Pink or Blue...But What Ever Happened to Red?

So tomorrow's the "big" day, the day we have the ultrasound that will tell us if our child is a boy or a girl. Of course, along the way we've learned that what is supposed to happen on a particular day isn't always what happens. So, if the ultrasound doesn't show the gender, I guess we'll just wait for another little bit.

All along this journey people have been asking us when we'll find out if it's a boy or a girl, or if we want a boy or a girl, or if we have boy names and girl names picked out. When we went to Babies R Us I was honestly shocked at how "genderized" everything is. Out of all the crib bedding and whatnot there was only 1 that I would consider gender neutral. All of the others seemed to scream BOY or GIRL. Boy or girl, boy or girl, that's the big question. That's how one chooses how to decorate a nursery. That's how one chooses which clothing to pick. That even determines how people react to the baby. Let's say you dress a baby in as "gender neutral" clothing as you can, maybe jeans and a red t-shirt. If you tell people the baby is a girl, automatically you hear comments of, "Oh isn't she precious looking?" and "How beautiful!" Take the same child and tell people it's a boy and the comments become "Look at how strong he is!" and "Isn't he a flirt!" From the very beginning the child gets treated a certain way based on their gender.

There was an interesting article lately about a couple in Canada who has a child named "Storm." They have decided that, for the time being, they aren't going to tell anyone the child's gender. Storm will just be Storm. And people can react how they see fit. And this is causing an uproar. People like to know gender. It very quickly gears a person's thinking towards gifts for a child, or clothes for a child, or even for the phrases one uses with a child. A child without a known gender is uncomfortable. I'm not saying that I agree with rasing a child without sharing his or her gender, but it certainly is an interesting experiment.

I remember when a relative had a child born with undifferentiated genitalia. Even the doctors at the hospital had a hard time wrapping their heads around that one. Pink cap or blue cap? Baby Boy ____ or Baby Girl ____ for the name plate? Until the DNA results came back there was quite a bit of befuddlement, even from the medical professionals.

I wonder about how our children pick up ideas on gender roles and how different genders are supposed to behave. Several of our favorite family stories revolve around use of the iron in our household as we were growing up. You see, dad did all the ironing. I'm pretty sure my mom knows how to iron, but it was always dad who did it. It was mostly his work shirts that needed ironing and he liked it a certain way, so he ironed. As a teenager, if I needed something ironed I went to my father, not to my mother. So anyhow, the first story begins with me watching my father very closely, when I was around 4 years old. I mean, I was staring at him intently as he ironed one day. And dad, with his infinite patience, just waited until I was ready to ask my question. I took a deep breath and asked with all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster, "Daddy, can girls iron?" And my father, in his infinite wisdom replied, "Why yes, girls can iron. They can do they laundry and do the dishes. They can be doctors or nurses, lawyers or astronauts. Girls can do anything they want to." Several years down the road, I was about 6 and my sister was 3. We were playing in the family room, and, for some reason, mom was doing some ironing. The way she tells it, we were playing, and then all of a sudden we were very quiet. She looked up, and we were both looking at her wide-eyed. At that point I asked, "Mommy, does Daddy know you're using HIS iron?" It wasn't just ironing, when it came to childrearing and housekeeping both of my parents pitched in. Some of my favorite meals didn't taste right unless my father cooked them.

Then I contrast this with a statement another little relative made when she was about 3 years old. "I ONLY want to wear dresses. Pants are ugly! Dresses are pretty!" The thing is, both of her parents tried to raise her as "gender neutral" as possible. They dressed her in all sorts of clothing and colors. They both pitched in around the house. Her mom, while beautiful, hardly ever wore dresses or skirts. Mostly she wore jeans. So where did this little one get the idea that dresses were what was pretty and should be worn? They didn't even have cable in their house, so it wasn't like she watched a lot of tv. But somewhere she got that message and took it into her little heart. That was in about 2006. And, as much as I hate to say it, things have changed since I was a little girl, and I'm not sure that they are for the better.

