Well that escalated quickly

So when I last posted I did a recap of my first ultra and said how I had really lost my mojo for running.  So I decided on that day, June 30, 2020, that I would finally go for my first ever 300 mile month and further make the requirement that I run 10 miles minimum every day.  I'm not one of those who is good at "starting my new diet on Monday" so to speak so I ran ten miles that day.  I continued on throughout the month of July, logging 334 miles that month.  I continued to run at least ten a day through the 9th of August and then my body said I needed a break so I went back to my more normal mileage.  But I learned, yet again, that high(ish) mileage is so much more of a mind thing than a body thing.  

Now for the title...what escalated quickly you ask?  

At the end of last year I told myself that I was running my first 100 this year.  And then they kept getting cancelled.  While virtual races might do it for some people, they just aren't for me, plus none of my canceled races went virtual, they just gave you entry into next year.  I still had my chance at a 100 miler in Iowa in October but I started getting worried that it would be cancelled also.  I found a race that I was pretty sure wouldn't be cancelled and signed up.  For a 48 hours.  In Oklahoma.  In early September.  Predicted temps of upper 80's to mid 90's.  And humidity.  And I've never done a race in the heat.  What could go wrong?  I'm three weeks out from that now and about 8 weeks out from the 100 miler in Iowa.  I also have the 24 hour in KS in November.  Regardless, I'm hoping to cover 100 miles in the 48 hour and definitely get my first 100 miler in this year.  

Oh also when I registered for the Potawatomi run next year, which was cancelled from this year, I signed up for the 150 instead of the 100.  Because what could go wrong?   I feel like that is becoming a theme.  

So mileage will stay around 60 a week through the next two weeks and then have a taper week headed into the 48 hour.  So far it's looking like the race might be held, with restrictions.  Fingers crossed.  

Goals?

Don't die

Keep moving

100 miles

My A goal if everything goes perfect is 150 miles but I've never run more than 65 or so, so I'm sure that is ludicrous.  But this whole thing is ludicrous so why not dream big, right?  What could go wrong?  

And so it began...Prairie Spirit Trail 50 miler...March 2019

My first ultra was my first race in over ten years.  It was also my first race longer than 5K.  And I was never any good at the 5K's to tell the truth.  I would love to tell you I had some deep reason for trying an ultra but I would be lying.  I started running, kept running, and realized over time that while my paces were super slow, they were consistently super slow.  My pace for a 5 miler was the same as my pace for a 15 miler or a 20 miler.  So I decided that if I ran a super long race, maybe I could finish it and not be a laughing stock. 

So I chose PST 50 miler as my first.  It was late March and in Kansas.  I assumed the weather would be okayish.  I picked a motel out near the start finish.  This was an out and back run on a flat rail trail.  I assumed that would work fine.  I did a lot of assuming. 

The race day weather was not okayish.  I mean I guess it was for those people that knew what the heck they were doing.  I believe the course records in all distances fell that day.  But I had been a wimp and run on the treadmill when it was cold so I didn't have clue how to dress for a day out in this weather.  It rained.  It snowed.  It sleeted.  The winds were over 25 mph.  And those weren't the gusts. 

So I talked myself out of my first panic attack of the day and moved on.  I put on all of my clothes.  I get my numbers pinned on and we head for the start line.  Thankfully we got to sit inside a warm building until the start. 

So I sat there feeling like a complete fraud and completely unprepared.  We gathered at the start line and it started to snow.  We were all looking at each other, just waiting for someone to say "what the heck" but none of us did.  Then they told us to start so I did.  I ran the first 10 miles at an okay pace.  There were lots of people that were walking and running and when they would run they would pass me and then I would pass then when they were walking.  This was my first introduction into that form of pacing and I noticed as time went on that those who did the run/walk looked less like death than the rest of us back of the packers. 

About 12 miles in I stepped on a rock wrong and twisted my ankle.  At the time I convinced myself that I could not run anymore but over time, as I've done a few more races, I realize I could of.  I was giving myself an out to just plod along at a walking pace because my ankle hurt and it was my first ultra. 

So I ran a bit more but mostly walked.  I got to the halfway point and there was a train I had to wait on.  I talked to another guy while we waited for the train to pass and I thought we were doing okay and he thought we were pitiful wretches.  I mean we were but we were moving.  

