I am a working single mom with a preschooler who needs to pack a lunch every day, and on top of that it has to be dairy, egg, peanut, rice, oat and soy free.  (SEE why I wasn’t excited??)

I soared through my first week ease, and had so much fun. Maybe the holiday week made it a little easier.

DAY ONE

Ham rolls ups, baby dill pickles, mini ritz crackers, steamed (cold) broccoli, strawberries and 2 cookies.
I didn’t know how much food he’d eat but I figured I’d rather over pack my first box, than under pack it.
there were FIVE crackers left! I was shocked and very happy.
(I bought this corn box at a local Asian market, I did find it on Ebay also. So you can do some searching around if you MUST have it.)

DAY TWO

Sunbutter Football sandwiches, fritos, baby carrots, pitted cherries and mini oreos.
I had a MUCH better idea for today’s lunch but he snuck out of his room and “caught me” making it. He called all the shots from that point. So EVERYTHING was his idea. Even the box with the chopsticks. When I picked him up from lunch he scolded me for not packin”g meaties” so he could use his chopsticks.
I know better for next time.

DAY THREE

Tortilla, ham and mustard “sushi,” (with little ham flowers on top), Garden grape tomatoes, baby dill pickles, steamed broccoli, popcorn, grapes, fruit leather cut into carrots (because he thought that was funny) and 1 little tiny cookie.

DAY FOUR

Sunbutter and Strawberry Jam sandwich (with sprinkles), Pretzels under the sandwich, strawberry hearts and red cereal. This lunch is VERY sugar heavy and NOT typical. But he’s snack today was all veggies, and my mom is spending the afternoon with him so I don’t have to deal with the sugar rush.

Usually he has an early day on Friday and only needs a snack. So I plan on making Friday’s “Scrap Snack Fridays.” Because there are typically scraps left when I make his food in fun shapes. But the dogs were really into my new lunch making routine and happily gobbled them all up. And this week he has a normal full day so we scrolled through some lunch ideas together and he chose this one by himself.

This week was so much fun and he ate almost everything! He told me everyday how fun his lunch was and THAT is why I did this.

I can’t wait till next week.

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Surrogacy kind of has a bad name in Utah. Maybe not a bad name, but it’s so foreign that people are immediately scared of something they don’t understand.

My journey was FILLED (to the brim) with love and support from my neighbors and friends. But some of my best surrogate friends have received exactly the opposite.

You see, our church (The Church of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints) (or Mormons) doesn’t have a very clear stance on surrogacy. It’s official stance is only that “Surrogacy is discouraged.”

3 little words are all we get from the men we look toward for guidance.

In the past 2 years on this journey I have come to realize that Surrogacy, in the traditional sense, in discourage. Traditional Surrogacy involves the Surrogate using her own egg, and being artificial inseminated with the biological father’s sperm.  Luckily for us, Traditional Surrogacy is also illegal in Utah.

I am a Gestational Carrier. Meaning NONE of the physical DNA comes from me. It either all comes from the parents or one source can come from a donor.

So while we use the term “surrogate,” We really aren’t!

(A true surrogate was someone like Mary. Kind of ironic that a church developed around the outcome of that surrogate journey looks down on surrogacy, right?)

I have been lamenting nonstop on ways to make Surrogacy (GC) more mainstream in Utah. To gain some love and acceptance for those facing nothing but opposition from those who don’t understand.

Isnt it human nature to be scared of something you don’t understand?

When I had the opportunity to sit down with a reporter from the Deseret News, I knew without a doubt that I wanted the chance. But because of confidentiality agreements, I knew the article couldn’t be about the baby and the family I just helped. I needed another angle.

I needed Jen.

2 best friends, 2 surrogates, Both underwent IVF on the same day, Both pregnant with boys, Both babies of the same (non-American) nationality, Delivering 2 weeks apart, Both Mormon.

I knew the story needed to be about us, and about how NORMAL we are and how NORMAL surrogacy just fit into our (Mormon) lives.

The interview was HARD. We wanted to share so much more than we were contractually allowed to share. We thought about every word out of our mouths so it sounded right. We communicated with just looks when we didn’t know how to answer a question the “right” way. All the while, I thought of every possible way that the author could twist and contort our words into something we DIDN’T mean. It was a stressful evening, for me. I worried about how much would be shared about the babies and families we helped. I worried if the article would have and overall positive attitude. (We shared a lot of our sad times and a lot of our happy times. She could have chosen just one side to show.)

When she emailed me to say her editor was requiring the country that my IP’s were from, I made up a country and hoped they would understand.

Then we she announced she needed to take our picture, we both looked down at our  3 month post partum bellies and groaned.