Lately it seems like the "princess" concept has taken off everywhere. It used to be one just saw little girls dressed as princesses at Disney theme parks, and now they are all over the place. OK, here's my disclaimer. If you know me, you know I LOVE Disney! I worked there in entertainment for goodness sakes', embodying all of the things I'm about to have an issue with. So yes, there is a bit of me that is a hypocrite, but honestly I think there's just more of me that's plain old confused. Until 2000 Disney had never marketed the "Princesses" outside of their story lines. Whenever a Princess was seen on a shirt it was in the context of her story, eg: Snow White was always with the 7 dwarves, Sleeping Beauty was always with the 3 fairies, etc. Then, in 2000, after realizing how many little girls came to the parks dressed in homemade Princess costumes, Disney began the "Princess" brand and line. The big 5 princesses (Belle, Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora and Ariel) suddenly began appearing on t-shirts and sweatshirts all over the place. Specific princess costumes for girls were developed and sold in the parks and in Disney Stores. And little girls and their families ate it up. (I'm in the process of reading a very thought provoking book: Cinderella Ate My Daughter. definitely worth the read). Suddenly little girls were princessed up all over the place. And the concept has exploded. Yes, there's Captain Hook and Peter Pan, Buzz Lightyear and Woody, but not nearly to the extent of the princesses.

So here's my thing, and here's where I struggle. The princesses aren't exactly the best role models that I want for my daughter. Most of them (Cinderella, Belle, Ariel) have absentee mothers. Those that do have mothers have Wicked Stepmothers. A good number of them disobey their parent (Mulan, Ariel). And, as I see it, most damaging, most of them get into trouble or find themselves in trouble and instead of solving the situation themselves they require rescuing from a man. Cinderella needs the prince to rescue her, which he only does after she was all gussied up for a ball. Belle, who is a reader which I appreciate, needs Beast to fall in love with her to give her her freedom. Ariel, maybe the worst offender, gives up her VOICE of all things, to get a man to like her. Snow white needs a prince's kiss to save her. And on and on. It's also notable that the big 5 princesses are all white. So much for Pocahontas, Jasmine, Mulan and Tiana. Rarely are they included on any princess merchandise with the others. It's hard to find merchandise featuring them alone. But I LOVE DISNEY! So how the heck do I reconcile this? I guess it's watching movies with your children, male or female, and then talking about what you see and notice; the good and bad choices the characters make along the way.

I also think the "princess" theme tends to limit creative play instead of encourage it. When we were younger we played house and school and going to the zoo, and horses and some game one of my best friends and I invented with a flying machine in her back yard (which was actually a really cool tree) all sorts of other pretend scenarios. The thing about playing "princess" is that rather than using their imaginations, children act out the scripts they know. There is a formula to princess play that isn't as open ended as school or house. Dress up and pretend play iis great for kids, wonderful for their imaginations and necessary for psychosocial development. But when the script is already written, how much of it is pretend play and how much of it is regurgitation?

I'm sure if I thought it through I could come up with similar cultural influences on boys: video games, sports, etc. But I'm most familiar with girls because, well, I am one. And, to me, it seems like maybe we've lost some of the gains we had before. Try and find tops for girls that aren't pink and glittery. Try to find baby gear that doesn't scream BOY or GIRL. Try to find any nursery theme that isn't almost all pink with hearts and butterflies or blue with sports balls or trains. I wish I could find more in the middle ground. But it's very, very difficult.

So tomorrow we find out the gender of our child. And the thing that I hope Aaron and I always remember to keep at the forefront as we parent is that boy or girl, what is most important is that we help our child discover his or her unique God-given qualities, some of which may be gender related, but, I suspect, much of which has nothing to do with his or her gender, and nuture those qualities for what they are. That we think outside of the box the marketing executives and clothing designers attempt to build around the genders, and help our child to find who he or she is, the way he or she was created by God, and to believe in that and trust that.

Our Journey to the Mothership

About a month ago I was talking to someone and telling her that in a lot of ways I feel like this blessed journey towards motherhood feels more like completing a checklist than preparing to welcome a new member of our family and embracing all the change that comes with it-

1) Find Agency- Check!
2) Find Surrogate- Check!
3) Go through fertility treatments- Check!
4) Achieve Pregnancy- Check!
5) Go to appointments- Check!

