Yesterday, while working on my back, the tech at the alternative health facility told me she's a surrogate mother. She's pregnant with her second surrogate baby, her fourth pregnancy. She has two children of her own. The casual conversation resonated in my ears like an echo. She made more than her own people, her womb is THAT inviting. While she continued on my shoulder, I told her how I've tried to get pregnant for several years.
My best shot was when I was with my wife. We did all the planning and research, I did all the fertility treatments. It was rigorous. My mom had to drive half an hour to bring a shot in a cooler bag to the restaurant where I was meeting my cousins for dinner. It was scheduled during the exact window of time I had to take my third and final hormone shot to be ready for ovulation two days later. Both of my parents came and they were dressed for dinner too. I love seeing them out. My dad ordered a drink with my cousins while my mom shot me in the ass with hormones from the restaurant bathroom; a recording of French language lessons played out over the speakers. It was a real moment to remember while making a baby. But on the very day of insemination, our known donor stood us up. Once we got him on the phone he said we’ll do it next week or so. “But I’m ovulating now!” I responded. “Listen lady, you sound you’re one of those uptight women. Making a baby isn’t rocket science. I’ve done it before.” He was clearly not a suitable match after all. I'll never forget the feeling of the cramps in my ovaries while they pumped inside me ready to ovulate the most fertile ovule I've probably ever had. I felt every thump while that window of opportunity closed on me. We divorced a year later.
Today, I put down my things and high-fived the 9-year-old as I walked in to nanny for one of my patrón families. After an elbow bump, he was out the door to walk to school. The mom, a nurse, is holding a smiley happy baby and he's making eyes at me. I melt. Then the 3 year old pops her head around the corner and knows my presence means mom's leaving soon and she looses it. She's staying home because the daycare said she had a temp yesterday, but she feels totally fine today with no symptoms other than a sour morning attitude. She's wrapped around her mother's leg with both arms and feet. She's pulling down mom's scrubs while mom continues to move around the kitchen making her own lunch. Then the baby looses it. Mom rolls her eyes and with a big exhale, "Monkey see monkey do, huh?" I ask how I can help. She just keeps yelling over them telling me about what Amelia can have for breakfast and lunch and where the pull-ups are. I stood there and watched her successfully finish making her lunch with both of them still hanging off her. It was like I was outside looking in. How is she even doing it?!?! "I'm so glad I don't have kids", I thought. I pried Amelia off her mom's leg and held her while she cried in my ear and reached for her mom. Mom came over and kissed her on the head then scooted quickly out the door with the, still crying, babe. This was going to be a day.
As soon as I turned on Blippi, she forgot all about mom. After four Blippi movies, followed The Reading Rainbow (my choice!) and 4 of the same books over and over again. One of them was called Where's My Monster? I think some of big bro's books got mixed in with hers but I know she has a thing for monsters. She loves to be scared at halloween. She asked me to read it four times. When I finished reading it that last time, she thought she heard something under the recliner. We both gasped! One of the coils sprang, "Do you thinks it's a monster?" I said. She wasn't playing anymore, she climbed her way up my body and was as high as she could be over my shoulders, then she started to cry. "It's just a game, boo boo. There's no monster in here.", I said. Just then the giant boxer-pit started barking. Amelia shrieked and said she was cold. She was sweating. She asked for the blanket. We were sitting on it. She asked again. I pulled up the sides and wrapped us up like a taquito. She had slid down a bit by then and instantly stopped crying. With her head on my chest and her legs wrapped around me, she fell asleep. We both woke up about 40 min later in a puddle of her drool. I knew she was awake because her little hand was out of the blanket gently messing with the hem of my tank top. I prefer tank tops and spaghetti straps when I work with this family. It's a lot easier to clean smells and slobber off of skin than it is fabric. With two in diapers, you gotta get resourceful. I told her it was time to get up. She shook her head no so I kept rocking. She was just so sweet and quiet and barely awake. She was feeling safe wrapped in a blanket in my arms and clearly had not forgotten about the monsters. I was grateful for a moment of being safety and nurture for a child. I've held her baby brother that way and several other children I've cared for over the years. She's not my child but she is my village and in that moment, we were both home.
"Thank you for having children for me," I said to mom as she walked in the door with the baby snotty and crying on her hip. She laughed and said, "You're welcome." The baby stopped crying and blew me a kiss when he saw me grab my things to go. I melted.
Life is funny.
Re-productive
This illustration was made in several phases. First a doodle while channeling an emotion related to fertility. Weeks later, a sketch as a study of the shape of the ovaries. I wanted to be able to visualize healthy, functional and fertile ovaries. Third, while grieving the overturn of Roe v. Wade, my inner child popped up outta nowhere, demanding to be represented and recognized. So I spent some time in that space playing with brushes and tools in my drawing app and completed the illustration.
Made in Procreate on an iPad Pro.
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