrong!

It began about three weeks ago. All of a sudden I started noticing a dull, aching sensation inside my vagina right at the "cuff" where it was sewn up after my hysterectomy. Understand that I'm not saying my vagina was sewn up. I'm all good there. But after my uterus was removed, Dr. L stitched up the very top part inside to make the cuff I'm referring to. Anyway, the pain started to come and go and seemed to shoot toward the left, which was the location of my original tumor two years ago. Needless to say, I freaked out. When you've had a history of cancer it's important to follow a simple rule my support group has put into place. Any new pain that lasts two weeks needs to be checked out by the oncologist. So I started counting the days.

Day one.

I felt a dull ache.

Day two.

Dull ache combined with some shooting pain.

Day three.

A phantom pain where my left ovary used to be appeared.

Day four.

I started noticing a random pain in my clavicle and another in my neck. Lymph nodes, maybe?

Day five.

The pains started to subside.

Day six.

Back to just a dull ache here and there.

Day seven.

Gone.

Ok, I guess I don't need to call the doctor. Whew!

But then came the phase two. About three days after the vaginal pain disappeared, I started to have that dull ache again...in my ass. Oh, sorry. In my rectum. 

Hmmm...this is new. 

In case you don't remember from my first blog, I had 28 cycles of external radiation as one of my treatments. Unlike chemo side effects, some of the side effects from radiation can last forever. I still have bowel issues and vaginal bleeding after sex. I leak urine throughout the day and things just generally hurt sometimes. But the butt sensation was new, and combined with the snoochie pain I'd had the week before, it scared me.

Should I call the doctor now?

My sensible side told me to call but everything was moving along with Lily and Jason and I really wanted to push it out of my head and will it to go away. I mean, last time everything in my life seemed to be going the way I wanted it to I ended up with cancer. Why would I think that couldn't happen again? Luckily, about three days of the pain in the ass came and went, then, finally it just went.

Ok, cool. I'll continue on with my plans.

And then, last Thursday, something else popped up. I was at the gym and I felt what seemed like a pinched nerve in my lower back, extending down the right cheek. I'm being proper here, but what I'm really saying is that I had another pain in my ass. This time I'd feel it any time I lifted my right leg to take a step. Yes, if I were a normal person I'd just assume I'd pulled something during a workout. But cancer "survivors" are not normal people. We are scared people.

This new annoyance continued through Friday and Saturday. By Saturday night, walking was becoming increasingly difficult, as it hurt with each step I took. Interestingly enough I was completely fine while sitting, standing still or lying down. I kept telling myself I had just pulled a muscle, but the longer I went without working out while still having the intensity increase, the more I started thinking it might be something worse.

Could it be a tumor?

Sunday was agony. I invited my parents over for dinner and the strain of cleaning up and cooking for everyone made the pain almost unbearable. Fear started creeping into my head like a monster, silently sneaking out of a child's closet late at night. I had to call the doctor first thing in the morning.

I woke up this morning, limped downstairs, moaned as I took the puppy outside to pee, grunted as I climbed back upstairs to wake the boys and whined as I held tightly onto the bannister and hobbled back downstairs to get everyone ready for school. I just wanted to wait for the kids to leave before I made the call to Dr. L's office so they wouldn't hear me.

But before I had a chance to make the call I noticed an e-mail from Tara congratulating Lily and me, once again, and giving each of us the other's contact information so we could start getting to know each other. Up until this point, Lily and my communications had been facilitated by Tara, not by direct contact. While my heart wanted to immediately reach out to this amazing woman and thank her for the gift of her uterus, my head put a stop to it. What if the cancer is back? What if this whole baby thing is all a big tease, like dangling a banana in a monkey's face then yanking it away before he has a change to get his hands on it?

But I didn't have much time to contemplate my next move before I heard...

Ding!

Click!

"Good morning, Suzanne!"

It was from Lily. I never thought she'd write first, but I was so excited that she did. We exchanged a few friendly notes back and forth, and, in between, I put in a call to Dr. L's office, explained my symptoms and was awaiting a call back. Nothing about my initial impression of Lily was swayed during our brief e-mail exchange. She still came across as totally down-to-Earth, easy to talk to and completely genuine. Should I tell her I'm waiting to hear back from the doctor?

Ring!

"Hello?"

"Hi Suzanne. I spoke to Dr. L and he wants to move your July CT scan to tomorrow."

Insert conversation from above here.

So that's where it stands. Tomorrow at 12:40 PM I'll be full of oral contrast with an IV dangling out of my arm, waiting to be filled with injectable contrast as I slide in and out of the giant internal picture machine. I have no idea when I'll have the results this time. Usually my scans are scheduled for the day before a follow-up appointment with my oncologist, but this time the nurse said, "After Dr. L reviews the results we'll see how he wants to proceed."

Awesome.

Hopefully I won't get a call saying, "We have the results but he needs to see you in person." Good or bad, a call like that will send me into hysterics. Basically, unless I get a call that immediately confirms that everything is ok, I'm gonna be a basket case. On the plus side, a surprise scan saves me the weeks of anxiety buildup that come with a scheduled scan. I don't have time to stress over it. I don't have a chance to bite everyone's head off the week leading up to it because I don't have a week to let it wear me down.

I have 11 hours. Wish me luck.

The Call

June 6th, 8:15 PM

I tried to keep myself busy and avoid watching the minutes turn on the clock. 

8:16 PM

One by one. 

8:17 PM

Very slowly.

8:18 PM

Only twelve more to go.

8:19 PM

"Jimmi! Are you coming down?"

"We still have like ten minutes to go. Relax!"

I refreshed Facebook for the thousandth time. Not much had changed in four minutes. I checked my e-mail again. No one had written. 

8:23 PM

I decided to reread the Home Study Report Tara had sent us this morning, which detailed her visit to Lily and her husband, Jason's house last night. Tara had not one negative word to say, and even after picking it apart sentence by sentence, I still couldn't find anything wrong with these people. Could this really be be happening for us?