Of course, perhaps if I sat down to really consider how much this was going to change our lives forever I might be completely paralyzed! All right, not really, but people keep squealing and asking me "Aren't you soooooooo excited?!?!?!?!?" Well, yes, we're excited, but again, sometimes it feels more like a dot to dot puzzle, and when we finally connect all the dots, viola! Baby! In the meantime, we sort of bide our time between the dots, or wipe our brow with a "Whew! Check that one off the list!" I had wondered if that was part of it being a surrogacy or part of my personality or what, however, several friends who have been pregnant tell me that they can identify with that feeling, even though they were carrying their own child. It wasn't until the baby was placed in their arms that it all became real. I do think part of it, for me anyway, has to do with conceiving a child with medical treatments. They give you a calendar, you inject yourself with your specific drug cocktail every day, you visit the doctor every other day, or daily and on and on. It's not the miracle of making love with your spouse over a period of time and then one day peeing on a stick and seeing the plus sign. It is calculated and prescribed. So I was musing this over with someone and that person asked me, "What would make it feel real to you? What would make you feel your heart beat a little faster, and your anticipation grow? What would help you find the joy?" I thought for a moment, and then said, "Well, I guess decorating the baby's room." After all, if there's a place to put the baby, then it stands to reason that it would seem more real, right? And I like decorating and creativity.


Thus, a couple weekends ago Aaron and I journeyed to the mothership, the mecca of babyhood, the icon of infant idolatry...BABIES R US (you have to say that in your mind with a big, booming, echoy voice to get the effect that Aaron and I felt when we walked in the door). "Holy _____ (insert word of your choosing depending on how colorful your vocabulary is and it will suffice)", we thought. The size of half a target, all dedicated to apparently "necessary" items that people under age 3 or 4 need. We stumbled over to the Baby Registry counter, mouthes gaping open and pupils dialated, gave our information, and, although we insisted we were just going to look, were given what Aaron kept referring to as "the phaser" with the admonishment (in a perky, but maternal way), "You may say you're just going to look, but you should start marking whatever you think you might possibly be interested in, because you can always change it and add to it online or when you come into the store." Um. Okay. And then we were handed THE LIST.

THE LIST was a list of more than 200 item "MUST HAVES" for your registry checklist. Now, I was pretty little when my sister was born, but as far as I can remember we had diapers, bottles, an umbrella stroller, a crib, some clothes, a playpen, and pacifiers that we both refused to suck on. And that was about it...and we turned out ok. And then there was my mother. When she was born the Japanese had just been "evacuated" from the West Coast during World War II and "relocated" to internment camps. I think if she was lucky, she had diapers. No crib or stroller or anything like that...and she turned out ok. And I'm looking at THE LIST of 200+ items thinking, "Why the heck to babies need to have 200+ items these days???" I mean, they haven't changed much. Developmental progression is still the same as it has been for thousands of years. But Aaron and I were on a mission, to "find the joy" and "make it real" so we gamely waded in.

Ok, we more than waded in. We jumped in with both feet. We looked at cribs, strollers, carseats, high chairs, bottles and only God remembers what else. I've got enough material from this one journey practically for its own blog, or at least several entries, but to keep this entry manageable I'll limit it to the stroller section. Remember me, umbrella stroller kid? Well things have changed! There are Travel Systems, lightweight strollers, jogging strollers, full-sized strollers, activity strollers, double and triple strollers, stroller accessories, stroller gear, and on and on and on. And remember me, umbrella stroller kid? As we glanced down the aisle our eyes got bigger and bigger. But we are not ones to let a small sojourn to Babies R Us get the best of us, nay nay! So we jumped in with relish to test them out and decide what would work for our munchkin. And 30 minutes later we were just as baffled as when we started. Just when you think you've got one figured out, you move on to the next and it folds differently and its wheels lock differently and, if it's a "travel system" the carseat fits in differently. After spending an hour in the strollers aisle we were beat. We briefly explored other aisles of the store, but finally hit the wall staring down the bottle aisle. 10+ different brands, each with multiple sizes, nipples, shapes cleaning systems and other accoutrement did us in.

Overall our first foray lasted around 2 hours. And yes, we did experience "joy" and the "reality" definitely hit us. I've now enlisted 2 experienced moms to go back with me to help me figure out exactly what we really do need (which I coming to believe is very little of the list of necessary items) and the ins and outs of strollers. Nonetheless, the consumerism of "baby" everything everything was a bit mind blowing. Thus, about a week later, when I was ready to journey out again, I did so on my own terms and at my own pace. I went to a great consignment store near my house, and found a fabulous, like-new changing table for about 25% of retail cost. Now THAT (taking care of my child, taking care of our resources, and taking care of the planet by reusing things), to me, is finding my joy!

