My surrogacy journey: a waiting game (Anonymous)
***The author of this blog has asked to remain anonymous***
Today has been day 2 of waiting. Waiting to see what happens with my body & the one implanted. The blood still flows but I don’t yet have a conclusive answer about the precious cargo’s future. Fed up of being alone, resting, I need to be with nature.
I walk accompanied by a sweet & loving dog. I suspect he knows I need caring for, supporting, just company. I can still smile, he helps with this. We walk, him passively but comfortingly beside me. He looks up at me every so often, peacefully, reassuringly, faithfully. I am aware of our surroundings. The season is changing & nature reflects this. Not so much green, a combination of dying elderberries alongside bright, healthy rosehips, shining in the sun.
My mind is racing, trying to gain comfort from the countryside. I do. So much reflects my current situation. I look at the bare fields, full of life not long ago. They look barren, lifeless, stretching over the horizon. Yet another has green shoots, signs of life. The soil is waiting, waiting for the next implantation of life. It is merely a change of season, not the end, a transition, just as nature allows it. The hope of a future of another thriving, blooming crop.
We walk & walk, only passing one other lady & 2 dogs. The busyness of the hospital, the existing & the future is our backdrop one way.
I recall the last time I walked one of these tracks; it was years ago. I was 17 years old, a student nursery nurse, I had held a young child as he took his last breaths in my arms that afternoon. An honour, a privilege. That evening, our youth group came to this place to play the boys silly cherished manhunt games. As we walked back then, I safely debriefed the events of the day to my dear youth leader friend, my confidant, my father figure.
My previous bereavements which lingered all too long, repressed, taught me I need to grieve sooner. That night was healing, cathartic, life changing. I look & think so much today. Aware of the contrasts of the scenery & relate them to life. My life. Now.
If this is the change of a season, there is still hope, a future. I’m not in control, but my long held yet erratic faith is there for me, reassuring me. I will get through this, whatever this is. I am blessed to not be alone.
I am relieved I was discreet so far, not sharing the news with too many others yet. I can’t take too much caring information seeking. It’s not just about me. There’s plenty of time to hopefully reveal exciting information, either soon or a little later when things are stable.
I notice tiny flowers on the ground, some fully blooming, some in the process of unfurling. Delicate yet eyecatching, contrasting against the green grass & thorns.
Because this is life; where strong, disliked nature exists alongside dainty, beautiful creation. Yet all is vulnerable. Nothing is invincible. Yet the process of life & death goes on & on.