The rest of the day was a blur.  I ran.  I had a pacer for one six mile section but by then I was just walking and I felt horrible that she was cold and I was so behind when I thought I would meet her (sorry Dana).  That was when I decided I would never have another pacer.  I enjoyed talking to her and she really lifted my spirits but the whole time I also just felt horrible for not running with her.  I should have just made myself run but at that point in my story I didn't realize I could make myself do hard things yet. 

Anywho, I walked and walked and walked and walked and even caught a few other lost souls.  I peed in the woods off the trail and my headlamp died while doing so.  That was fun.  My achilles ached horribly from the flat course and my upper back was so sore also.  I didn't drink enough and got so dehydrated that at the final aid station they said I was speaking Romulan.  I didn't eat enough.

I finally hobbled across the finish line after 14 1/2 hours.  I wasn't last but I was close to it.  But I hadn't quit and I got my belt buckle. 

I learned so much in that first ultra.  It took me about a week to walk normally but I kept running daily and kept my run streak alive.  I digested my lessons and beat myself up about my slow pace and refusal to run when I really probably could have and definitely should have.  And before I knew it, I had signed up for a 100K. 

Ultrarunning during Covid

Cancelled.

Rescheduled then cancelled. 

Cancelled. 

So goes the course of my spring races.  I don't sign up for summer races because I'm a wimp and don't do heat well. 

I wish I could say I had been vigorously training but work has been insane (they actually cut our pay while everyone else was getting essential worker bonuses).  Go us.  I guess.  And my knee has been wonky and randomly swelling.  Which are just two excuses for me being lazy and unmotivated.  Gotta get back in the saddle.  My run streak is alive and well at over 900 days so I'm running daily, just not enough to prepare for what lies ahead (eventually). 

My first 100 miler was supposed to be Potawatomi.  It has 16000 feet of gain (which just means we get to walk a lot), and about 100 creek crossings (exaggerated...perhaps).  It got cancelled fairly early and rescheduled to next year.  Then my last man standing race got pushed from May 1 to May 30 to now August 1st but I can't imagine it being run with the increase in cases.

So now the schedule looks like:
August 1st...last man standing (maybe)
mid October...Mines of Spain 100.  It's a 20 mile looped course with 14000 feet hills. 
Mid November...KUS 24 hour 

I'm hoping Covid goes away.  I'm hoping my knee gets better.  I'm hoping my mojo returns.  I need a massive goal for July but July is in 2 days and as of yet all I can come up with is seeing if I can consume 2 pounds of chocolate a day. 

Midlife crisis

I haven't checked in here in six years.  Six years.  So what happens to a surrogate that retires in six years?  Well for me, the kids all grew up.  They moved out.  The first six months I swear I just slept and read books.  We took some nice vacations.  We still went to work every day and did normal stuff but I feel like the first six months were truly just recovering from raising kids for over 20 years.  Then the inevitable "what's next" came up.  I recognized the question because I faced it when I retired from surrogacy.  So what was next? 

I have been a jogger (plodder) for years now.  I would jog some and then not do it again for a month and then go for a jog again.  For some unknown reason, on 12/29/2017 I went for a run and decided to do it daily.  Today, 3/10/20, I'm over 800 days into a run streak.  I started and just haven't ever stopped.  Meanwhile my husband had a mini-stroke and we went plant based in our eating (mostly...we cheat some) and he joined me on my run streak, his first day being 3/24/2019. 

After about a year of running daily I decided I wanted to try a race.  Joe and I had been training for a half marathon when he had his mini-stroke but that didn't excite me.  I had done a 5K or two in the past and that didn't excite me either.  So I signed up for a 50 miler.  Because why not?  I did the 50 miler in March of 2019 and loved/hated every minute of it.  I signed up for a 100K that fall, followed 2 weeks later by a 24 hour race.  I loved/hated every minute of those too.  So I signed up for my first 100 miler.  It is in 3 weeks.  More to come on that later. 

I did a tune up run, a 12 hour race last weekend.  It was a blast.  In a stunning turn of events I won my age group (and I wasn't the only one in my age group).  I'm still slow and never will not be slow but I am learning how to hurt I think. 

So that's the update.  I plan to post here for myself, so I can talk about my ultras and training without boring those people in my life I love. 