Chugga Chugga, Choo Choo!

Those who admire modern civilization usually identify it with the steam engine and the electric telegraph.
— George Bernard Shaw

I don't know anything about the electric telegraph, but I know with certainty that one of the delights we've come across on this journey, that we may very well have missed, is the joy of traveling by train. The train between King Street station in Seattle, and the train station in Portland takes about 3 1/2 hours. The journey would be the same by car, but it is in no way as enjoyable.

On a train, you can get up and move around whenever you want. There's no "please remain in your seat until the seatbelt sign goes off," or "place your tray tables in the upright position." There's no tapping the brakes in rush-hour traffic, arguing about which lane is traveling the fastest, or taking time out to stop for bathroom breaks. Amazingly enough, the bathroom travels right along with you, and even when you're using it, you continue making forward progress! You're allotted more than 18 square inches of seat and leg room, and there's even enough space to stretch your legs out and recline a bit. There's plug-ins to keep your electronic distractions charged up, and even Wi-Fi on some routes.

Perhaps the best part about train travel, are the people. We've met a lacrosse team traveling from California back to Canada, a young college grad from Denmark who traveled from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles and finally to Seattle, all by train, and all sorts of other people. People are just friendlier on trains. If you happen to take the route with the dining car, on your journey you'll be seated with two other people, whom you don't know, for dinner or lunch. Although Aaron finds this a bit tiresome, I love it. How often do we break bread with strangers anymore? Although you may only be sharing space with them for less than an hour, there's plenty of time to talk and start seeing the world through their point of view. It's always an adventure, and you never know what you're going to get!

The coast of Washington is beautiful to see by train. Much more beautiful than looking at every McDonald's and Chevron sign up and down the freeway. Just for the adventure, I highly recommend everybody try it one time, at least. You'll see the world from a whole different perspective. Whenever I start to feel like this journey is getting tedious, and I'm weary of traveling the road between Seattle and Portland, and back again, I try to remind myself that it could be so much worse…We could have to drive all the time!

We just rode the train down on Sunday and back on Monday for our 12 week appointment. It was our first time at the midwifery clinic. The midwives are all nurse-midwives, and practice at Oregon Health Science University Hospital. The baby will be delivered in the hospital in the same room that would be used if we were using an OB, however by a midwife. The first visit seemed very relaxed and personal. For the first time we got to hear the baby's heartbeat! What a great sound. "Lisa" was very excited that this ultrasound was the first that could be conducted through her belly instead of with the ubiquitous and highly personal "vag cam". Lisa and I are both happy to be done with that! Our baby is looking great. S/he is measuring five days older than s/he actually is. What a surprise, a child of Aaron and I, is already an overachiever. S/he was quite active, waving arms and legs, however also compliant and positioning his/herself just perfectly to take measurements for some sort of genetic testing and a first look for Down syndrome. So far everything looks great.

And, for those of you who are curious, the "fruit" comparison for this week is that of a peach. Frankly, given all the genetic manipulations and growth hormones, I've seen plenty of "limes" (last week's fruit of choice) that are the same size as peaches, but our glorious app tells us that this is a distinct growth.

"Invertebrates" and "crabmeat"

Hello! As I sit down to dictate this (And yes, I do mean dictate into a talk-to-type translator, so please forgive any typos!) I realize how long it's been since I've written. Right after our last doctor's appointment, it was finals week for the classes that I teach. And let me tell you, now that I've been on both the student and professor side, I think finals take twice as much work for the professor. Right after that we went out of town for about a week, and then I had surgery on my left wrist. For good week after that I was blitzed out on painkillers, and God knows what I would've typed if given the opportunity! Now the pain (and painkillers) is at a tolerable level, and I'm able to dictate a blog entry into my fancy-schmancy talk-to-type program. So hooray for my return to the blogosphere! One thing I can say, is that by taking a hiatus, I've gotten a sense of who's actually reading my blog! Several of my mother's friends asked her if everything was going okay since I hadn't updated my blog in a while, and I got a couple e-mails, phone calls, and text messages checking in. It's great to know how many people really care about, and are joining us, on our journey!

