a piece of peace

Blurry—that’s about the only word I have for the last several months. Good blurry, for sure.

In the last month’s time, all of us got and recovered nearly fully from COVID-19 (some light smell and taste issues linger) and, as if we needed more to do, we had surrobabe number two. And I started a new job. And Thanksgiving happened. See? Blurry.

On Sunday, my better half sneezed. Or she had a baby. She’s a superhuman human-haver, though; seriously. Five minutes (two pushes) brought the squishiest little squishface crashing into late Minnesota November and let me tell you: her lungs work. She is the very definition of precious. All those cute little fingers and toes! And very full head of thick hair! So cute. She’s already a trouble maker, too. For months, she has kept strict hours of sleeping during the middle of the day and a stricter schedule of rigorous kickboxing all night long with a weekly hiccup session sprinkled in there. I hear she hasn’t let up on that routine postpartum. 😂

This is our last surrogacy. Three journeys, four transfers, and two beautiful babies later and I’m so pleased with and proud of the work we’ve done to build two families and attempt to help a third. We’ve been at this since 2017, so we’re somewhere in our fourth-plus year of trying to have babies to build other people’s families. I am okay with being done. While it was an incredible heart and life changing adventure, I do not recommend it to everyone. It is not for the faint of heart.

As we sat in our quiet townhouse the last couple of nights, I’ve reflected on the stillness: of birthing and leaving the hospital without a baby to get up with all night long. For us, that’s just fine; uninterrupted postpartum sleep is nice. That said, however, it isn’t lost on me that our good sleep is the minority experience of leaving a hospital postpartum without a baby. Stillbirths are not lost on me. Premature birth and death is not lost on me. Miscarriages are not lost on me. Having a pregnancy go perfectly and then turn into the ultimate trauma is not lost on me. I cherish this particular brand of postpartum baby-less sleep. For the rest of you that are tormented by silent nights: I see you and I hear you. You do not suffer in a void. It has been our deepest privilege and honor to walk with you, to face down infertility, to defeat it twice. And while this part of our fight is done, we are not finished yet. If everything goes to plan, we hope to contribute a labor and delivery nurse to the fray (guys—my wife is so freakin’ cool 😍). But for now, our hearts are so full and we are overwhelmed by joy unspeakable.

Thank you, all, for journeying with us. It has been a pleasure, truly.

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