Retirement

is so much harder to be ok with when all your geriatric friends are embarking on another round of surrogacy. 

But 99% of the time I am ok with it.  It feels right.  It feels like a wonderful, magical thing that I did and will always be proud of. 

Life here is good.  The boys started their junior year of high school  Holy God how did that happen.  Our babies are 16 and juniors. 

I am still at the plant and typing.  Got another raise at the ethanol plant and the hubster got a raise that same week at his job.  Thank heavens because with two teen drivers that are boys we are bleeding money constantly.  Somehow I doubt the college years will be much better even though we have always said that we won't pay for college for them, just help.  My parents didn't pay for college for me and having to pay for it myself made me appreciate it so much more.  All five kids have always known that they have to either get scholarships, work their way through college, or join the military.

Summer here was weird and strange and good...sort of. We took one trip and the hubster got bitten by a tick and got Lyme Disease.  I wrecked my bike and so did Boy #2. 

Boy #2 is going to have knee surgery next week.  Hopefully this will put an end to his knee pain.

So that's it for us here.  Surro kids are all doing well.  The Canadians are revving up for a sibling with a fellow Missouri surrogate.  I'm thrilled for all of them.  The Swede's youngest baby (carried by another surrogate) turned one two days ago.  As the days continue to roll along and as I get further and further from my active surrogacy days, the more I realize how long term surrogacy is and how really wonderful it is.  My surrogate babies are now 7/7/6/6/3 and 1. 

Where ya been?

I'm baaaaaacccccckkkk.

Well not really back.  Still retired from surrogacy.  After all my wishy-washyness, thankfully a doctor advised me not to carry again and that was the end of the wishy-washy.  Or did he?  That's another story that is too long to get in to.  Long story (very, very, very long story) short is that I am done.  I know I've said it before.  I know I'm a complete flake when it comes to this.  But I think for my health and the sake of my family I need to be done.  And I'm ok with that. 

So what's up in my world now that I'm not obsessing about populating the world with babies for gay men?  Lots.  Lots.  And lots.  We have employed kids...we have scuba classes...we have work galore...and we have a prison escape (maybe?) story that is very Shawshank Redemptionish. So buckle up and hang on.

Boy 2 has a job.  An actual, honest to goodness job.  He installs gutters and comes home and tells me these horrible stories about hanging over the edge of roofs, etc., that make me cringe.  He is happy with the job though, makes good money, and has eased the burden on my checkbook.  That's all good, right?  Boy 3 is frothing at the bit to work.  He is watching the whole working = spending money situation evolve with Boy 2 and he is very anxious to turn 16 and have his turn.  Not long now. 

Scuba classes you say?  Yep.  When I finally laid the idea of surrogacy to rest, I decided to start working on the bucket list.  Item one is to learn to scuba dive.  I am exploring class option as we speak.  Item two on the bucket list is to get another motorcycle.  I really miss mine.  We are picking that up on Thursday.  At this rate I may need to add more to the bucket list.  :) 

Work galore...check.  I am averaging 48 hours a week at the plant and then probably 15 to 20 typing.  It's all good since kids are EXPENSIVE but when I get a moment of free time, I really enjoy it. 

Prison escape?  Do tell. 
This story requires no embellishment.  If it wasn't so wrong and stupid and well...bad, it would be funny. 

