the things I would have said.

I didn't write the eulogy, but if I had.....

I've thought about this for the last month since my uncle died. I've thought about which words I might use to talk about his life and his death, and about which stories I might tell that do the best job of telling the true story of who he was.

I've written and erased, and typed and deleted, before I realized that I was being completely ridiculous.

I was making entirely too difficult something which, in fact, is quite simple.

This is what I would have said:

He showed up.

As a friend he showed up, always ready to party like a rockstar. Or help you move. Or celebrate a Vikings win (or strategize for the next game, when they'll certainly win).

He showed up in his career, day after day. Project after project.

He showed up for his family. For his wife - for nearly 30 years, a marriage filled with love, laughter, grace... and some more laughter. I learned from him and Jackie what that looks like, and it's beautiful.

Wonderful stuff, right? A beautiful life... But we're all still waiting.

[here I would pause and look up and around the full-to-the-brim church]

These are all honorable ways to be remembered - but none of these descriptions quite capture how you will carry his memory do they?

I bet you will remember how he showed up for you when you needed him.

I'm guessing he showed up for you when you needed a friend. Or maybe he showed up to watch you play football, or to watch you cheer, or maybe a swim meet, or dance recital? That who he was - he showed up, usually with great energy, or a great idea, or just the right thing to say to shine light on a tricky situation.

Or maybe not.

Maybe he had empty arms and nothing to say. But you know what?

He still showed up - with a hug as big as his presence.

But you all know this already, that's why we're all here today. We are here today to show up for Dave, one last time, just like he has shown up for all of us.

I'm heartbroken that his life has ended. I'm sad for myself, and for Jackie, and for his children, and granddaughters, and all who loved him. At the end of the day, this church will be empty, we all are going to leave here today and be sad about saying goodbye to someone we love. We'll walk away, and grieve our grief, and live our lives. And time will pass and the sorrow will dull to a fine ache. But that's not the end. Not even a little bit. Every time we show up and are present for the people we love, he'll be there too. That is love, and love is eternal.

"Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is not separation." Rumi

a poem for today.

It's Mother's Day today. It was a lovely day, despite the rainy cold weather. I checked my email after tucking the boys snugly in bed, and I found this in my inbox from Jill:

Carmen,

Something I wanted to share with you...

"The moment a child is born the mother is also born
 she never existed before
 the woman existed but the mother, never
 a mother is something absolutely new..."

-Rajneesh

Thank you Carmen...forever, thank you.

Sometimes you're a surrogate. And sometimes your eyes well up when you realize, again and again, how surrogacy has given you just as much as it has given them.

Happy Mother's Day,
Carmen

sometimes you're a surrogate : what people say part 1

When you're pregnant, there are lots of people who want to talk to you about being pregnant. When you're pregnant with a baby that isn't yours ALL the people want to talk to you about being pregnant. I figured I'd talk about some of the wonderful and wonderfully interesting things I've heard when talking to people about being a surrogate.

The number one thing people say, or have said, is "Won't that be hard to give up/part with/say goodbye to/hand over/go home without the baby?

My simple standard response was something along the lines of, "Not in the way you'd think. The goal of this whole process was to put a baby in the arms of this couple who I care so much about, and I think that will be incredibly exciting."

I do not, and have never, wanted to keep baby Bunny. My pregnancy felt very different, because I did not bond with the baby in my belly like I did with my boys. Before Bunny flew home I loved snuggling, smooching, and cuddling with the squishy little babe, but I loved it even more to watch the new parents swoon over their new addition.

The more complicated answer is, of course it's hard. But still not in the way you'd think. It's hard because I just did the most fantastic thing ever, and now it's over. It's hard because I've grown to know and absolutely love this family, and as it turns out, they live on the other side of the country. It's hard because we all share this amazing, unique bond, we've been through a magnificently long, exciting, intensely emotional process together and when it was over we gave hugs and they boarded a plane home.

The best way I can think to describe the hard part, isn't hard at all, I'd say emotional. It's the single most emotional process I've ever been a part of.  I feel like that word is packed, for me it is anyway, but when I use it here I'm doing so to convey that exact thing. Surrogacy is so packed with emotion, but in the absolute best way I could have imagined.

