What's Left of Us
Page 14
She gives me a pleased smile.
The discussion quickly turns to baby names, Genna’s suggestions making us all laugh. I’m not sure how she comes up with some of them so fast, considering I’m not sure a lot of them are even real names.
I like thinking that someday Parker and I will be having this discussion and I doubt it will be an easy decision.
Even though I didn’t see this part of my life at one time, I see it now. This is how everything was supposed to turn out. Being a wife, having a great career, a family, and the support of those that mean the most to me.
I called The Circle of Life first thing Monday and scheduled an appointment with them for today, since my last final exam was yesterday.
The drive to the agency is about forty-five minutes. We don’t speak, but hold hands tightly the entire drive.
When we walk into the waiting room, tension is thick, stress and apprehension written all over the faces of the hopeful parents. It’s almost painful to see. I’d imagined walking into a room filled with bright colors and smiling faces, not dim lighting and worried expressions.
Parker gives my hand a quick reassuring squeeze as we approach the desk.
“Good morning; how can I help you?” the receptionist asks with a smile.
“Good morning. We have a ten o’clock appointment with Polly,” Parker answers.
She looks down at her computer screen, does some button pushing, and then grabs a stack of paperwork, handing it to Parker on a clipboard with a pen. “If you could please fill these out and bring them back once they’re completed, I’ll let her know you’ll be ready as soon as you’re done.”
We flip through each page, answering questions about our income, desired surrogate location, and medical history, reminding me of why we’re here in the first place.
“Desired location?” I whisper to Parker. “Who wouldn’t want someone from the same area carrying their baby?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it helps if you’re not picky about the location?”
“Huh.”
We didn’t really discuss looking outside the Twin Cities. Quite honestly, I didn’t even consider it an option. I want to be near the woman who’s going to be carrying our child.
After the paperwork is filled out, we sit in silence, flipping through magazines until our names are called.
We’re taken to a quiet office by a tall blonde who asks us to be seated. “Polly will be with you in a couple of minutes. Would either of you like something to drink? Coffee or water?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
I’m too nervous to drink anything, afraid if I do I may end up peeing my pants. I’m anxious, yet excited.
Soon we’re greeted by a quiet knock. “Good morning,” a sweet voice says. I turn in my chair to get the first glimpse at the woman who will help decide our fate. She’s older, with short, curly brown hair and cute small-framed glasses.
“Hello,” we reply.
Parker stands to greet her, towering over her. I stay seated, waiting for them to finish their greeting.
“I’m Polly. It’s so nice to meet the two of you.”
“Likewise,” Parker says.
Taking her seat, Polly asks, “Why don’t you tell me about yourselves and what you’re interested in.”
She listens carefully, making notes as we take turns speaking.
“At this point, we’re really interested in knowing what to expect in terms of cost, time-line, et cetera,” Parker concludes.
“Of course. First, I’ve looked over Aundrea’s history and,” she pauses, looking at me, “it looks like you underwent a transvaginal oocyte retrieval about seven years ago before starting chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, correct?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I knew I’d have to discuss my history—and, hence, why we’re here—but it doesn’t make it easier talking about it with a complete stranger. “That’s correct.”
“And they’re stored where, exactly?”
“At Twin Cities Fertility Specialists. Do you work with them?” I ask as she writes the name down. I’m not sure what the process of transporting the eggs entails, or what the cost of something like that would even be.
“We have, yes, and we’d have your surrogate go there for the implantation process, which is something you would list in your contract with her, as well as pay the transportation fees for. But we’ll get to all that in a minute.” She glances at the papers in her hand before turning back to me. “The embryos have not been created, correct?”
“Right.”
“I would recommend getting that started. It’s an easy process and can be done with Twin Cities Fertility. You won’t need us for that, and it will help with the process once a surrogate is selected for the two of you.”
“What exactly is that process?” Parker asks, glancing my way.
“Honestly, not much, aside from the drive and your donation, Parker. Basically, you’ll schedule an appointment and drop off a specimen, which the clinic will transfer into the egg. The embryo will take about three to five days to develop. Those will be frozen until they’re needed for the transfer. As far as how many embryos you choose to create is entirely up to you, but the specialist with the clinic may suggest a number.”
“That sounds easy enough,” Parker says.
The knots in my stomach are replaced with butterflies at the thought of creating a child with Parker. It may not be the typical way, but it’s our way.