My wrist is doing all right, although even with all my occupational therapy knowledge, I'm getting very tired of trying do things with just one hand. The surgery was for an injury that occurred last October while I was at work. I tried conservative treatment for several months, and then it took awhile for L&I to approve the surgery. After going in, the doctor was glad that we'd done surgery, and thought it would really help. The main part of the surgery was done on a tricky set of ligaments called the TFCC. He explained to me that if this series of ligaments were healthy it would look similar to "squid" and that my set of ligaments looked similar to "crabmeat". He cleaned out all of the delicacies, and then also did some work on the joint where the radius and the ulna connect. I'll be in the soft brace for about six weeks, and then I'll be able to start slowly using it again. My goal, of course, is to have it in tip top shape by baby's arrival.

Right now everything is going very well in the pregnancy. The last ultrasound showed that we have one healthy baby, and the other had stopped developing. While we're sad that the other baby quit developing, we're very excited that the others doing well. There was a fantastic moment when it looked as if the tiny "Flipper-Hand" on our 22 mm baby waved at us Aaron was talking about it. "Lisa" is experiencing more morning sickness and nausea than she ever did with her other two children, but other than that, she's doing well. We have our next ultrasound appointment on the 23rd, which will put us at right about 12 weeks. I feel like I'm in some weird time phenomena where time is both speeding by and plodding at the same time.

Of course these days there's an App for everything, so Aaron has downloaded "baby bump" which shows us week by week how are baby is developing. This app also continues to be a source of humor for Aaron and I. One of the things I most appreciate about Aaron is his "scientific" sense of humor. I was doing some cleaning up one day, right after he download the app, and he called out to me from the other room "when is our baby due again?" I told him and to see him furiously adjusting the program. "Ah!" He said, "now it's beginning to look more like an invertebrate!" Apparently at the two weeks he was looking at, in one week the embryo was still round shaped, and by the next week it it assumed more of a "tadpole" like appearance. I'm happy to report that it does appear that we are expecting a mammal. ;) This week, week 11, stated "On your baby's head, the ears are moving to the side of the head." Of course this left both of us wondering where the ears had started! We both continue to be amazed at how quickly the baby grows. Right now it's telling us that it's 1.6 inches, roughly the size of a "lime", weighs .25 ounces, and will double in size by next week! Ah the wonders of following a pregnancy with all the technology available to us! Thank you Steve Jobs.

PS: one of the things I'm trying to use this as is as a record of our journey. I know many of you get to this site by going through Facebook. If you don't mind, it would be great if you could leave any "comments" on the actual blog, instead of my Facebook. They'll have a complete record, all together, of both my thoughts and people's responses. Thank you! (Of course if you really want to, you can comment in both places!)

Hmmmmm. I'm discovering that if you comment here, then sometimes I don't know who you are!!! OK, feel free to comment wherever. I just like to know people are reading. :)

A Message From Aaron (The Husband)

Hello, blogiverse; this is Aaron the husband writing for Tiffany. She can't type at the moment because she just had wrist surgery. But in her post-anesthesia stupor, she asked me to update the blog, as she has been getting many emails and texts.

Now as for the baby news, we are going to have... just one baby! The one that was barely surviving no longer has a heartbeat and is being slowly absorbed back into Lisa's body. I have to admit this is a little sad. But we are ecstatic about the healthy and growing baby that is thriving in our surrogate's welcoming womb. Tiffany and I are certainly relieved that we will not have the complications and dangers of a twin pregnancy (not to mention the extreme challenge of double-barreled baby-care). Mostly, we are thankful that we have a strong, growing baby in there!

Tiffany will put up a post of her own soon, either when her wrist heals or by speech-to-text. We thank all of you for your concern and support!

One or Two?...well...yes it is

Add this one to the ever expanding list of This Is A Little Bit Different Than We Expected. Everyone (meaning the medical professionals who knows these things) told us that at this ultrasound we would know if we were having one or two babies. Well, it didn't exactly happen that way. So much for "One if by land, two if by sea"....I guess we're currently in one of those vehicles that can travel on water or over land.

When the doctor doing the ultrasound started out with "Here's the first embryonic sac," I braced myself. I mean, when someone starts out a sentence with "Here's the first...." you automatically think that there's another. So the thought that runs through my mind is (as my breath catches in my throat) "OK, two, we can do this." The first embryo was a beautiful 7mm long, floating in a lovely sea of amniotic fluid. There was a strong heartbeat that we could see, a little blip-blip-blip on the computer screen.