So in typical Boy 1 fashion, he can't just behave and do what he is supposed to.  Even in prison.  So he was on cell restriction which basically means you can't leave your cell except to shower and eat (what...the cells aren't locked?  Yeah...I didn't know that either).  Anywho, he decides that he has had enough of this whole cell restriction thing and should head to the gym.  I had not heard from him in a while but knew he was on cell restriction and could not call so I was not worried.   A week or so ago, the husband comes home for lunch and there's a orange envelope in the mailbox with URGENT scrawled on it.  Inside is a violation report from inside the prison.  Apparently Boy 1 left his cell and someone told on him.  (Imagine from here on in official prison lingo).  The guard approaches his cell and knocks.  No answer.  Guard enters cell and yells for the boy to get up.  No answer but he can see him lying on the bed.  Guard kicks the bunk.  No answer.  Guard pulls back blankets to find a perfect mannequin made up of clothes.  This thing has a jacket on, shoes, the whole nine yards.  So they go looking for the idiot and he is headed back to the cell from the gym.  Did I mention he's an idiot.  They could charge him with out of bounds or escape.  Even though he was heading back, because of the elaborate dummy, they charged him with escape.  Not sure what the consequences are for that.   This kid/adult...he has me so confused.  We tried literally everything and from age 13 on he would not behave.  Just would not.  In the nature versus nurture argument, he is a quandary.  If it is nature, then why is his full biological brother a straight A student, excellent athlete, and a hard worker?  If it is nurture...um I raised him from birth the exact same as I raised his brother.  So not nature...not nurture...perhaps just born a certain way?  I'm not trying to pass blame off of myself.  I made mistakes and I admit I did.  But who doesn't as a parent?  He was loved and always had everything he needed, though maybe not everything he wanted.  I have never really broken a rule in my life other than a speeding ticket or two.  I don't drink and never have.  I can't imagine ever trying a cigarette, much less drugs.  So where does this kid come from?  And how can I understand him?  At this point I just settle for writing him letters and telling him I love him but he has to change his life if he wants to be a part of ours.  Maybe he will some day. 

And that is about it for the update.  I still hear from the parents of four of the six surrogate kids regularly.  I only hear from the dad of the Boston twins about once a year but that is fine...I always said up front that the degree of relationship is totally up to the parents...these are their families and I am happy to have any level of contact that they will grant me. 
 

Updates

What a crazy life this is.  Just when you think you have something figured out, something else is thrown your way.  I don't even mean that negatively.  I just feel like I can never find a place to just sit and breathe...I am always running to catch up or to at least not get further behind.

This month has seen some changes:

The good:

The boy made first team all conference and first team all district as a sophomore.  He rocks. 

I have finally found a way to make physical exercise and myself a priority in my life.  It requires a 5am wake up call M-F but if that's what it takes, I will do it. 

I got a raise at work...and when I say I got a raise, I mean I got a RAISE.  Like a...holy shit this can't be right, go see HR and tell them my paycheck is wrong and they say no it's not raise. 

Surrogacy might not be 100% off the table for me.

I have 100% weaned, the pump is put away and while I don't have my boobs back yet, I no longer have Dolly Parton's boobs either.

The bad:

Surrogacy might not be 100% off the table for me.

The boy backed into a pole with his truck...800 dollars later.

The boy dropped and broke his phone (this one cost me nothing...he can live with a broken phone...told the punk to put a case on it but oh no...he's too cool for a case). 





So yeah.  Life is pretty good right now.  I ran/walked a 5K this morning to support colorectal cancer support.  Afterwards I tried to go to the new donut shop but it was so busy I turned away. I may not have resisted due to my awesome willpower but the end result is that I still didn't have donut.  Score. 

That's about it.  Until next time. 

Done and donner/doner?

This blog post shall be the tale of two dones: 

Done 1:  I'm done pumping.  I had noticed when my milk would sit in the fridge and settle before bagging it,  it no longer had a thick fat layer on it.  I really thought nothing of it.  Perhaps I should have.  I got a call from the milk bank and they can no longer accept my milk because it doesn't have enough nutrition in it.  So obviously I also don't want to be donating this milk to anyone else either.  I'm glad they told me because some of my donor babies are preemies and they NEED nutrition, not just white water which is basically what my milk has turned into.  Not sure why but there you have it.  So I'm done pumping and other than the usual hormones related to that, I'm feeling great about it.  I can't wait to reclaim my time and my body.


Done 2:  Basketball season is done.  We lost a heartbreaker last night.  On a positive note, the boy was voted first team all conference, the first time that has happened for a sophomore at MHS in a LONG time.  Now to get an MRI of that knee and see what the verdict is. 

That's it for me.  Not much else going on.  Life is good.  The surrobubs are 7,7,5,5,3, and 1.  Holy crap.  That's a lot of surrogate kids. 

To wean or not to wean

I have been pumping for 50 weeks now.  It has positives and negatives:

Positives:

5 times a day I get to read my book while I pump

I get to eat like a crazy person and still not gain weight, in fact my weight has slowly dropped, and I will lose another five pounds of boob weight when I wean

I babysat my exclusively breastfed one week old grandson last night and had no issues because I could breastfeed him.  (Chill out...his mom and I talked about this...I didn't just randomly breastfeed him). 