The discussion quickly turns to baby names, Genna’s suggestions making us all laugh. I’m not sure how she comes up with some of them so fast, considering I’m not sure a lot of them are even real names.
I like thinking that someday Parker and I will be having this discussion and I doubt it will be an easy decision.
Even though I didn’t see this part of my life at one time, I see it now. This is how everything was supposed to turn out. Being a wife, having a great career, a family, and the support of those that mean the most to me.
I called The Circle of Life first thing Monday and scheduled an appointment with them for today, since my last final exam was yesterday.
The drive to the agency is about forty-five minutes. We don’t speak, but hold hands tightly the entire drive.
When we walk into the waiting room, tension is thick, stress and apprehension written all over the faces of the hopeful parents. It’s almost painful to see. I’d imagined walking into a room filled with bright colors and smiling faces, not dim lighting and worried expressions.
Parker gives my hand a quick reassuring squeeze as we approach the desk.
“Good morning; how can I help you?” the receptionist asks with a smile.
“Good morning. We have a ten o’clock appointment with Polly,” Parker answers.
She looks down at her computer screen, does some button pushing, and then grabs a stack of paperwork, handing it to Parker on a clipboard with a pen. “If you could please fill these out and bring them back once they’re completed, I’ll let her know you’ll be ready as soon as you’re done.”
We flip through each page, answering questions about our income, desired surrogate location, and medical history, reminding me of why we’re here in the first place.
“Desired location?” I whisper to Parker. “Who wouldn’t want someone from the same area carrying their baby?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it helps if you’re not picky about the location?”
“Huh.”
We didn’t really discuss looking outside the Twin Cities. Quite honestly, I didn’t even consider it an option. I want to be near the woman who’s going to be carrying our child.
After the paperwork is filled out, we sit in silence, flipping through magazines until our names are called.
We’re taken to a quiet office by a tall blonde who asks us to be seated. “Polly will be with you in a couple of minutes. Would either of you like something to drink? Coffee or water?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
I’m too nervous to drink anything, afraid if I do I may end up peeing my pants. I’m anxious, yet excited.
Soon we’re greeted by a quiet knock. “Good morning,” a sweet voice says. I turn in my chair to get the first glimpse at the woman who will help decide our fate. She’s older, with short, curly brown hair and cute small-framed glasses.
“Hello,” we reply.
Parker stands to greet her, towering over her. I stay seated, waiting for them to finish their greeting.
“I’m Polly. It’s so nice to meet the two of you.”
“Likewise,” Parker says.
Taking her seat, Polly asks, “Why don’t you tell me about yourselves and what you’re interested in.”
She listens carefully, making notes as we take turns speaking.
“At this point, we’re really interested in knowing what to expect in terms of cost, time-line, et cetera,” Parker concludes.
“Of course. First, I’ve looked over Aundrea’s history and,” she pauses, looking at me, “it looks like you underwent a transvaginal oocyte retrieval about seven years ago before starting chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, correct?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I knew I’d have to discuss my history—and, hence, why we’re here—but it doesn’t make it easier talking about it with a complete stranger. “That’s correct.”
“And they’re stored where, exactly?”
“At Twin Cities Fertility Specialists. Do you work with them?” I ask as she writes the name down. I’m not sure what the process of transporting the eggs entails, or what the cost of something like that would even be.
“We have, yes, and we’d have your surrogate go there for the implantation process, which is something you would list in your contract with her, as well as pay the transportation fees for. But we’ll get to all that in a minute.” She glances at the papers in her hand before turning back to me. “The embryos have not been created, correct?”
“Right.”
“I would recommend getting that started. It’s an easy process and can be done with Twin Cities Fertility. You won’t need us for that, and it will help with the process once a surrogate is selected for the two of you.”
“What exactly is that process?” Parker asks, glancing my way.
“Honestly, not much, aside from the drive and your donation, Parker. Basically, you’ll schedule an appointment and drop off a specimen, which the clinic will transfer into the egg. The embryo will take about three to five days to develop. Those will be frozen until they’re needed for the transfer. As far as how many embryos you choose to create is entirely up to you, but the specialist with the clinic may suggest a number.”
“That sounds easy enough,” Parker says.
The knots in my stomach are replaced with butterflies at the thought of creating a child with Parker. It may not be the typical way, but it’s our way.