8:29 PM

"Jimmi! It's time! Bring the other phone when you come in here, please."

Jimmi entered the kitchen, phone in hand. "Are you nervous?" I asked as I dialed the number Tara had e-mailed me. "No, not really. I'm sure it'll be fine." I heard the automated voice prompt me to enter my conference call PIN and I carefully punched in the numbers, took a deep breath and hit the pound key. 

"Hello!" Tara sang as the automated service announced our arrival. "Lily and I are here, so now we're just waiting for Jason to call in." There was a bit of silence on the line as we waited, but it was quickly broken as Jason entered the conference.

"Good, we're all here," Tara said. "Before we begin, I just want to go over everything we'll be talking about tonight. You'll all introduce yourselves and then we'll discuss what brought all of you to the decision to begin this journey. After that we'll talk about what you expect of your relationship before, during and after the pregnancy. Then we'll go over any medical questions you may have and discuss your support system and then I'll open it up to any other questions we may not have covered. So, Lily, let's start with you. Why don't you introduce yourself."

Lily started to speak and I thought to myself, 'This could be the voice my unborn baby will hear every day until she's born.' I listened as she told about her job in the donor services department of the hospital, where she collects blood and platelets that will be given to others in need. She talked about her two children and let us know that she and Jason still live in the town where she grew up. Though it doesn't matter to the welfare of our baby, I was thrilled to hear that Lily was very well-spoken and clearly had an education. Jason spoke next. He, too, sounded perfectly normal, like a down-to-Earth, good-natured guy who would give you the shirt off his back. Then it was my turn.

What should I say? If I make a bad impression, they could decide not to carry for us. Then we'll be back to step one! Why am I so nervous? I've never had trouble making friends. Hell, I've never had trouble talking at all! Just say something, Suzanne!

"Hi, I'm Suzanne. I grew up in New Jersey and I lived in New York while I was in college at Syracuse University. I also lived in New York City for a few summers while I was interning. I worked in the music industry for a few years until I got married the first time and had my kids." Should I have mentioned the first marriage? Was that a turn-off? Well, they know I have kids so I guess mentioning the circumstances in which they were born isn't off limits, right? "After I had the kids I left work to be a full-time mom. I met Jimmi about seven years ago. Then, two years ago, four months before our wedding, I found out I had a super rare form of cervical cancer. I had to have a hysterectomy and radiation and chemo. I wore a wig at my wedding, but we got married!" Ok, Suzanne, put a cork in it. Let someone else talk. Have I mentioned my habit of nervous chatter? 

Lily jumped in, "I saw your wedding pictures in the profile Tara sent us. I never would've known you were wearing a wig. You looked beautiful." Awww. That was sweet. Then she continued, "And I actually think we have the same wedding date. I read some parts of your blog (my original blog about my cancer journey) and I think it's the same. September third, right?" How random is that? Maybe it's a sign! They got married on September 3rd, we got married on September 3rd, logically, that means she needs to have our babies for us, doesn't it? 

And then Jimmi was called upon to speak for the first time. I'll admit, I was a little bit worried about what might come out of his mouth. Jimmi is a super sweet guy with a huge heart, but sarcasm is a big thing with him and to someone who doesn't know him, it may not be taken well. "Hi, I'm Jimmi. I grew up in Upstate New York, near Woodstock. I'm a drummer. I love all animals. I have a younger brother and both of my parents are still alive." Whew! Ok, he did well.

Tara took over the reigns again and asked if any of us had any questions for each other before continuing on. Jason did. "I have a question for Jimmi. Who have you played drums for?" I saw the sparkle in my husband's eyes as the chance to talk about touring the country and playing in front of thousands of people presented itself. 

"Ok, if no one has any other questions, let's move on," Tara directed. "Suzanne, since you already spoke about what brought you to this journey, maybe we can hear from Lily about how she decided she wanted to be a surrogate." Lily explained how she started thinking about helping another couple's dreams come true after her son was born, five years ago. Then she really looked into it three years ago, after she gave birth to her daughter. But it seemed to be fate that brought Lily to her first experience actually carrying a baby for someone else when she saw a post from her cousin on Facebook asking if anyone would be interested in being a surrogate for her and her husband. Lily offered to help and the miracle baby was born in December 2012. The joy in seeing her cousin's happiness led Lily to her decision to bring a child to another couple in need.

This woman is amazing.

But Lily isn't the only one making this decision. Jason supports her decision as well, and wants to be totally involved in all aspects of the ride. Ok, so far everything sounded copacetic. Now we had to figure out our involvement in a resulting pregnancy. Oh, PLEASE let them want us to be a part of everything. PLEASE!

"We want them to be involved and come to any appointments they can make," Lily began. Ok, good start. "My cousin and her husband were there for everything, so it wouldn't be weird for me." Tara broke in, "What about the birth? Would you feel comfortable having them in the room during delivery?" This was the question I needed answered. I mean, I'd assumed any carrier would probably be ok with me being there, but Jimmi was another story. Would it be uncomfortable to have some random guy in there watching her give birth? Seriously, at that point about 50 people will have been up the poor woman's cooch, but Jimmi isn't a doctor or a nurse or any part of the medical team. But he would be the baby's father. I would really want him to be there. "Oh, absolutely," Lily immediately replied. "I would expect them to be there. When I did this for my cousin, Jason originally didn't want her husband in the room. I looked at him and asked if the roles were reversed and it was HIS baby, wouldn't he want to be there for the birth? And that totally made him understand." Jason added, "Now I'd find it weird if the baby's father WASN'T there to watch." Could this really be happening? "I just hope I don't pass out!" Jimmi joked, "I saw that video in health class and it scared the shit outta me!" I shot him a look and he quickly rephrased, "I mean crap!"

It felt like we were all on the same page...so far.