Competing for the next most common statements would be, "I could never do that!" and "I've always wanted to do that!"

To the friends in the former camp I would usually try to emphasize the scope of the process. Folks tend to oversimplify gestational surrogacy in their heads, but this is simply because they don't know how extensive the matching/legal/psych and medical screening/cycle prep can be. So I elude to how "It's quite a lengthy process to get going, but once the serious busywork is out of the way it's so rewarding."

Often I'm tempted to say, "It's not like I just decided I wanted to be a surrogate and then went and did it." Except, that's exactly what happened. But I want to be sure to talk about the fullness of what the adventure entails, just in case they are serious about investigating a surro journey and honestly want to know more.

To those who say, "Oh, I could never do that!" I usually agree with them with "You know, you're probably right." I'm not attempting to sound pretentious, I swear! I always follow it with a dialogue about how each individual knows themself best and if they don't think they'd would enjoy a surrogacy, that's a-OK. The extensive, emotional, and complex process isn't for everyone, and there is nothing wrong with that.

If you hate pregnancy, you probably won't want to be a surrogate. If you honestly think you
would have a difficult time emotionally, surrogacy probably isn't for you. Admitting that surrogacy isn't a good fit for you is a million times braver than ignoring these things only to realize you were right and really shouldn't have proceeded with a surrogate pregnancy afterall.
     
I'll leave you with a short and simple question that I've gotten three times only. And thank goodness. "So did you have to have sex with someone else?"

Now, I try not to get upset when I've been asked this because obviously these people really don't have

the slightest clue about surrogacy, or they have been terribly misinformed previously. Surrogacy never, ever, involves sex. If someone tells you differently, they are wrong. People operating under this misconception are most often referring to a planned adoption, which is not, in any way whatsoever, the same thing.

On that note, see you all soon!
Carmen

sometimes you're a surrogate. six months later.

Coming up next week will be Bunny's six month birthday. What?!

I can't even believe that it has been half a year already. Let me tell you, it's a strange feeling. There are days when I can't believe it's been six months already, but there are other days where it feels so far removed from my current day-to-day activities that it seems like it has been so much longer. 

I've thought about how I would write this half-year check up, and I've started it multiple times and then erased and restarted. Shockingly, I'm not often short on words, but writing about my surrogacy sometimes leaves me searching for just the right way to say things. There is so much to say, so much to talk about... it often feels too overwhelming to try to pinpoint the experience into words. It feels limiting to even try. But you all know that I'm always up for a good challenge. 

I've decided to to a series here on the blog, to chronicle the journey in retrospect. I did a fairly good job checking in about the pregnancy and delivery, but I thought I'd dig in a little bit and give a fuller picture about the depth of the journey. It only makes sense that I'll call the series Sometimes You're a Surrogate. So those entries will be coming soon, but for today I've got a broad rundown of the six month milestone. 

six months later I am feeling wonderful.

this applies to emotionally and physically.

my energy levels are better than ever and my post-partum complications are long resolved. 

emotionally I am wonderfully content.

my body is returning to its un-pregnant shape, more importantly though, I have an abundance of newly found appreciation for my body and its capabilities.

my relationship with Jack, Jill, and Bunny is so much more than I ever could have expected.
we text often, talk on the phone, and facetime here and there, and I so cherish all three.

life at home with the guys is great, and they love seeing pictures of Bunny and hearing Jack and Jill talk about their new baby.

lately I've had a few experiences when I get to talk about my surrogacy with people who didn't know about it, and it's just as fun as I thought it would be.

as it turns out, I'm enjoying not being pregnant more than I anticipated. don't get me wrong, it was fantastic while it lasted but it is so fun to have my body back to myself.

except I saw a teeeeny tiiiiiny baby at a restaurant when we were having dinner the other night and it kind of made my uterus ache.

but it wasn't anything so serious that a glass of wine couldn't cure it.

during my surrogate pregnancy I frequented an online surrogacy forum, afterwards I still kept up with it fairly often. as of lately though, I have noticed that I don't log on as often as I used to. while not a huge deal, it reminds me that the adventure now lies in the past and I'm continuing to move forward.