Then he went to the second embryo. He pointed out that it was considerably smaller, that it hadn't consumed it's "yolk sac" and that he didn't see a heart beat. He said that the remains of that embryo would simply be absorbed into the body. So I took another deep breath, "OK, one baby, beautiful, great, healthy!"

He went back to the first embryo and took a picture (already added to the growing stack). Then he went back to the second embryo, paused and said, "Oh wait! I think I see a faint heartbeat!" So here's my inner monologue, "Holy cow! OK, so is it one? Is it two? What the heck do we tell people? What the heck do we plan for? This is so so so weird. Seriously, completely, utterly, totally weird."

So the main story is, we have one fetus that looks very healthy. The heart is beating strongly, the size is good, and everything looks good. The other fetus is about two thirds the size of the first one with a faint heartbeat. At this point it could survive, or it may not. The medical professionals seem to be thinking that it won't survive, and that at the next ultrasound, in two weeks, we'll find that we have one healthy baby. But no one will make an absolute call on that. "It's too hard to predict," one says. "There's a slight chance it may survive," says another. And my brain says, "OK. Another two weeks wait to see what happens. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. Repeat again. Repeat until you can wrap your head around this one."

It was an odd appointment to walk away from. We had gone down there thinking that we would have an answer, and, as so many medical things go, it's not quite black and white. So much for definitive ordinal numbers. So once again...we wait. For another 2 weeks to see what God has in store for our family. If nothing else, I'm learning how to wait and rest in Him, knowing that He has it all under control. Thank goodness!

Nonetheless, it was thrilling to see at least one healthy, happy baby, and to see our good friends, "Lisa" and "Leon." Speaking of "Leon" (the surrogate's husband) he had a very interesting exchange with a friend on the phone the other day. He was talking to a friend on the phone and mentioned that his wife was pregnant. The friend launched into a "Hey! Congratulations on number 3...." at which point Leon interrupted him and said, "No, no. It's not mine!" There was a pause on the other end of the line. It's an interesting journey for all of us.

Interesting Feelings

It's interesting. One thing I had not anticipated was this acute sadness I am feeling. After spending time with a friend who is 3 months pregnant I came away with a longing to experience what she is experiencing, and an envy/jealousy towards our surrogate who gets to actually carry this pregnancy. The feeling grew even more this weekend when I spent time with a woman who is 7 months pregnant. We've been so focused on getting to this point of being pregnant and the ultimate goal of a child that I really hadn't anticipated this, and I don't quite know what to do with it.

I kind of feel like an involved and engaged bystander, but a bystander nonetheless. Everyone fawns over expectant mothers, asking them how they are feeling, telling them they're glowing and giving sage advice, wisdom and folk remedies on stretch marks. It's our pregnancy, sort of, in that it's our child, but I don't get all that part of being pregnant. And yes, I know I won't get sagging breasts, or morning sickness, or stretch marks which may all be a good thing, but I also don't get the joy of the sideways pictures taken of me every few weeks, or feeling the flutter of little feet and hands inside my womb or the knowing smiles from everyone I see, strangers and friends alike, that says, "I know what's up with you. What an amazing experience!"

In my philosophical moments I've been thinking about archetypal persona of what it means to be female, to be a mother. It's not exactly something Hallmark makes a greeting card for. It's not the 50s, there are so many acceptable roles for women other than homemaker, wife and mother. Nonetheless, when one talks about a 'Mother-To-Be' there is the image someone glowing with the anticipation of the life inside of them, the life that they get to support and nourish before the child is even born. What happens if you don't fit that image?

Maybe if the distance were shorter between our surrogate and us I would feel a bit more like I was experiencing the pregnancy along with her. It's nothing she's done or said, indeed she and her husband keep talking about this being "our" (Aaron's and my) pregnancy. And we've bought some children's books to create audio CDs of our voices reading to play to the as it grows child (and her children). And I bought her a "pregnancy" journal that I hope she'll keep so that I can later share that with our child. I feel like I'm doing everything I can to feel involved. But it's just not the same. I mean, let's face it, nothing about this journey is the same as most people's journeys toward parenthood. And I'm mostly ok with that. Mostly grateful that there is a way for us to become parents. Amazed that someone will join us on this journey and help us become parents. But, to be totally honest and transparent, every now and then I do feel that ache of wishing it were different...more like everyone else.