Spilling the beans...

I have been really back and forth about when is the right time to post this.  I have decided I am safe enough to post it now. 

I am barefoot and pregnant.  

I know you’re thinking, “Why the hell are you barefoot?”  Let me explain.  It is 140 degrees in this big, wonderful, beautiful house that we decided to buy when there was snow on the ground.  When we bought the house, we knew it didn’t come with air.  At first, being from Texas, I thought that was NUTS.  Later found out, in this area, that is very common.  The summers here just don’t get that hot, at least that was the lie the CT residents told us.  Truth be told?  It’s flippin’ hot.  My pup, who is a big girl, is a hot mess.  I went two weeks ago and got her shaved.  She is a short haired dog, but in the summer, with her dark hair, I didn’t want that extra inch to make her more miserable.  So I take her a few times during the summer to get her shaved.  This is what she does all day...

So, if the dog is this hot, imagine a pregnant woman.  Did I mention I am pregnant?

I am on my third surrogacy.  I found this amazing couple in Boston.  Actually, we found each other.  After the last surrogacy, I decided to do just one more.  Those of you that really know me, know I’ve said, “just one more time” about two surrogacies ago. I can’t help myself.  It is my reason for being.  It is why God put me here.  This is my gift.  I don’t feel that he led me to go door-to-door to witness.  I don’t feel that he led me to be a Sunday school teacher and teach children about God.  I DO feel as though he gave me a healthy body and healthy mind so that I was able to give the gift of life to deserving parents.  What qualifies them as deserving parents?  This is where it becomes EXTREMELY hard.  The first couple I met through an agency.  Both parents were doctors.  I was VERY young (20), and very naive.  Knowing they both had excellent jobs, I figured they would be good.  At least the baby would end up successful (or at least a good chance).  They transferred two embryo and both took.  I gave birth to a twin boy, and twin girl in October of 2001.  I get pictures once a year of the happy family of four.  I feel they were a wonderful choice.  My second surrogacy was a little different.  The Blond BFF came to me one day and said I have a couple for your next surrogacy.  She worked with the Dad and told me what a wonderful man he was.  She explained that the mom wasn’t able to carry because of her heart.  I agreed to meet them.  This surrogacy fell in my lap.  I wasn’t really in deep search, but if they were brought to me, who am I to say no?  I met this wonderful couple and immediately knew they would be wonderful parents.  These two parents were SO excited, that they came to EVERY appointment.  Another set of twins, this time girls.  There was no doubt at any point that these two baby girls weren’t going to be lucky.  This one was a little tougher.  It took three times.  The third time, they asked me if it would be okay if their pastor came and prayed with us before the transfer.  At this point, I was up for any extra help...or a direct line to the Big Guy.  We gathered together, shortly after deciding to transfer three embryo instead of two, held hands and prayed.  It was me, the mom and dad, the pastor, and Blond BFF (who made it all happen).  I felt different that round.  I knew that the struggles from the two previous tries, had been redirected to the Right Place.  I felt refocused and positive.  It worked.  I gave birth to these two sweet angels on June 21, 2010.  The birth couldn’t have gone better.  The mom was able to be in the room.  She stood at my feet as my mother held one leg, and Blond BFF held the other.  I pushed with all my might.  The only person I was interested in seeing?  That momma.  As the first baby girl came out, I watched her anxious mother grab her own face in utter amazement and joy.  THAT is why I do what I do.  That is a look that a person doesn’t forget.  That momma stood there and was the first person to lay eyes on and fall in love with that sweet baby.  Nothing feels better than to see wonderful people have what they have always wanted.  THAT is what I call SIMPLE.  