the beauty of the adventure permeates into my daily life still, and I think it always will. that being said, moving forward is the tune I'm marching to these days.

what do I mean by this? well, after an endeavor as life-changing as surrogacy, I was so deeply steeped into the journey that it flooded into my daily life, even when it really didn't anymore. that disconnect was odd and it felt funny in my life. as time has elapsed, that disconnect is fading quickly into this pride and joy that sit still in my heart. it no longer feels as though it's a big secret I carry in my pocket, but more like a highlighted poem written down in a journal.

this experience so special, and so much a part of who I am, but it's ok to let it separate from the surface of my days. it won't go anywhere.

this is largely what doing this series is about, for me, anyway. by bringing my experiences out to be written and read, it brings them out to a space where I recognize that I can let these memories peek out from my heart and soul, while disregarding the irrational fear that they'll sneak away forever.

until next time,
Carmen

if you need this today, I wrote it for you.

I was planning to write a post tonight about life lately around here. It was not going to be interesting, but it was going to be witty (obviously) and to the point. After that I was going to drink tea and watch reruns of Grey's.

Before settling in to carry out my master plan, I was perusing instagram. By golly I love instagram. I was just toodling about when I ran accross something that really made my heart sad. It was a thinspo page. Read: It was a page full of  photos of stick thin girls, mantras about being thin (not fit, not healthy, thin) not wanting to eat a single morsel too much, and so on and so forth. I read the profile of the owner of said page and my heart got even sadder. This profile listed a starting weight, current weight, and goal weight. 111, 101, and 94 pounds respectively.

This user had over eleven thousand followers.

At the end of the day, I'll never know the person behind that account, but I wanted to write them a letter. Just in case, you know, they read my blog religiously.

Dearest friend,

I don't know if anyone has told you lately, but you are quite lovely. Your smile lights up the room, and your laughter is contagious. One of my favorite things about you is how your eyes twinkle when you speak about something that ignites your soul, how your passion rises up into your voice and infects all of those who are listening.

Your witty charm has always impressed me and your movie trivia is impossible to beat. When you're sad, I find it endearing that you always find the same ratty sweater and watch Message in a Bottle, despite the fact that you could recite that film start to finish. You make the absolute best margarita this side of the Rio Grande. I admire your grit, and determination, and hard-working disposition.

Friend, these are the things that make you beautiful. I know it's cliche, but beauty truly does originate on the inside. It forms in the depths of you soul and radiates through you. It's this beauty that draws people to you and builds a life of depth and meaning. You are a marvelous character, and the beauty that you have is irrelevant to the number that you read on the scale each morning, noon, and night.

You are beautiful. Right now today. And tomorrow, and yesterday, and even during that super awkward stage in eighth grade. It is who you are, down to the very core of your being.

I hope you are well, friend. I hope that you don't let anyone or anything, even the scale, tell you what your worth. Because honestly, you are priceless. If you need help, please call 1-800-931-2237 to get things back on track. You are worth it. 

With warm hugs

Sincerely,
Carmen

this sounds like a psa I know, but honestly, if you or someone you know struggles with an eating disorder call the number above to reach the national eating disorders association hotline. they are also online (because who isn't?) at http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org

the bully that spilled my kid's milk.

Christian got bullied at school earlier this week. In the cafeteria at lunch. He came home in tears and it took every ounce of everything I had not to cry as he told me what happened. Evidently a first-grade boy purposely knocked over Christian's milk and proceeded to put his hat, gloves, and lunchbox in the puddle of milk.  I was equal parts furious and heartbroken, on the inside of course. I tried my absolute best to be supportive on the outside. To turn this into a learning opportunity, and be a warm place for Christian to snuggle and recuperate his sad little soul. 

As soon as he had bounced back enough to go play, I sent a I'mSuperPissedButI'mTryingToMaintainMyComposure email to both his teacher and principal about the incident. Let me start by saying that I LOVE Christian's teacher so much. I wasn't the least bit surprised when she emailed me back first thing the next morning and was already on top of it. Yos, Christian, and I were able to meet with his teacher and the principal that afternoon to discuss the details of the event and they reassured me that the bully had been identified and was serving an appropriate consequence. 