"Lily, what kind of relationship do you hope to have with the intended parents before, during and after the pregnancy?" Tara questioned. Again I held my breath, hoping Lily's reply would match our desires. "Well, I would hope it could become a friendship. We really want a couple we can get along with and easily talk to." The same question was directed at me regarding our carrier. "Obviously you can't force a friendship, but I hope that's what it could become. Someone who would have a big enough heart to carry another couple's baby is clearly an amazing person, so I would think a friendship would easily happen. We want to know everything that's going on with the pregnancy without being annoying, if that's possible. Ideally, we'd love to be at every appointment, but being in two different states could make that difficult. And after the pregnancy I would hope to keep in touch and send photos of the baby. I mean, this is a pretty huge deal. I don't expect to be like, hey! Thanks for the kid. See ya later!" After a few giggles on the line, Lily said, "By the way, my OB is really great. He did an ultrasound at every appointment and took lots of pictures for my cousin. I'm sure he can do that again so you'd be able to see everything, even if you couldn't be there."

Yes!

"Ok, I don't really need to go over the medicines and injections that Lily will need because she and Jason are familiar with the process from their past experience. But I do need to talk about a very uncomfortable subject because it's important that we're all on the same page," Tara explained. "What is everyone's feeling about selective reduction? I know Suzanne and Jimmi are hoping to implant two embryos, which may or may not lead to twins. But there is a small chance the embryos could split and you'd have triplets or quadruplets. What are your thoughts? Suzanne?" As I watched the blood drain from Jimmi's face, I responded, "You should see Jimmi right now! ha! But seriously, if everyone is healthy, meaning babies and carrier, there's no way we'd reduce just to have less children. But if there is a health risk to anyone we'd really have to think about what's best. Our goal here is to have a baby, not put anyone in danger." Then Tara asked another question, "What if there is just one baby but find out there's a severe defect and the child wouldn't ever be able to live a fulfilling life?" The answers I gave at that moment could definitely make or break this union. I didn't want to offend anyone, but I had to be honest. If we end up in that situation, having a surprise change of heart could be devastating for everyone involved. I answered, "Well, honestly, I would never want to have a child who lives in constant pain or can't enjoy life. It's just not fair to the baby. We'd really have to think about it, but we'd want the option to terminate if it's in the best interest of the child." Was that a terrible thing to say? Tara asked Lily the same question. Lily said, "I really had to think about this one. But in the end we've decided we'd leave the decision up the the parents."

Does she really mean that or did I just blow it with my honesty?

"Ok," Tara announced, "I hate that question so let's quickly move on!" From that point on everything went pretty smoothly. We discussed our support systems to make sure our families and friends were on board. They asked what Dylan and Justin thought about this possibility and I told them how excited they were. Then I asked Lily what she had told her kids when she helped her cousin out last year. "Well, my daughter was too young to really understand. I told my son that my cousin had a broken tummy and my tummy was good for making babies, so the doctor took her tiny baby and put it into my tummy to grow and I would give it back when it's ready." That was a great answer. "And about five minutes later he came back and asked how they got the baby into my tummy! We told him it was magic!" 

It kind of seems like magic, doesn't it?

As the conversation came to a close, Tara let us all know that we should take some time to think about everything and decide if this would be a good match for us. It was Thursday night and she asked us to please give her an answer by Monday. Of course, if we made our decision before then, we were invited to let her know sooner. "I've had couples hang up the phone and immediately send me an email with their answer, but you don't need to do that." Little Miss Impatient was sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear, "You're totally gonna do that." I flicked her off like a mosquito so I could say my goodbyes to Lily and Jason. And as we were hanging up, Jason let out a totally sincere and heartfelt sentiment, "No matter what happens, know we're praying for you and hoping everything will be ok." I'm not the most religious person in the world, but I always accept prayers. And I just knew...

These were good people.

We hung up the phone and I gave Jimmi the doe-eyed stare. "They seemed really nice," he said. Little Miss Impatient was sitting on my shoulder again. "So? Can I e-mail Tara and say yes?" Never one to rush into anything, he replied, "We don't have to answer until Monday. Let's just think about it." I was annoyed. "What's to think about? We want a baby, I can't have a baby, this selfless woman and her husband have agreed to help us have a baby. And, from the sound of it, it seems like the two of you would really enjoy having a few beers while I take Lily on her first trip to New York City!" He agreed, "I know, but I don't want to sound too desperate." Dude! We ARE desperate! "Desperate would've been accepting the first, or ANY of the candidates from Agency A. This match is perfect. They are exactly what we've been looking for." If I've learned anything about Jimmi over the last seven years, it's not to push him on important decisions. Even if he knows exactly what he wants, he always takes a day or two to let it sink in before giving his final answer. I wasn't worried that he'd reject Lily and Jason, I was just anxious and wanted him to accept them RIGHT NOW!

But I had to wait.

And I didn't only have to wait on Jimmi's official, "Yes!" I also had to wait and see if Lily and Jason still wanted to do this for us. What if we gave the wrong answers? What if Jimmi's accidental "shit" was the deal breaker? Maybe something about us just rubbed them the wrong way? They were just as much a part of this decision as we were. It could be totally possible that they would turn us down. 

I went to bed wondering how it would all turn out...

Luckily for my wonderful readers I was too tired to finish this entry last night. Know what that means? It means you don't have to endure another cliffhanger to read what happened next!

Jimmi had to go into the city for rehearsal today and he left before we had a chance to talk. When he got there he texted me, "It's raining so there wasn't any street parking. Had to put the car in the garage and it's gonna cost a fortune!" I took my opportunity, "That sucks. I won't be mad at you if you let me answer Tara now." I laughed at my marvelous ability to throw a nag into any conversation. The response Beep! was much quicker than I'd expected. "Yes!! Grumble!!" he wrote, and I could almost picture him shaking his head with the knowledge that I'd never allow him to make me wait any longer than he already had. "Really??" I replied, but didn't bother to wait for his confirmation before emailing Tara: "If Lily and Jason are on board, so are we!"

What if they're not "on board"? Or what if they've decided not to give Tara their decision until Monday. How will I hold Little Miss Impatient at bay?

Ding! 

Click!