I donate to two babies and send my leftovers to the PMB so it allows me to continue feeling like I am helping others, my favorite part of surrogacy. 

Negatives:

Ouch

I miss sleeping without a bra

I have a more intimate relationship with my pump than I do with my husband

It takes up those crucial 8 minutes of free time I have each day 



So yeah...I want to stop pumping.  I'm over it.  But when I think of stopping I get an almost panicky sensation.  This is it.  The last link to the fertile years.  I know, I know...get the heck over it already woman.  You are almost 42.  The fertile years are supposed to be over.  GROW UP.  If you stop you can train for a 10K without almost putting an eye out.  You will have free time. 

I feel like I need an intervention.  I wish I could just stop cold turkey but that's probably not going to happen since I pump 6ish times a day and exploding boob syndrome doesn't sound like something I want to explore. 

If someone could please fedex me some willpower it would be much appreciated. 

Were you really expecting me to stay away?

Come on guys...haven't I proven myself to be flaky and unreliable when it comes to stuff like this.  Here are some recent pics which I got permission to share.  These are all of the surrogate babies I have carried other than the Boston twins.  I did just get some handwritten notes from them though (yes...I'm old enough that my first surrogate twins can now write...older means wiser though, right?  Right?)

First up is Ben, the Canadian.  His dads still want a sibling.  They still would like me to carry it.

 

 

 

Next we have Aurora, aka Cletus for those long time readers, aka the ESS for those from SMO.  She is holding Amelie, the baby carried by their new surrogate in Oregon.

 

Next up we have Georg, or Baby A from the infamous ESB twins.  He is also holding Amelie. 

 

Last but not least we have Adrian, Baby B of the ESB twins.  He is the true wildcat of the bunch.  Amelie appears to be a picture hog.  ;)

 

 

As I have said before, surrogacy is not something you do for a few years and then go back to your regular life with no ongoing reminders.  If you are lucky, which I consider myself to be incredibly lucky in this regard, you get ongoing pictures and updates which show you that this brief period in your life has not just been a way to feed your pregnancy obsession, but rather a way to grow families. 

Relief

I had requested my medical records from my last pregnancy and delivery and they have been slowly trickling in.  Today, I got the final batch, which are my delivery records.  Right there, in black and white, it says something to the tune of thinning lower uterine segment and that while pregnancy could be achieved and end normally with a healthy baby, it is not recommended.  I expected to feel upset if I ever saw that.  I expected to feel robbed.  Instead I just feel relieved.  It's really over.  The child bearing years are over.  I know some surrogates would probably go ahead and carry because it doesn't specifically say I can't.  But for me, the risk is not worth it.  I want to see my kids grow up.  I don't want to be a danger to any baby I might be carrying.  It's over.  And that's ok.  I have grown 8 children.  I have made four families, including my own.  I was pregnant seven times and did it with grace (mostly) and serenity (mostly) and really rocked it.  I'm ok to go out on top so to speak.  I don't want to be one of those women who defines herself with pregnancy and can't move on.  I don't want to change my last name to Duggar. 

So that's it.  The blog ends here.  I'm sure no one wants to hear my ongoing updates about my child who plays basketball or my hectic crazy life.  I don't feel comfortable sharing pictures of the surrogate kids as they get older because they are not my children.  I don't feel comfortable sharing updates about my step-kids because they are not mine and it might not be ok with their parents if I shared (so if you've ever wondered why I talk more about one kid than the others...it's because he's the only one I feel like I can really talk about...the others are all super awesome too). 

So finally, after eight years, multiple formats, multiple surrogacy journey's, enough tears and laughter and joy and FAMILIES, it is with a tear in my eye and a smile in my heart that I write


The End. 

Or not?

The verdict on the knee is a tiny tear in the meniscus.  It will not hurt him to play with it that way, it's just if he can tolerate the pain.  He seems to have my pain tolerance (have C-section on Friday, leave hospital on Saturday, drive myself home in manual transmission car, go back to work on Monday) so he has decided to play as long as he can and then get it fixed in the off season.  I agreed to this only because the doctor says it won't do further damage to the knee if he continues to play with it injured.  He has adapted to the pain enough now where he no longer even takes ibuprofen.  I will have to have a talk with him about our weird pain tolerance...while it seems like a blessing and in most ways it is, in some ways it's not good because we don't have pain to warn us off from things in the way that normal people do. 