I HATE that my son was picked on. He is my son. Nobody is allowed to hurt his feelings. I'm almost surprised by how I reacted. I was a mama bear. I was going to do whatever I had to in order to make sure that this was going to be fixed - that this other little boy would be spoken with about how wrong it is to pick on other kids. 

As we left the school after that meeting, finally, the steam coming out of my ears had been replaced with satisfaction and optimism that this wouldn't happen again. In the relief, I found myself thinking about this other boy. At seven years old, this isn't quite like the time a couple years ago where Nolan bit the tot sitting next to him at daycare to see what would happen. Now, that was mean too, but this child is at an age where he can likely understand that it is wrong to tease other children. To spill their milk and laugh while you soak their hat, gloves, and lunchbox in it... Who even does that? Kids who are needing something that they aren't getting. That's who. 

Later in the evening, I explained to Christian that hurt people, hurt people. I told him how bullying is often is a result of something that the bully has going on inside instead of a problem with the person on the receiving end of the unkind actions or words. 

You know what my guy said in response to that? 

"I hope he isn't too hurt on the inside, maybe I can think good things for that boy so his insides can get better." 

And just like that, once again, Christian shows me what grace looks like. 

Until next time,

Carmen

2013

2013

This year has been filled with so much life.

I've been blessed exponentially with joy and health.

My husband told me the other night that this has been "our best year yet". 

Our sons are beautiful and healthy and brilliant.

I have cherished time with family and friends.

I have learned more both in school and in life (mostly life) than I ever could have imagined. 

My surrogacy adventure has opened my eyes and my heart in ways that words cannot describe.

Life in this house has never been filled with more laughter.

It's been a fantastic year.

I can't wait to see what 2014 holds.

Happy New Year,

Carmen

i'll carry that.

This post comes at a perfect time. Just after my proclamation of adoration to my college career, it's important to acknowledge the other side. I love college, but it's not always bright and shiny. 

I think these feelings are applicable to lots of women these days. More women are pursuing careers outside of the home than ever. Whether out of need or desire, it doesn't matter, both are valid and honorable. That being said, it's not easy to carry the full time job of mom/wife/chef/housekeeper and carry anything else at the same time. 

It's heavy to carry multiple things at once. 

Dinner? I'll carry that.

Bedtime stories? I'll carry that. 

1200 word paper on the aspect of government I find most interesting (....seriously.)? I'll carry that. 

Meeting with a student of mine who is failing and realizes it's almost the end of the semester? I'll carry that.

9 am Kindergarten Christmas concert? I'll carry that. 

It's a juggling act, and women today are professionals jugglers. But something I'm finding is that I'm carrying more than just these tasks.

The disappointment in Christian's eyes when I have to study instead of play? I'll carry that.

The remarks on my paper that it's well thought out, but rushed? I'll carry that. 

The frustration in Yosi's voice as I call to say I'll be home late and miss dinner (again.)? I'll carry that. 

My own sinking heart as I drop Nolan off an extra day at daycare so I can catch up on school work? I'll carry that. 

Knowing that I submitted work that was less than my best because I spent the evening painting Christmas ornaments instead of working on homework all night like I my homework demanded? I'll carry that. 

There are times where it feels impossible to continue on with the current load I'm juggling. 

As long as I feel it's important to continue my career outside of the home, I'm going to juggle. And for as long as this is my reality, there are times when I just can't be everywhere all the time. And when this happens, there is disappointment from one direction or another, and always the disappointment that I have with myself for not actually having super powers. I'll carry that, too. 

Until next time,
Carmen 

i love college.

disclaimer:

being delicate is ok. while being vast and brilliant. of course.

This post has been cooking in my head for quite awhile. I still don't know if it accurately portrays my deep appreciation I have in my heart for my college experience. 

When you have your first baby when you're 16, things are different for you. When you proceed to get married the next year, and then have another baby a year after that... things are different for you. I have so much love for my family. My heart is overwhelmed with joy because of these boys in my life. That being said, after Christian was born, there was a part of me that never really thought that I'd go to college. It was fine because I wasn't all that concerned with college, I would just go to work and enjoy my family and it would be fine. 