Tara wrote back:

"Ha. They emailed me as soon as you were off the phone saying they would be honored to go on this journey with you!!!

I will send you both the next steps by the end of the day.

YEAH!!!!!"

Wait, what?

No Way.

Seriously?

We're matched?

We're matched???

WE'RE MATCHED!!!!!!

 

From A to B

Ring! Ring!

"Thank you for calling Agency B. How may I help you?"

"Hi, my name is Suzanne. I literally just sent an email to your agency like five minutes ago but I got impatient and decided to call you instead." There, that didn't sound too desperate. Or did it?

I could almost hear the smile on the other end of the line as the faceless voice said, "Don't worry. You're not the first person who's told me that. How can we help you today?" I immediately felt more at ease, but suddenly was at a complete loss for words. Yes, really. I had to say something so I just opened my mouth and hoped for the best. "Um, well, I had called about a year ago for some information from your agency but the timing wasn't really right for us because I was waiting on CT scans and stuff and we weren't really sure what was going to happen so," Stop rambling, Suzanne. She doesn't need your entire life story. Get to the point! "Basically, we've decided we're ready to have a baby. Can you help us?" I held my breath until I heard her excitedly say, "That's great! Of course we can work with you. You'll need to speak with Tara first. She's the Director of Client Relations and she'll go over all of the details with you. I'll shoot her an email and give her your information." I thanked her about 17 times before hanging up the phone, and as soon as I did, I heard the familiar notification of an incoming email.

Ding! 

Click.

Dear Suzanne,

My name is Tara and I'm the Director of Client Relations for Agency B...

Wow. That was fast! Tara thanked me for my interest in Agency B and attached two packets of information, one was an Intended Parent Introduction, which provided an overview of the agency and gestational surrogacy program. She made sure to reiterate that all of the carriers are pre-screened before they are entered into the database. The screening includes medical, psychological, insurance review (to see if the carrier's plan covers surrogacy) home study and more. The second attachment was a Cost Information sheet, explaining the fees we should expect. What stood out right away was that the agency fees were all-inclusive. With the exception of separate legal fees, and the carrier fee, there wouldn't be any hidden costs that would surprise us five months into the pregnancy. Tara wrote that I should take some time to read the attachments and then let her know if I wanted to set up a time to talk. I'm pretty sure skimming the documents took about four minutes then I wrote her back and asked, "Are you available tomorrow?"

Our call was scheduled for the next day, May 8, 2013, at 1:30 PM. Not gonna lie. I was so excited but so scared I'd be let down again. Agency B really seemed too good to be true. There had to be a catch. Maybe they had a three-year waiting period. Or maybe they only posted photos of the few healthy-looking carriers they had online, and the rest would turn out to be just as unappealing as the ones from Agency A. What if Agency B really WAS all that but they wouldn't work with us because we'd signed a contract with Agency A? Should I even tell Tara about that? Should I lie? I told myself I'd figure it out after getting a feel for how the conversation was going, and that was the end of my over-obsessive thoughts. Well, at least for that day.

May 8, 2013. I hadn't been that nervous just waiting for a phone call since after my first date with Jimmi! At 1:30 on the nose, the caller ID announced an incoming call from Agency B. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat and, in my most chipper tone, answered, "Hello?" Tara barely got her greeting and introduction out of her mouth before I busted in with, "Before we get into this conversation, I need to be completely honest with you," I felt like I was explaining my infidelity to an unsuspecting partner. "We've been working with another agency and we have a contract. I asked them if we could look elsewhere since we aren't having any luck with them and they told me we could. Is that ok? Do you have a problem with that?" I was able put a cork in my verbal diarrhea long enough to let her answer, "Oh, I'm sorry you haven't had a good experience with this journey so far. Let's fix that!" And that was it. From that sentence on, every word out of Tara's mouth sounded like I was about to win the MegaMillions Jackpot. Sure, we'd still need to fill out papers and wait for a carrier, but something about Agency B just seemed so perfect.

Tara gave me some information about the pre-screening process for the carriers and explained that she performs all of the home studies herself. That means she travels to each carrier, no matter where she lives, and checks out her house, her family, the food in the pantry and the refrigerator, the nearest hospital, the airport and the neighborhood herself so that she can report her findings to the Intended Parents, without hiring an outside agency to do it. She also told me that Agency B would not take any money from us until we find a potential match. She didn't think it was right to take money when she hadn't done anything for us yet. Bonus! 

"How many approved carriers do you have in your database right now?" I asked, hoping for a really high number. "Let me look. Well, right now we have five," That's definitely not high. "But," she continued, "there are currently six others in various stages of the pre-screening process. Once they pass the medical review and background checks, I have no problem starting to talk about them with Intended Parents, as long as they understand that the screening isn't completed yet." That seemed fair. "How long does the matching process usually take?" I asked, knowing this would be the heartbreaker. "Well, let me think. The longest one took about five months, but that's only because the Intended Parents wanted a strict vegan who ate all organic foods." 

Silence.

Breathe, Suzanne!

"Five months? That's all? You found an organic vegan in FIVE months?!" Tara giggled and I continued, "I've been waiting five months with the other agency already, and I've only seen two profiles for women I wouldn't want to babysit my cat, let alone carry my child!" Tara said, "Oh dear. You know, there was another couple who came to me on, let me look...March twenty-ninth. They'd been working with an agency called Agency A..." "That's the same one!" I interrupted. "Yes, well, the woman called me so upset that she'd been with them for a year and she'd gotten matched three times. Each time she was matched, something fell through in the screening process since the carriers aren't pre-screened. She finally came to us and we matched her two weeks ago." I started doing math in my head, which is no easy feat for me. Let me see...March 29th to May 8th is six weeks, minus two weeks..."You matched her in FOUR weeks? Are you KIDDING?" "Not at all, " Tara assured me. "Would you want to speak to her? I'm sure she wouldn't mind." I agreed to that and told Tara to give this lucky woman my email address and phone number. We ended the call with Tara promising to send me the Intended Parent Profile for Jimmi and I to fill out and send back so she could start looking into matches for us, and I hung up the phone smiling. I had that weird feeling again.

