I start to get that feeling deep down in my gut, like I could cry. I hate everything I’ve made so far. I only had two hours to work and I’ve gone through an hour. I’m panicking, I’ve been working on the press. I decide to mix some paint, I mix some white with thick medium, some yellow. I start adding paint. I start some new pieces, with paint and collage. The creativity finally starts flowing. I stop self-critiquing, I start arriving in the moment, enjoying myself, liking what I’m making. I cover up a lot, next time I won’t cover up so much. I want to keep working but times up. I think about the week ahead and realize it will be difficult to get back into my studio. I woke up this morning at 4:30 to Jack wailing, I gave him Tylenol and a bottle of milk. I thought I should go work, but I was too tired. Before I had the babies I was in my studio every day. I worked for hours at a time. My biggest concern was not being able to work. But as the months went by and I saw how fast the babies were growing I took comfort. I knew one day soon they will be doing their own thing and I will be doing mine. This makes me sad too, if I was younger I would have more babies because it is a wonderful experience. But then I would never get into my studio. It always feels like time is running out. I need to get back to meditation.
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One year ago we were at Tahoe Forest Hospital, the night had been long. Jack nestled on my chest, I could hear the fluid in his lungs as he breathed. Fiona on Alan’s chest hooked up to an oxygen monitor, she had a lot more fluid. Malissa was in the next room recovering from a traumatic delivery. Although if you asked her she probably wouldn’t describe it like that. I can’t wait to see her, I ask the nurse is she OK? How is she feeling? The nurse, says she is fine and she is pumping to get the colostrum. Yesterday Malissa and Tom came to visit us. She walked in the door, gentle and sweet, we hug. Her husband has the same relaxed vibe. Jack and Fiona welcome the visitors. I will tell them they were carried for nine months in Malissa’s belly when they are old enough to understand. People always ask me, “isn’t is weird to let Malissa see the babies?” It’s not, we are very comfortable with the situation. She texted me this after they left: “Thanks Alan and Jenny! These are the times that make being a surrogate that much more rewarding. To see two healthy, happy, beautifully growing little kids and two happy wonderful parents. I couldn’t of asked for more. You are both doing an amazing job with your babies. Love you all! Thank you for sharing your family with us.” Malissa, Tom, and their kids feel like family to me. I love them. As Tom and Malissa left and walked down the stairs we saw him rub her back comforting her. Back in the kitchen Alan and I hug. We think how lucky we are to have found Malissa. While we were pregnant I read a lot on the internet about surrogacy, and was upset by how many people made comments about how if a woman can’t have a baby naturally that should be the end of it. People talked about how it was wrong to use a gestational carrier. I let that confuse me, I felt ashamed and didn’t tell anyone what I was doing, just a few of my closest friends. Malissa was always proud from the beginning. Her whole community was rooting for us. They supported her the whole way, cooking her meals and helping out however they could. I envy her close knit community. It’s a beautiful thing. It took ten years for my husband and me to have babies. Every new step we took that failed I was ready to quit. But we kept going, through fertility treatments, miscarriage, finally after two surrogates that didn’t work out we met Malissa. It didn’t work the first time and I was devastated. But we all decided we had to try one last time, and this was REALLY the last time. This is how Jack and Fiona came to us.
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Buzzzzzzz Fiona’s hand grabs at her ear, through her striped Hanna Anderson hat she tries to pull off her hearing aid. “pat pat pat” I say which is what I’ve learned from Early Start to teach babies to keep their hearing aids in. She’s whining and tired, it’s almost morning nap time. “Just one more bite, you’re almost done with your cereal.” I take off her hat, take out her hearing aids. As I carry her to the play n pack she’s whiny and I say “SHHHH” but she can’t hear me. I put on the sleep sheep but she can’t hear it. I give her Tiger and she starts sucking her thumb and cuddling tiger. A few minutes go by and Fiona is whining and whining, I go back in the room where the babies are napping and she’s dropped her Tiger out of the play and pack. I feel myself getting really stressed and annoyed. Take a deep breath. Give back her Tiger, Jacks doing fine, “take your nap babies” I say and shut the door. Yesterday at the non-party birthday party I was babbling back to Willa, My Friend Bettina’s eight month old baby girl. I had a brief moment where I had to question if she could hear me or not. Of course she can, she has perfect hearing, but I’m so used to thinking about Fiona’s hearing loss and if she has her hearing aids in or not it seeps into my interactions with hearing babies. I feel so much pressure to make sure I’m using the hearing aids as much as possible so Fiona will learn language. I feel guilty when I don’t put them on, when I just let Fiona “BE.” I let her head breath. I read as many books as I can when Fiona and Jack are in their high chairs, I always have her hearing aids on in her high chair. She still misses so much. There is so much time she is not wearing her hearing aids. I want to believe that’s OK. I feel like she’s still learning so much, she’s still learning about communication, she’s not learning as many “words” as Jack, but in time she will catch up.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 