So that's that.  I took a day off from everything today and had grand plans but as usual, I've done absolutely nothing.  I can't resist the lure of a lazy day at home sometimes. 

Guys are still wanting a sibling.  I am still on the fence.  I got a gorgeous Christmas card from the Swedes.  Not much else going on here.  Basketball is our life right now. 

Fluid under kneecap

The boy has massive knee pain.  We took him to the doc in a box on the day before Thanksgiving because every place else was closed.  They did an xray and found fluid behind his kneecap.  Most likely cause?...torn meniscus, torn cartilage, or torn ACL.  I hate sports.  I hate my kid being hurt.  I hate watching him try to fight through the pain.  We have to see an orthopedist next week.  Praying it is something simple that won't need a surgical fix because he's my baby and never had surgery.  He is crushed because his season is likely over before it even began.  Hate seeing him sad.

What would (fill in the blank) do?

Surrogates need someone to worship so that when we have a surrogate(ish) quandary we can be all like :  What would (xxx) do?  So for the purpose of this blog entry, I will call my surrogate idol Libbigail.  She is the one with all the answers when it comes to surrogacy. 

So let's start over:  What would Libbigail do...

I guess I need a bit of an introduction before I jump right into this.  I'm hopped up on chocolate right now (a whole flipping batch of fudge if you must know).  I blame that on Joe and the kids.  They have all left and I didn't want the fudge to feel left out or abandoned or just unwanted so I was forced to eat it.  All. 

Alone you say?  Hold the phone.  I'm home ALONE.  Hallelujah.  Joe and boy #3 went to the mall.  Boy #2 is enjoying his last few hours of freedom before basketball practice starts next week.  I should be typing but my boss hates me and sent me an affidavit of someone who mumbles.  And has a speech impediment.  So every time I start typing it I have to stop because I'm laughing hysterically which is inappropriate on so many levels because I don't really hate mumblers or those with speech impediments...once again I blame the chocolate which if you go back to paragraph two, is really the fault of Joe and the kids. 

So while avoiding the mumbling speech impediment prone complainant, I checked my e-mail and there was gorgeous pictures of my most recent surrogate spawn and more talk of a sibling project.  Which brings us to: 

What would Libbigail do?

Choices:
1.  Encourage the guys to find a younger, less sliced surrogate (this is obviously the right choice.  I know this is the right choice.  We are going with this choice).

2.  Go get screened because maybe I am the right choice.  (I am not the right choice.  I know I heal well but come on already.  This whole serial pregnancy thing has to stop somewhere.  It's starting to get embarrassing). 

3.  Keep pumping so that 2 is not a choice and 1 becomes the only choice.  This is also a good choice bur really, shouldn't I be adult enough to just say no to my whole "I wanna gestate forever" thing.  Plus have you ever pumped long term?  I've pumped for 8 months now.  Almost 9 months.  Every day.  7 to 8 times a day.  My nipples could have their own zip code.  I have personally donated to five babies and also to a milk bank.  Pumping is good.  But really this must end sometime.

I know what I should do.  I know what is right to do.  But I also am fairly confident that I could carry again because I heal well and my uterus "looks great" according to my OB.  I want what is best for the guys and surely a younger surrogate is better for them.  I know I'm healthy and work out and have great surrogate-friendly insurance but still.  

Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and my uterus will have fallen out.  That would fix the whole issue right there...

You worked what?

77 hours.  In 7 days.  That is the lab and typing.  If this is retirement, then it sucks.  I also pumped over 300 ounces of milk in those same 7 days. 

I really suck at quitting jobs.  I need to work on it.  Until then...I am thrilled to have two hours at the end of this weekend that is truly mine.  I am so burned out and exhausted. 

On a "wahoo" note, basketball practice starts on November the 4th....the same day I have to make a quick trip to Sioux Falls, SD.  Games start November 25th.  Can't wait.  The boys thinks he will start varsity this year.  Fingers crossed. 

And that's it for now.  Gonna use the last bit of my weekend to take a long...ok not so long, hot bath. 