Hope.

Within about an hour of hanging up with Tara I received an email from Sally, the woman who had been matched through Agency B in four weeks. After a few exchanges back and forth, I finally picked up the phone and called her. Sally reminded me of myself in so many ways. She was bubbly and outgoing and totally open about her experiences with infertility and Agency A and Agency B. Her views of Agency A were very similar to what mine had become, only she'd been through much more drama than we had. "Do you get the feeling they're scraping the bottom of the barrel for their carriers?" she asked me cautiously. "Oh my GOD! Yes! I'm so glad you said that because I thought I was just being picky!" She told me about the terrible profiles she'd seen and all of the problems she'd had the three times she'd actually been matched through Agency A. One of the carriers had a partner with a history of violence, once lived with four adults and seven kids in a one-bedroom apartment and I can't remember what happened with the other. Bottom line was that because the carriers weren't pre-screened, each time she was matched, she and her husband would get their hopes up, pay the matching fee (nonrefundable, of course) and have to wait for the screening to be done. Each time a carrier failed more time and money was wasted. But then Sally started to tell me about her experience with Agency B and Tara. She praised them on every level, even comparing Agency A to an iPhone 4 and Agency B to an iPhone 5. Yes, the 4 works and it's cool and all, but when Apple made the 5 they fixed everything that was wrong with the 4, added even more features and made it work so much better. I liked that analogy. During the conversation Sally sent me a picture of her carrier, who she'd spoken to on the phone and over email and was planning to meet in a few weeks. The woman was BEAUTIFUL! Her husband and her kids were beautiful! The description of her life was beautiful! Was this a fluke or would Tara be able to perform the same miracle for us?

Jimmi had barely gotten through the door at 11:00 that night when I shoved the paper under his nose and instructed him to, "Sign it!" "What is it?" he asked. "It's for Agency B! Just sign it!" He smiled, shook his head and did what he was told. I quickly ran off with the fully completed and signed Intended Parent Profile in my hand and faxed it to Tara before Jimmi could change his mind. I watched the pages go through the machine, catching some of the details I'd written as they went by. We were music lovers, we had cats and dogs, we wanted a carrier who would allow us to be completely involved in the pregnancy, we wanted a healthy woman who would take care of herself, etc. And then the beep! beep! beep! told me the information had been received and our new journey had officially begun. 

At 10:44 the next morning, I was hanging up some clothes in my closet when I heard my phone vibrate. It was an email from Tara, which I'd assumed was a confirmation that she'd received our completed IP Portrait. Well, I was half correct...

Good morning, Suzanne,

I was wondering if you had a moment to talk. I read over your Portrait and wanted to discuss a possible candidate with you. :-)

Tara

Wait. What? I had to be reading that incorrectly. She had a WHAT? I checked the time. It hadn't even been 12 hours since I'd sent back the forms, and logically, about 8 of those hours should've been spent sleeping! This could not be happening so quickly. No way.

Hi Tara!

I'm free right now if that works for you.

Ring!

"Hello?" "Hi Suzanne," Tara said with a giggle that told me she probably knew she might have someone for us yesterday, but wanted to wait until she'd read our profile before mentioning her to me. "Before I discuss this candidate with you I want to make sure I'm not moving too fast for you." Are you KIDDING me, lady? "No, not at all. I'm actually shocked to hear from you this quickly. Tell me everything!" Tara went on to give me an overall, basic description of this woman, which made me wonder if maybe I was still asleep and dreaming. "Ok, so, after reading your Portrait, I immediately thought of Lily for you. I want you to know that she's still in the middle of the pre-screening process, so she's not officially approved yet. But she and her husband passed the background check and I received her medical records today. I'm not a doctor, but my review doesn't send up any red flags. I've sent it on to the fertility clinic for a full check, which should be done next week." Sounds good. Keep talking! "Lily is 30 years old, she's been married for eight years, she has a 3 year-old and a 5 year-old, she's a nurse and she actually carried a baby for her cousin last year. Her BMI is currently 28, but it's only that high because she's still carrying some of the baby weight." 28 is high? In five months I haven't seen anything under 33! "What do you think so far?" There had to be a catch. "She sounds great!" Then Tara said, "But there is one thing you should know." Oh, ok. Here's the catch. What's wrong with her? "She's currently using an IUD as birth control. She's agreed to have it removed as soon as her medical review is completed, but your lab will require a two-month waiting period from the time it comes out to the time she's implanted." That's it? THAT'S the catch? I let out a sigh and said, "That's actually perfect. It'll give Jimmi time to get his panic attacks under control and it'll get me through my next CT scan at the end of July." Oh, how I hate having to plan my life around scans. "Great!" Tara said happily, "I'll keep you posted, but don't hesitate to call me with any questions." And we hung up.

I stood there, still in my closet, with the phone in my hand. What just happened? Did we really just find a potential match in TWELVE HOURS? Can't be. Should I call Agency A and tell them how much they suck? No, I need to take a few steps back and wait it out a little bit. Lily isn't even fully screened yet. But I should call Jimmi and get his heart attack out of the way. 

Ring!

"Hello?"

"She matched us!"

Dead air.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi. Are you kidding? Already?" 

Poor guy sounded like he was gonna throw up.

"I swear! It's not a done deal yet, but she's been marked for us if she passes everything. She sounds so great!"

"Wow," was all Jimmi could manage at that point. Guess he thought he'd have a little more time before he had to put on his big boy pants!

After Jimmi and I hung up, I shot a quick email to Tara. I wondered if she'd be able to send us a picture of Lily, just so I could get a visual of the woman who may hold the key to our dreams in her uterus. Within minutes a photo of a happy, blonde, blue-eyed, totally wholesome-looking, normal woman popped up on my screen. From what I could see, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. 