That surrogacy went so great, I knew my time was running out on my age, and knew if I wanted to do it again, I had to be quick.  I created an email address, and posted an ad to a surrogacy classified website.  I created a new email because I KNEW I would be bombarded with tons of emails.  And I was.  At least 50 in the first week.  This is where it gets really hard.  In these emails they tell me how long they have been trying, and why they can’t carry on their own.  Each story is heartbreaking.  How do you choose?  This is where I start praying.  I knew God would find me the right couple.  In the meantime it was my job to weed through them.  I didn’t want to do it for a couple that wasn’t from (or born in) the United States because I didn’t want language to be a barrier in any way.  I also didn’t want to do it for someone that already had two or more kids.  No need to be greedy.  So after this, I get it narrowed down to two couples.  Then I get this email from a woman that just...I don’t know...reached me.  I felt an instant connection.  This is just something you know.  I knew that this would be the next couple.  The first time it worked.  I am actually pregnant with ONE baby this time.  Imagine that!  I don’t even know what it is like to give birth to one baby, it’s been so long!  The mom and dad are so excited!!  I am just under 12 weeks along.  My due date will be January 7th...we will see.  I have yet to have a baby that wasn’t born early. 

There.  I spilled the beans.  Barefoot and pregnant. 

Memory

So I have hit the age of 32.  Let me stop right there and give you a hint as to what this blog is about.  I had to text my mom and ask her how old I was.  My memory is Just. That. Bad.  

Years ago, I really thought my memory loss was abnormal and wanted to make sure I didn’t have a brain tumor or something crazy like that.  So I went to see my doctor.  This is how that conversation went:

Me: I think something is wrong.  I have the memory of a 86 year old Alzheimer's patient. 

Smirking Doctor: Really?

Me: Yes, I can’t remember anything.  

Smirking Doctor: Give me an example.  Like your name?  Or what year it is?

Me: No, like what I had for dinner last night. 

Smirking Doctor: Is it only short term stuff, or do you forget things that happened long ago?

Me: Ummm, I think a little of both. But my concern is short term.  Like what happened last week, or yesterday.

Smirking Doctor: Okay, I am going to ask you to remember three things.  **Side note, I can’t remember what those three things were, but I am giving you an example.** I want you to remember these three words: apple, cow, Thursday.

After giving me the three words, she continued to ask me other random questions.  She asked me who the President was, and what year it was, and asked about my family and what I was doing currently (job).  After ten minutes of chatting...

Smug Doctor: Okay, what were the three words I asked you to remember??

Me: Hugh?

Worried Doctor: I asked you to remember three words about ten minutes ago.  Do you remember what they were?

Me: Haha, just kidding.  Yeah, I remember...cat, dog, caterpillar.

Frightened Doctor: Darling, think really hard.  

Me: Man, you are too easy!!  Yes, let me think...apple, cow, Tuesday.     

Blood-draining-back-to-face Doctor: Okay, two out of three is passing.  So, I think you are okay.

Me: So no brain tumor?

Back-to-smirking Doctor: No, I think you are good.  Memory loss is just something that comes with age and the busyness of life.

Me: Can you write a note for my husband and say that it isn’t curable?  He keeps asking for dinner on the table and I keep forgetting, and I just want him to know that I really am forgetting and that it will never go away.

Laughing Doctor: Seriously?

Me: Seriously what, that I need the note or that I forget to put dinner on the table?  Wait, what are we talking about?  Just kidding, no, I guess I don’t need the note.

So I went home and told the Chief that there was nothing wrong with me.  He wasn’t convinced.  In the meantime, it has only gotten worse.  

Here is a text between me and Brunette BFF.