2 weeks in

I am two weeks into my notice at work.  I have four (ish) weeks to go.  I got really mad at them one day and threatened to just leave but I don't really want to go out like that so I am still there, working out my notice, but more on my terms.  Since they wanted a longer leave than I wanted to give, we negotiated part time hours.  I work 6:30 am to 10:30 am and then am home typing in the afternoons.  That lasts for a few more weeks and if they hire someone it ends immediately.  I really hope they hire someone soon.  I saw my job posted in the newspaper and it seemed really weird but still right.  I think their biggest problem finding a replacement is that they don't want to pay for what they want.  I imagine they will end up hiring another assistant and not a tech like I was. 

On another note, I found insurance that will cover me for pregnancy...with no surrogacy exclusion.  Not that I'm getting pregnant...because I'm not...but just in case. 

The Swedes are headed this way for one final visit before they fly home.  We have had several long meals with them and have really enjoyed their visit.  They are wonderful, the family is wonderful, and every time I see this family I helped create I get this warm glow.  Surrogacy is awesome.  :)

Will post pictures later of the Swedes. The kids are adorable and the dads are tired but great. 

I actually did it

Anyone who has read here for awhile can tell you that the one word that truly describes me when making major decisions is FLAKE.  Yes I'm a flake.  I admit it.  I will make up my mind and then start thinking of the cons instead of the pros and go around and around in circles for MONTHS or even worse, YEARS.  The hubster, understandably, has had enough of this.  He basically told me to shit or get off the pot when it comes to these major decisions.  So, in his eloquent phrasing, I shit.  I started making major decisions like I was slashing vegetation in the jungle.  It was an exciting and scary.  When the dust settled this is what we had left:

1.  I gave my notice for my lab job.  My last day is November 1st.  That will get them through my co-workers long ass vacation but not her two hand surgeries.  I feel like somewhat of an ass for that but I had to just draw a line because every time I would have a tentative date in my head, they would have something else come up. The bottom line is that my coworker is not reliable.  Her job is not a priority to her and she will admit that.  She is gone A LOT and if I were to try to find a date to leave that does not coincide with her having a medical procedure or a vacation or a life crisis, then that date would be years from now or more likely never.  The final straw came when I realized that between now and the end of the year she was going to be gone three significant chunks of time and that I was still expected to go to South Dakota for training, with a complete stranger.  Enough.  Notice is in.  No turning back now.  I am relieved. 

2.  By making choice one final, I have made choice two.  My surrogacy days are over.  I have bought high deductible (10000 individual/20000 family) health insurance that does not cover maternity.  I am ok with this too. 

So there you have it.  In six short weeks I will be at home, working only one job (and pumping) instead of working two (and pumping).  I seriously cannot wait.  My house has been neglected for 21 months while  I worked two jobs...and 16 of those 21 months I have either been pregnant or pumping.  I am EXHAUSTED.  And if it doesn't work out, it will be fine.  I have a four year degree in Chemistry with minors in Biology and Psychology.  I graduated summa cum laude with straight A's.  I did all of this with five kids at home, later in life.  I have six years of lab experience, working with HPLC, IC, NIR and ethanol technology.  I can get another job.  I am hoping I can work from home for a few years, to spend the last years with the boys until they graduate but I am flexible and if I need to work elsewhere I will.  I realize I will probably have to start over again in terms of salary but I'm ok with that.  It will all work out.  I feel decided and that is so nice after months or years of indecisiveness.  I am looking forward to working out more, spending more time with my children and grandchildren, and getting more sleep.  I will continue to pump for a few more months, until it feels right to stop that. 

I am not sure the hubster believes me...I think he thinks I will change my mind.  I can totally understand why he would feel that way, given my prior flakiness on the subject.  But as I sit here, it just feels right.  It is time.  Change is good and I'm excited and happy to find out what this next chapter of my life will bring. 

It's been a month.

A month since I clicked on this blog and checked things out.  There was a time when surrogacy consumed my life but now it seems to only occupy a tiny corner.  That seems weird to me after so long of having it be the focus.

The Swedes had their baby, a little girl named Amelie and they will be here in MO in the next week or so.  We are still very much looking forward to seeing them.  I'm not sure what adventures they have planned for their time here but I know that this is their great American adventure for the boys so they will surely take quite a few day trips.  The new baby apparently is a great sleeper for them and doing really well.  They seem busy but really happy. 