Over the next week or so I noticed my entire mindset about babies had changed. Before the call to Agency B, I had become very bitter towards pregnant woman and new mothers. Just looking at a protruding, round belly or a cuddly newborn would send me over the edge. I'd leave the room to cry or scream about how unfair life had become. But the promise of Lily changed all that. I immediately called my very pregnant friend and invited her out to dinner. I spoke to her with genuine interest in her impending adventure into motherhood. I felt the baby move inside her without the urge to jump in front of the next truck I saw driving down the road. This hope thing was really working for me. 

As I've mentioned many, many times, I am NOT a patient person. The weeks I had to wait for the screening to be completed dragged on in my mind, though it really hadn't been that long. Then, on May 23rd, I received an email from Agency A. "Profile for you," it said. I never bothered to tell Agency A that I didn't want to work with them anymore. I mean, what if something went wrong with Agency B? I wanted to keep all of my options open until a contract with a carrier was signed. I opened the profile from the first agency and this is what I saw:

Age: 26

Marital Status: Single/Never been married

Current City: Las Vegas

Number of Children: 4 (between 2 and 9)

Health Insurance: No

Main Reason for Applying: Need the money

Ever Been Arrested?: Yes. Spent 2 nights in jail.

Ok, so what I'm gathering here is that this woman is basically a prostitute. Never been married, 26 years old and FOUR kids? How can she support four kids on her own without health insurance?! But, hey, at least her BMI was only 18.2!

Then I continued to read, just to see what other fun facts I could find. 

**Not willing to carry multiples due to her small size**

Really? First they send me carriers who are five times my size and then they send me one who is so small I'd have to abort one of my kids if she ended up pregnant with twins? Awesome. I wrote back, "Sorry, but I can't accept a carrier who will not carry multiples." Back into the pool she goes!

And then, on May 29th, I opened the email I'd been waiting for. Lily had cleared all of her pre-screening process, with the exception of her home study which was set up for June 5th. If we felt comfortable, we could sign the agency agreement, speak to a recommended attorney and get things moving for real! 

Ummm...YES, PLEASE!!

The events of that afternoon went so quickly and so much was accomplished. Unfortunately, Jimmi was in TN recording a drum video, so he wouldn't be able to sign anything until the following day, but that didn't stop Tara and me from jumping on the horse and riding the trail without him! Tara asked me to send over a ton of photos of our family so she could add them to the profile she was making about us that she would send to Lily and her husband. She also sent an introduction email to a surrogacy law attorney, who then called me to get things rolling on that end. Tara then completed our profile and sent it to me for proofreading and editing before sending it to Lily. I also received Lily's profile with photos of her family and a more in-depth description of their lives. Tara and I went back and forth until 9:00 that night until we were both happy with everything we'd accomplished. And the next day I received another profile from Agency A:

Age: 21

Number of Children: 2 (had the first one at age 15, had the 2nd at age 17 but gave him up for adoption)

Marital Status: Single

Do You Currently Have a Sexual Partner? Yes. We're just friends for now, but we're talking a lot so it might become more.

WHAT!?! Holy GOD! Does this agency even read what these women are writing! I didn't even bother sending a reply to that one. I am SO done with Agency A!

Jimmi came home from TN on the night of May 30th. Within minutes I had his signature on the official agency agreement and into the fax machine it went. The next day Tara emailed me to let me know Lily had had her IUD removed. 

And the two-month countdown began.

Woohoo! We're finally caught up to today, June 3, 2013. So now what? How does this process work? Well, let me explain the next steps. On Wednesday, Tara will head out to MN, where Lily lives, and perform her home study. If all goes well, on Thursday, Jimmi and I will have a conference call with Lily and her husband to see if we all feel comfortable enough to have a baby together. If we still agree to move forward, we'll have the lawyer draft up a surrogacy agreement so everything is legal. Then we'll set up a time to fly Lily and her husband to NJ to meet them and then we'll all need to go to the fertility clinic for "Clinic Day." Basically they'll do a bunch of testing and talk to all of us about what to expect. If THAT goes well, Lily will start injecting herself with hormones to get her body ready for the embryo transfer. And that would be the final step. We'd fly her back to our lab to have our buns transferred to Lily's oven, where, hopefully, they'll grow into healthy little babies! Hmmm...I keep writing babies instead of baby. Wonder what that's about? ;)

So that's the plan! Just a few more steps and one more CT scan to get through before we make our first attempt at knocking up our baby mama!

Baby Steps

As we sat anxiously in the waiting area of Agency A, I was overwhelmed with a strange feeling that had become foreign to me over the last year or so. I think it was hope. For the first time in months, I wasn't waiting for a doctor's appointment or a chemo infusion or a radiation blast or a CT scan. Instead I was surrounded by wall hangings with quotes about dreams coming true and photos of happy babies. My heart started to beat a little faster, and my fingers tapped nervously on my thighs.

"Are you excited?" I asked Jimmi. He motioned to a magazine on the table with a headline about the high rate of gestational carriers birthing twins, shot me a mischievous grin and quipped, "My life is over!" I giggled and grabbed his hand, secretly hoping we would be doubly blessed.

"Suzanne and Jimmi?" called the receptionist. We both stood up. "Shelly will see you now."

Shelly is not only the owner of Agency A, but also an attorney who specializes in surrogacy law. As we sat down in her office, which was very underdone, with only a basic desk, a computer and some family photos on the windowsill, we listened as she told us about her personal surrogacy journey. Shelly explained that her children had been carried by someone else, so she understood what we were going through. She went on to tell us about her agency and what to expect during the process of finding a carrier for our baby. It all sounded so promising. We would just have to sign some papers, fill out some forms about what we're looking for in a carrier, wait until we're matched, implant the lucky lady with our embryos and voila! Baby time!

"How long does it usually take?" I asked. "Depending on how specific you are about what kind of carrier you'd like to find, it could take anywhere from a few months to a year to get matched. After that it'll be about three months for the medical review, testing, background check, home study and contract negotiations. Then she'll have to start on medications to prepare her for the transfer. Then, hopefully she'll get pregnant." My smile faded as that timeframe was a slightly unexpected. Start to finish, we could be looking at almost two years! I mean, I'd told Jimmi this process would take a REALLY long time, but I mainly said that to get his ass in motion, not because I actually believed it!