Three years, a wedding, and another baby later, I didn't feel that way anymore. I was unhappy with my job, my marriage surviving instead of thriving, and I was unhappy with myself. Then a day came around when I just couldn't be that person anymore. I needed a change. And that change was an education. 

Being a non-traditional student isn't easy. It's included countless late nights at the computer with coffee and a calculator. I've missed  more bedtimes than I'd like to admit. I've been a cranky wife for midterms and finals season for four semesters now. But you know what? I'm proud of myself. 

I'm proud that I go to college. I'm proud that my name is on the Dean's list. I'm proud of those grades I look at now that I never earned in high school. I'm proud that I earned a teaching assistant internship. I'm proud to have participated in some fantastic and enriching learning experiences. I'm proud to have had the opportunity to connect with some of the most interesting individuals. I'm proud that I've grown as a person. And a mom. And a wife. 

College has been such a transformative experience for me. I love the academic environment. I love being surrounded by people who have such knowledge and experience in fields that they love. I love listening to professors lecture about things they love and are passionate about. 

I love college. I love the woman it has encouraged me to become. I love that I can look at my life and say with complete honesty that I'm proud of who I'm becoming. 

I love college.

Until next time,

Carmen

a public service announcement:

do not tell pregnant women how big they look.

ever.

Okay so Yosi, the guys, and I were at a fiesta last night. It was fine.

Except all these women kept commenting on how big I am. 

This makes me cranky. You know what? Yes, I am big. BECAUSE I'M GROWING A HUMAN BEING.

A human that does not even belong to me. 

Pretty rad, huh? 

It's not even the surrogacy thing. I got this with my guys too, and it just baffles me every single time. What leaves me even more befuddled is that a whopping majority of these comments come from women.

Rarely will you find a man who comments negatively on a woman's size - pregnant or not - directly to her face. Why? Because it's rude. That's why. 

But for some odd reason, certain women seem to think it's completely fine to tell a pregnant woman how ginormous she has gotten. 

If this is you, please realize that it's not okay. She knows. Trust me, she knows that there is a 5 pound child occupying her entire abdominal cavity. She knows that every second of the day when she moves slower than usual. She knows it when she has to take a nap instead of go to the park, simply because the act of growing that child can be completely exhausting. She knows it when she's up for the fourth time that night to empty her teeny tiny bladder. She knows it when she's trying hard to put together a train puzzle on the floor and eventually has to look on from the couch because that baby has curled up in her ribs so high that the bones feel like they might actually snap. She knows when she goes to get dressed and... I won't even go there. 

But you know what? She doesn't mind. She gets to feel that baby rolling around and hiccuping. When she tosses and turns at night, hoping to find a comfortable way to sleep, she thinks about what wonderful things this new life will accomplish during their own time on earth. She knows that because of her sacrifice, a family will grow, and more love will come to exist in this world. 

Literally. Love that did not even exist before, will now be a part of the universe. Think about that for a second. Brand new love.

So yes, pregnant women get big. But we do not need your comments on the matter. Especially those comments designed to do nothing other than fill the air. The comments that do nothing to lift us up, but rather could only be intended to make us feel less anything less than remarkable. Because that is honestly what we are. We are over here, growing love, and all you can think to comment on is how big we look? 

Well, I think that you'd be better off saying nothing at all. 

Carmen

mice.

I wish there was mice here.

I hate mice. I'm terrified of those little critters. It's a completely irrational fear, this I understand, but I would rather hang out with 100 spiders before crossing paths with a single mouse. 

I really hate mice. 

But I wish I could here them in my walls. Or see their disgusting little tails scurrying along the floor in my basement.

Then maybe I would actually want to leave this house. 

We have to move. Again. We just moved in here in December, and I love this house. I love it's charm. I love the size, and the yard, and the kitchen, and I love the big picture window, and I love the flower beds out front, and I love how it's cozy but not ridiculously small. 

We are renting this house from a woman who has evidently run into some serious financial trouble. The more I learn about her situation, the sadder I am for her. And for us too, because it means that we have to leave this house.

I really dislike moving. I dislike it even more when I don't yet know where I'm moving to. 

I really dislike uprooting my family from a home that we love, and had intended to make our own. 

Sigh.

I wish there was mice here.