On the homefront for me we have several developments.  I turned in my notice for my lab job.  It is a huge step and no turning back now.  I gave them a long notice and will work through my coworkers upcoming cruise and a surgery she has planned but by the 1st week of November, I will be home, just typing and who knows what else.  It feels scary but right.  It was time.  To prepare for that we are frantically paying off a few small bills and stocking up the pantry and the deep freeze.  I am excited and scared and can't wait. 

One of the main reasons that I wanted to find more time in my life was so that I could resume exercising.  I don't in any way think I am fat but I want to be toned again.  I miss exercise.  The hubster and I have started running again but I can't wait to not work 12 hours a day so that I can have the time to really exercise. 

I requested and received my medical records from my last pregnancy in the mail the other day.  I put them in my file "just in case".  I always keep a copy of all of our medical records because you just never know when you might need that information...you know like if you were going to do a fifth surrogacy or something crazy like that.  ;0) 

Not that I will be doing a surrogacy any time soon, if ever, because I am STILL pumping.  Still.  Seven months later.  I must be crazy.  Amelie will be getting some of my breast milk when the Swedes are here.  What can I say, I'm a firm believer in the importance of breast milk if it is possible for a baby to receive it. 

The boys are enmeshed in their sophomore year of high school if you can believe that.  Where does the time go? 

And that's our life right now.  Hubster got his inspection license and so is no longer the low man on the totem pole at work.  We are scheduled to run/walk a 5K in October.  Those are the only tidbits of info I can think of right now. 

I'm off to get ready for another week at work.  Not long and Sunday's will be just like every other day.  The biggest issue so far is finding health insurance that we can afford but I am exploring our options.  Hubster's job no longer offers health insurance so we will have to buy a private policy for the four of us.  It's hard to get quotes right now because no one knows what Obamacare will do to rates.  Fingers crossed it is not too horribly expensive, but I really expect it to be. 

I will try to check in more often though as you can see, life is pretty sedate around here right now. 

The Swedes are here

In the U.S. that is.  They are in Oregon, awaiting the arrival of their fourth baby.  I am so thrilled for them.  I really was hoping it would be a vaginal delivery since they never got to experience that with me but their surrogate is scheduled for a C-section.  They will be here in 7 weeks.  I have been weaning down from my pumping but want to make sure I keep a bit of the supply for the new baby for the two weeks that she will be here.  I CANNOT wait to get my hands on her and the other three kids and to hug the guys.  It has been entirely too long since we've seen them. 

A month?

Has it really been a month since I last posted? Seriously, where does the time go?  This is crazy.  It's like time is just running away from me.  It's been a BUSY month.  We went on vacation, worked a ton, pumped a ton, worked some more and put a basketball court in the back yard. 

SAY WHAT?

So we desperately need a roof and we borrowed the money to get a roof...and used to money to build a deck and a half court in the back yard.  How's that for a responsible, adult decision?  But you know what...we don't regret it for a minute.  The roof will last another year and until then we have this awesome deck and basketball court.  Responsible adult decisions are for the birds.  :)

The hubster and I are stealing away next month for a romantic getaway.  We are staying at the historic Hotel Frederick in Boonville, a wonderful bed and breakfast, and we will walk on the Katy trail and eat good food and relax.  The next day we are scheduled for a tour of the farm where they keep the Budweiser Clydesdales.  Can't wait. 

The hooligans return to school in 3 weeks.  How crazy is that.  Guess I better get busy on that whole school supply and back to school clothes list, huh?  Boy #3 grew about two inches this summer so he will need new pants and shirts.  Boy #2 grew 2 inches and gained 35 pounds.  In one summer.  He went from a 30x32 to a 34x34 in pants.  Egads.  He needs new everything. 

After a two week break from basketball we start back up this weekend with the Show-Me State Games.  I am not honestly thinking the team will be very good this year but you never know.  It's fun to watch them play regardless but they get so upset when the lose, I hope it's not a season full of losses.  Guess time will tell. 

On a "you are such a flake" note, I am still pumping.  STILL.  Really, Susan?  Stop already.  I am slowing it down.  Way down.  Some days I want to quit but I love the fact that the pumping completely keeps me from wanting to get pregnant.  Can I pump until menopause? 

And that is it.  Work is good.  Kids are good.  Life is good.  Can't ask for more than that.