Once we finished asking Shelly all of our questions she directed us to the conference room to meet with our Intended Parent or IP Coordinator, Joan. Joan was a no nonsense, strait to the point type of woman whose main goal was to find out what we would or wouldn't accept in a carrier. "If you don't want someone of a certain color or religion, you need to make sure you mark that on the forms. My job isn't to judge your choices, it's to get information. The more information I have about what you're willing to accept, the better I'll be at matching you. I will tell you the less picky you are, the quicker you'll find someone. The best thing to do is pick the one or two qualities that are most important to you and try to be a little more open to the others. You're obviously not gonna find someone exactly like you. But we'll try to get close."

Joan showed us a sample profile of an actual carrier Agency A had used. The woman was a translator for hearing impaired children, she was married, had two kids and had health insurance. A carrier with health insurance was a rare find, as we were told by both Joan and Shelly. We could wait for one, but it would just make the process take longer. Since our own health insurance company wouldn't cover a gestational carrier, we would have to purchase private coverage for our surrogate for a rather ridiculous sum. "Can we use this one?" I asked, on the off-chance this perfect specimen might be available. "Sorry," Joan smiled. "She's in the middle of a sibling project right now."

As I was adding up the costs of this journey in my head, I started to feel a little bit flustered. There was the initial consultation fee that had been collected upon our entrance into the office. Then, if we decided to sign with Agency A, we'd need to send a deposit check that would go toward the total agency fee. Then there would be the carrier's fee, the attorney's fee, private health insurance, the remainder of the agency fee, maternity clothes, travel for us to the carrier's home state, travel for the carrier and her partner, if any, to New Jersey, and any additional costs that would inevitably arise over the nine months of pregnancy.

So, in short, we'd need to pay a small fortune to have our own baby.

Damn cancer!

We finished up with Joan, took the packets of paperwork she handed us and left the office. I had already made up my mind that I would do whatever needed to be done to bring our baby into the world. I looked at Jimmi with pleading eyes, "So? What do you think?" He put his arms around me and said, "Whatever you'd like to do, Pumpkin. If you feel comfortable, let's do it." The waterworks started up for like the millionth time that year. Only this time I was crying happy tears.

I immediately got to work on the "What Are You Looking For In a Carrier?" questionnaire when I got home. Jimmi was at work and left me in charge of all the decisions. Some of the questions were easily answered: Would you accept a carrier of another religion than your own? Sure, we would. Easy! Would you accept a carrier who is not married? I don't see why not. Moving on. Would you accept a carrier who would not abort for any reason? Wait, what? Why are we aborting the baby we want to have so desperately? There were actually quite a few questions about aborting or "selective reduction" on the forms. I guess it's important to be on the same page with the baby mama and the baby's parents about whether or not we'd want to knock the pregnancy down from two to one fetus, or abort an unhealthy one.

I answered the questions to the best of my abilities, knowing in my heart that I'd checked the "yes" boxes for traits and qualities I really didn't feel 100% comfortable accepting. But, hey, no one said we'd have to agree to the first or even the second woman whose profile was sent to us. I figured it was best to keep it pretty open and then narrow it down as we go. I knew they had to interview each prospective carrier before accepting them into their agency anyway, so how bad could they be?

I waited a week before I sent in the finalized paperwork and our initial deposit check because I had a scan coming up. As I've mentioned, I always plan the big stuff around my scans so I can make sure I'll be able to do whatever it is I'm planning. But this one was different. Obviously, since it's now June and I'm writing about something that happened in January, the scan was fine. But what about the next one? And the one after that? This isn't like planning a vacation or going to a concert. This is a plan that will continue through every scan I ever have. What if the next scan is ok and then our baby mama gets pregnant? That's awesome, right? But then, what if the following scan shows the cancer is back? Then we'll be expecting a baby while dealing with more treatments and more stress and the possibility of our baby only ending up with one parent. Is it really smart to do this now?

Well, if not now, when? I don't imagine a time in the foreseeable future that I won't be afraid. Waiting the typical five-year, post-treatment period to be considered cured is an option, I guess. But then I'll be 41, and if I'm still around, I'll have wasted all of those years I could've been spending with my baby. Besides, the five-year thing isn't foolproof either. One of the women on my Small Cell support group was cancer-free for 11 years when it came back, ravaged her body and killed her. No amount of time passing will ever make me feel safe. And that was how our decision was made. My January scan came back clear and the check was in the mail.

And then the waiting began.

As weeks turned to months without so much as one carrier profile to view, I started to feel disheartened. What was taking so long? We barely had any restrictions on the carriers, other than wanting a healthy, non-smoking, non-alcoholic, non-drug abuser. That wasn't too much to ask.

And then, finally, it happened. It was the first week of March, exactly two months after signing the contracts, when Joan called. "Hi Suzanne! I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be emailing your first carrier profile to you in a few minutes. Normally I'll just send the profiles over, but since this is your first, I wanted to give you a heads up." I was so excited I was barely able to respond. But she continued anyway, "She looks really good. I spoke to her myself and she seemed great! The only small problem I can see is that her BMI is a bit high." As someone who works out regularly, I am fully aware that BMI stands for Body Mass Index, which is the estimated amount of body fat based on someone's height and weight. "How high is it?" I asked as I tried to remember how much mine was the last time I'd checked it. "Thirty-four point three," she answered. I was silent, thinking that seemed more than a little high. "Hmmm. How much does she weigh?" I asked while frantically typing my statistics into the BMI calculator I'd just pulled up online. "She's five foot four and weight about two-hundred and twenty pounds."

My excitement turned to defeat as I stared at the screen in front of me which was showing my personal BMI at a 20. Honestly, I have no problem with people of any size or shape. If you're a good person, I'll love you no matter how you look. But if you're going to be carrying my baby, I need you to be healthy. It kills me that I can't do this myself, but I know if I could, my chances of gestational diabetes or high blood pressure during pregnancy would be super low. I just wasn't desperate enough to put my baby at risk.

