I noticed, after about 45 minutes of driving, that I had been nervously bouncing my foot the whole way.
I was on my way to tell my parents about my family's decision to be a surrogate. I played out the worst-case scenarios. Even the worst-case scenarios weren't that bad, but they did account for a bit more yelling.
I am happy to report, no yelling.
My mother took it harder than I hoped, but honestly, it was expected. I think it is just hard for her to wrap her head around right now. She is a very loving person and I think she worries about the emotional aspect of this adventure. Rightly so; it would be nutty to treat this like a business venture, with no emotional ties. She's warming up to it. I love her.
|Let it be known: My father|
looks nothing like this.
My father was pretty predictable, as well. After my mom pulled out the chair at the dinner table and announce, "Here, spill it." and then walked away, my father naturally looked over his glasses at me with this, "What did you do..." kind of look (see picture at right). I kind of blurted out, "I'm just going to keep it simple: I've decided I'm going to be a surrogate." His head turns slightly, as if to process. Then drilled me on a few topics, including my motives, my husband's thoughts and then told me that I was an adult that didn't need his permission. "You're young, you had a healthy pregnancy and fairly easy childbirth. You'll make somebody very happy." What a great guy, right? Little did he know, the ace in my pocket if he opposed was, "Dad, you've had surrogate livestock." Luckily, I didn't have to use it. It would have been a moot point, comparing livestock to his child.
Next stop: interview with the social worker.