So here is the story.  I hop in the car to get a few errands run, simple right?  Let me remind you, very few things are simple for me.  So I hop in my handy jeep and set my navigation up to get me to Walmart.  Laugh all you want, I still don’t know my way around here.  So I am just about there before I realize I have left with my slippers on my feet.  These aren’t just any slippers.  These slippers can’t be passed off as kinda-shoes.  No, they are monkey slippers.  I’m wearing freaking monkey slippers.  There is no, “Hope no one will notice”.  Whatever.  At least I don’t know anyone here.  So I head into the Walmart, where I assume I will probably fit right in.  I think a total of three people commented on my slippers.  The sad part, and the reason for this blog, is after I am there for a good 20 minutes, I have forgotten that I am wearing slippers.  I am looking for my toothpaste in an isle, when a little girl from across the flippin‘ store, screeched, “Mommy!!  Lookie at her feet!!”  I look up to see where she is pointing, then quickly look behind me so that I can see the lady’s weird feet.  Then I realize I am the culprit.  OMG, I am going to end up in one of those stupid emails about the idiots that shop at Walmart.  I quickly snatch up my toothpaste and get away from the gleeful child, that might I add, isn’t even wearing stupid shoes.  I pay, and head out to the car.  As I am pushing my cart over to my vehicle, which takes me four minutes to find because of course I have forgotten where I parked it, I realize my parking lights are on in the back.  As I get closer I realize...I.  Left.  The.  Car.  Running.  Chief, I know gasoline doesn’t grow on trees.  What can I say, I am a lost cause.  Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I have made this mistake.  Here is the deal, the new cars don’t require keys to start them, well they require them to be with you...for me they are in the bottom of my purse.  So when I get in, I push a little button that gets me going, then when I am done, I push that same little button to stop the car.  Simple right?  Haha...are you getting the drift now?  At this point I threw up my hands, and unloaded my stuff and got in.  I immediately grabbed my phone which led to the Brunette BFF text.  Sometimes you just need to tell someone how you are losing your mind.  It makes everything feel a little more real.  Don’t worry, she sends me very similar texts.  We have the same problem.  We always joke about when we are old, and our husbands are gone, we are going to open up a Bed-N-Breakfast in Florida.  Then we always joke about how we will serve breakfast throughout the day because we will both have forgotten that we already served it.  

This is just one incidence.  I have put milk in the pantry, and cereal in the fridge.  I have put the Chief’s underwear in my drawer and his in mine.  Sadly, he caught the mistake before he put them on.  That would have been one AWESOME blog post.  I have eaten meal after meal because I have forgotten that I already ate, and on the other end, I have skipped meals because I have forgotten to eat.  These are very minor, but I am giving them to you because I have forgotten all the other big ones.  Hell, by them time I am done with this blog I will have forgotten I posted it.  So if you see another posting about my memory, you will know why.

This is my life.  I am forgetful.  I’m sorry Chief.  Sometimes I forget you have told me something and chances are you will have to repeat yourself.  You already know this though.  Oh, and by the way...I don’t really forget to put dinner on the table, I just simply don’t want to cook.  Love you, Babe.  

  

Spring Break Part Two

So the rest of our spring break was spent just as productively as the first day.  Another thing I have wanted to do is build a fire pit.  We have this huge back yard, and tons of fire wood, but no fire pit.  So I decided that Little Man and I were going to build one.  The Chief, a little hesitant, decided not to fight it, and just let me have my way, again.  

So you think it is easy building a fire pit?  Maybe in Texas where under the grass lays dirt.  But in Connecticut?  Under the grass is rock...with maybe a tablespoon of dirt.  So this ended up being quite the task.  A four hour chore, turned into a three day chore.  I started off with a shovel.  I knew that we needed to dig a hole to start with (yes, yes, I did my research).  So digging a hole is one of the hardest things I have ever done.  If you don’t remember my “rock” blog, go back and read about how rocky this state is.  There were rocks the size of my head under the soil.  NUTS.  Made digging a hole REALLY freaking hard.  

While digging this hole, I was sending texts to a new friend that I made.  She had already made a fire pit and had experience.  She was telling me how wide, how deep and step by step what I needed to do.  So I send her this picture.  

This is how our conversation goes:

Me: Is this hole wide enough?  The rocks are freaking killing me!

Her: LOL. Is that silver shovel a snow shovel?

Me: OMG! It IS a snow shovel!  I was trying to use it until Little Man informed me I had the wrong shovel.

Her: LMAO! Oh my god, U are such a girl! Only thing they use that shovel for in Texas, is shoveling shit! LMAO!

Me: Very funny.

Her: LOL.  You need a pik ax.  The first problem is the shovels.  Can’t dig a hole with a shit shovel and a midget shovel.  Were you going to hire little people?  Why didn’t u buy a big shovel????  LOL.  

Me: LOL.  We r rookies, thats why!!

Okay.  So maybe I didn’t do THAT much research.  How was I supposed to know that there was a certain shovel to dig holes with?  A shovel is a shovel...or so I thought.  

So, three days and an almost broken finger later, we were done.  And it looks AWESOME.