"Wow. Wouldn't there be more health risks associated with a larger carrier?" I asked as carefully as I could. Joan responded nonchalantly, "Well, your fertility clinic allows carries with a BMI up to thirty-five, so she's under the limit. Just take a look at her profile and let me know what you think."

I hung up the phone and looked back at the BMI chart on my computer screen. Anything over 30 is considered obese. Above 35 is morbidly obese, and this carrier was pushing the limit there. I couldn't believe our clinic would allow a number that high. But I decided to keep an open mind and review the profile that was waiting in my inbox.

With one click of the button, everything about this stranger, minus her last name, was there for me to read. Ok, she's 24 years old, single, has a 6 year-old son, lives in Texas, doesn't have health insurance, makes $1600 per month and her main reason for applying to be a carrier is because she needs the money. I'm not stupid. I understand that one of the main draws for a woman to offer up her uterus is the almighty dollar. But I was kinda hoping for someone who wasn't basing her entire decision on the compensation. Is it too much to ask to find a woman who really loves being pregnant, has a huge heart and just wants to help our dreams come true?

And then there were the photos.

Yes, she was on the heavy side, but she used some clever camera angles used to show her in her best light. But then I saw the pictures of her with her 6 year-old. The poor kid looked like he lived on a strict diet of McDonald's and Waffle House, which was actually the menu in front of him. All I could see when I looked at the two of them was unhealthy eating choices. I tried to be openminded, but the welfare of my baby was just too much to compromise. I hit reply:

Dear Joan,

Thank you so much for the profile. Unfortunately, we're going to have to pass. Can you please make a note in our file that we'd only like to consider carriers with a BMI under 30?

Thanks,

Suzanne

I then called Jimmi to whine about my fleeting high hopes that had been dashed with one click of my mouse. Oh well. She was only the first profile we were given. You should never jump on the first one, right? The best things come to those who wait, right? UGH! Patience has never been my strongest quality.

Luckily, we only waited one more week before the next profile graced my inbox:

Hi Suzanne,

I've attached another profile for you. This one's BMI is lower than the last one.

Let me know,

Joan

Click!

Ok, another Texan. Hmmm. She's 42. We'd put an age limit of 40 on our initial paperwork. No insurance for this one either. She's single, too. Income of $1200 per month. Doing this for the money. BMI 33.4.

33.4?! Are you KIDDING?

I barely even looked at the photos of this one longer than it took to notice the can of Coke sitting in front of her at the restaurant table before I hit reply:

Hi Joan,

As I mentioned before, we'd really like a carrier with a BMI under 30.

Thanks,

Suzanne

I was kind of pissed that my request wasn't taken into consideration the first time.

Ding! Click.

Hi Suzanne,

Duly noted. I'll revise your criteria.

Joan

Why did I need to tell her twice before she took me seriously?

I called Jimmi to whine again. Then I complained to my mom. Then I posted another desperate plea on Facebook asking if any of my friends had a uterus I could borrow.

As the weeks went by without a word from Joan, hopelessness started to set in. March turned to April and April meant scan time. All the crazy thoughts in my brain always multiply by the thousands each time my scan day draws near. This time I was convinced that the Universe knew my cancer was back so we weren't supposed to find a carrier because I'd probably die anyway. Yes, I am seeing a shrink. Why do you ask?

Anyway, the scan was clear in April and I shot an impatient email to Joan asking when we should expect to see our next profile. She promised me our perfect match would find her way to us in the first or second week of May and we should just wait a little bit longer.

And there it was! True to her word, on May 6th, Joan sent me an email. I just knew this was the one!

Hi Suzanne,

I'm just touching base to let you know that there are no carriers for us to show you at the moment as we are having a slew of carriers with a BMI of 34-39. Keep your hopes up. We'll find someone.

Joan

And that was that. My hopes fell to the floor with each tear that escaped my eyes. This was never going to happen for us. I called Jimmi. This time I skipped the whining and allowed the hysterics to take over, "Is it that difficult to find someone who takes care of herself the same way I do?" I screamed at him. "Why are they even accepting these people? It's not healthy for them OR the babies!" Jimmi let me bitch at him until I was able to calm down a little and come up with an idea. "Should I call Agency B?" I asked him. "Hmmm. If you think they'd be better, maybe you should," he offered. Honestly, I did. Over the last few weeks I'd started noticing something very interesting on Facebook. You see, I'd "liked" both agencies months earlier, and I'd been reading everything they'd posted. It seemed the only posts that came from Agency A were about surrogacy lawsuits or illegal surrogacy operations around the world. Conversely, the only posts that came from Agency B were photos of healthy-looking, pregnant carriers and the babies they've birthed for their Intended Parents. BABIES! Isn't that what this whole process should be about?

I hung up the phone and emailed Joan to ask if it would be against our contract with Agency A to explore other options. Her response was something along the lines of, "I understand why you'd want to do that. Just remember your deposit with us is nonrefundable." Ok then.

I Googled Agency B to see if I could find any reviews yet. Last time I'd tried I found nothing, as this was a newer agency. Same result this time. I went right to their website and began to reread the information I'd last seen a year earlier when I'd started my research. But this time, after dealing with Agency A for five months, I was a bit more experienced in the lingo. The one page I read that slipped by me a year ago, but stood out like a chunk of solid gold this time, was the one about the initial qualifications of each carrier. That one page brought hope back a little bit more with each line I read.

- BMI of 30 or lower
- Not currently receiving any form of government assistance
- Currently have personal medical insurance

These were REQUIREMENTS of each carrier who applied! On top of that, I read that every applicant was pre-screened before being accepted into the agency. For us, that meant no additional waiting for  medical reviews, blood tests, home studies or background checks. They were all done before we would even see the profiles! I was sold! I immediately sent an email to Agency B. Then, not surprisingly, I was way too impatient to wait for a reply so I picked up the phone and called them.

That call changed everything...