Bubbles

A few years ago, we were in the car with Ryan’s parents and had just pulled up to their country club for dinner. The car next to us had an older couple in the front, and a man appearing to be in his 30s in the back.  He was wearing a bow tie, which made him seem overdressed for a casual dinner on a warm summer night.  He was frantically waving at us and was very excited to see my Father-In Law.  “John! Hi John!  Are you going to Bubbles?” he asked.  I was surprised by his enthusiasm, but thought it was very endearing.

Later that night, I brought up the sweet man who was talking about Bubbles, and asked John how he knew him.  John seemed confused.  I said “The special needs man wearing the bowtie in the backseat of his parent’s car.  I think he asked if you wanted to go do bubbles?”  John thought for a second, then he and Kathy burst out laughing. It turns out the man is special, but not in the way I had perceived him to be.  He is an incredibly successful hedge fund manager and owns multiple homes throughout the country, one of them being on the same block as Kathy and John.  The older couple in the front of the car were not his parents, and he was wearing a bowtie because he was attending an event as a benefactor for a Children’s fundraiser.  The event was called “Bubbles.”  I couldn’t believe my ridiculous, although humorous, assumption of the scenario. It was a learning that things aren’t always what they seem, and I’ve been reminded of that multiple times over the last few months.

Ryan and I had decided to do a third and final embryo transfer with our current surrogate.  We had taken a break for four months after the last failed transfer.  She agreed to do additional testing, and we genetically tested our few remaining embryos. Statistically, the odds were very much in our favor this time given how many previous losses we've had.  We knew we were transferring embryo #13, and we all called it Lucky 13.  Plus, it was March and we would be getting results back on St. Patrick’s Day.  We hoped for luck of the Irish.

The two of us made our sixth trip to Connecticut for our standard ‘Let’s have lunch and try to get a woman pregnant’ day.  This drive on the Merritt Parkway is always oddly peaceful.  We usually talk about how it is bittersweet that this may be our last time making this trip.  We hope it is our last because it works, not because we’ve run out of attempts.  Either way, we say we’ll miss the drive and all the various feelings that come with it.  Then we sit quietly and listen to music for the next 90 minutes.

When we arrived at the clinic, we made light of it and told the nurses we knew exactly where to go and what to do.  They call us the resident experts. Lucky #13 was released into our Surrogate, and we parted ways all feeling extra hopeful.  She flew back to Florida the next day, and we felt calm and excited over the next 9 days while we waited for the results.

The day before our surrogate’s blood test, she texted me asking if I wanted her to take an at home pregnancy test.  She said she wanted to ask me the two previous times, but never did.  I appreciated her for asking, but told her I’d prefer to wait one more day for the official results. That night, I told Ryan that my gut tells me she took a test before texting me, and it was positive.  Why would she ask me this time and not the others, and why would she want to be the one to deliver bad news if it was negative?  Our nurses had gotten too good at that. Ryan told me I was overthinking it, as women often do.

The next morning, we learned that my gut was right.  The official bloodwork showed that Lucky #13 stuck, and numbers were looking great.  We were pregnant!  She had in fact been taking at home pregnancy tests for several days, all which were positive.  We were elated, and this felt perfect.  She’d have repeat bloodwork in 4 days just to make sure her pregnancy hormones were continuing to rise. We felt that Lucky #13 was the next baby that was meant to be part of our family. 

Four days later, I dressed the kids in their St. Patrick’s day outfits, wore any good luck jewelry that I had, and was thankful it was a Monday so I could work from home.  A couple of hours went by and I hadn’t received a call from the clinic.  I left them a message, and then went out for a run along the river.  I was enjoying the sunshine and feeling the endorphins but then suddenly kept hearing in my head ‘It won’t be good, but it’ll be ok.’  Just then, my phone rang.  I answered it out of breath.  It was the familiar voice of our sweet nurse.  “Her numbers are declining.  It’s either a chemical pregnancy, or she’ll have an early miscarriage.”  I calmly thanked her for the call and apologized that she had to deliver bad news.  “Jan…”she said before hanging up.  “None of us were expecting this.  I’m so sorry.”

I called my Mom hysterical crying from the pier.  She was comforting, as she always is, but she ran out of new things to say.  I think the hardest part has been how many times we’ve had such highs, but then they’ve come crashing down.  Disappointments are one thing, but our story has had so many scenarios where everything seems great, and then they take an abrupt turn. We’ve had miscarriages along with failed transfers.  My mom pointed out that each time I’ve received a call that the pregnancy would likely turn into a loss, it brings me back to when my own pregnancy seemed perfect, until the diagnosis in the 28th week. Then Kiera seemed to be doing Ok, until she wasn’t.

I went home from my run and shared the sad news with Ryan.  He wasn’t expecting it either, but we hugged and reminded each other that we have our two miracles and our lives were wonderful. I called our coordinator at the surrogacy agency who has been with us for the last five years of this journey.  I started to cry when she answered, and she broke down as well.  She said this has been one of the longest and hardest surrogacy journeys that the agency has experienced, with four unsuccessful attempts in a row. 

A few days later, I had a call with the doctor at our clinic.  I could hear the hesitation in his voice.  He started with “I know how long the wait is for a surrogate, how hard it is to build trust, and how much of an emotional investment it is.  But..”  I cut him off by saying “You don’t have to say it. I know we need to break our contract with her.”  Later that night, I received a beautiful but heart breaking text from our surrogate apologizing for not being able to give us this gift.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to say the words “It’s not your fault” during a major life event.  She went through so much to try and make another baby possible for us over the past 10 months.  Like many things in life, there are truly no explanations.  It just wasn’t meant to be.

A few days later, my mom and I had a very honest and difficult conversation.  She told me that I am her number one priority, and it’s too hard hearing my heart break over and over.  When is it enough?  She said even though I seem to be able to handle and manage it, it’s all too heavy and too stressful to continuously endure.  I have two beautiful blessings, maybe they should be my only focus.  I appreciated and understood her perspective, and I know many people may feel this way about our circumstance.  But these disappointments do not take away from the love and joy I have with Rory and Bailey, it’s actually the opposite.  The heartaches magnify how miraculous they truly are.  In my heart, I’m hopeful that we’ll be blessed with another baby which we want so badly.  If we aren’t, I will have known that we gave it our all.

That night I told Ryan about the conversation I had with my mom.  I asked him if he genuinely wanted to get another surrogate and try again.  We have two embryos left.  He said that he loves being a Dad so much and that he agrees it’s worth it to keep pushing forward. We are now in the process of matching with our fifth surrogate.  We’re unintentionally forming our own Women’s basketball team. 

After I received the sad call the afternoon of St. Patrick's Day, I sent our nanny home so I could spend the extra time with Rory and Bay.  We were in the yard and I was watching them fight and then hug and fall down with laughter.  There is no better feeling than when they play together.  I was reflecting on how different things would be with their dynamic if their big sister Kiera was here, or if any of the babies we tried for made it here.  Then they asked “Can we do bubbles?” They giggled and danced in the sparkling clouds of bubbles pouring out of the bubble machine.  I smiled and thought to myself, things aren’t the way they seemed they’d be, but they’re perfect just as they are.