But weeks later, the article is published and I couldn’t be more proud.

Thank You Cathy. You delivered EXACTLY the message I wanted to share.

We are NORMAL people. We are moms. We are friends. We are just offering help where we can.

Two women, nine months and the gift of family

By Cathy Free , Deseret News

Published: Wednesday, July 11 2012 12:16 p.m. MDT

Ryley Eaton, left, and her friend, Jen Holt, became surrogate mothers to “pass along the joy of becoming a family,” says Eaton. (Cathy Free)

MURRAY — The tears came late at night when the hospital room was quiet and she was alone for the first time in months.

There were tears of happiness for the couple who were finally cuddling a baby of their own, the boy she had given birth to just a few hours before. And there were also tears of sadness — not because she regretted her decision to become a surrogate mother, but because one of the most wonderful experiences of her life was over.

“When you’ve been the focus of somebody’s life for nine months and that suddenly ends, it hits you hard and it hurts,” says Ryley Eaton. “The couple whose child you carried has lived and breathed you for months — your life and well-being has been their entire focus. But once the baby is here, that all ends. Before you can blink, the journey is over.”

Eaton, 29, was relieved to find a small support network of women who have also made the emotional journey as surrogate mothers, or, as they’re legally known in Utah, “gestation carriers.” Once a month, about 20 members of Utah Surrogates gather at a restaurant or park to share tales of what it’s like to give the gift of family to couples unable to conceive on their own.

“Our conversations definitely raise a few eyebrows in restaurants,” admits Eaton, who wanted to meet for a Free Lunch of chili verde burritos at Restaurant Morelia in Murray with Jen Holt, another surrogate who has become a good friend. “There are so many misconceptions about what we do that it’s nice to have somebody to talk to who understands.”

The emotional highs and lows of surrogacy are worth it, says Holt, 32, to pass along the same joys she has experienced while raising her four children, ages 3 to 13.

“To see the look on (a couple’s) faces when their baby is handed to them and they become parents after so many years of heartache — nothing can compare to that,” she says. “It’s a life-changing moment.”

A volunteer photographer for “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep,” a charity that provides keepsake photos of infants who were stillborn or died shortly after birth, Holt appreciated seeing a happy outcome for the parents whose child she carried after in vitro fertilization.

“I saw an aunt struggle with infertility for years, so this is something I’ve always thought about doing,” she says. “After I was done having kids, I decided, ‘Why not go through another pregnancy — this time for somebody else?’ ”

After meeting with an attorney who specializes in reproductive law, Holt was put in touch with a local couple and became pregnant through IVF a few months later, at about the same time as Eaton, who had agreed to carry a child for an infertile couple from China.

As the mother of a 3-year-old son, “I love every aspect of service,” says Eaton, “but I don’t have a lot of money and I’m not handy with a saw. However, I love being pregnant and I do have a uterus that works. This is something I could do that would make a lasting difference in another family’s life.”

Although their spouses were supportive of their desire to become surrogates, Eaton and Holt became accustomed to shocked reactions from people wondering how they could “give away” the babies they were carrying.

“It’s hard to explain,” says Eaton, “but from the very beginning, I knew that he wasn’t mine, so I wasn’t as attached. Once he was born, he felt more like a nephew or the child of a close friend.”

Today, she and Holt carry photos of the boys they delivered and they hope to fill up several photo albums in the years to come.

“They’re not required to keep in touch with us, but we’re each lucky in that we’ve developed a lasting connection,” says Eaton, who plans to go through IVF again so that the boy she brought into the world can have a sibling. “We’re in their photo albums, too. Playing a part in giving them a family has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.”

Have a story? Let’s hear it over lunch. Email your name, phone number and what you’d like to talk about to freelunch@desnews.com

Cathy Free has written her “Free Lunch” column since 1999, believing that everyone has a story worth telling. A longtime Western correspondent for People Magazine, she has also worked as a contributing editor for Reader’s Digest.

Copyright 2012, Deseret News Publishing Company

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I’m a talker.
If you come within listening distance of me, there is a good chance you will know more than you ever wanted to know about my life in a VERY short time.
BUT.. I’m also a complainer.

I learned a few years ago that if I don’t tell people what’s going on, it doesn’t give me an outlet to complain and thus, makes me deal with the situation better.

I didn’t tell ANYONE I was pregnant with Miles until almost 20 weeks. I didn’t tell anyone about my divorce for almost 4 months. And this time I haven’t told many people about my journey to reclaim my body before I start on my 2^nd surrogacy journey.

Because doesn’t it always kinda suck to lose weight? And get healthier?? I know I’d WAY rather be a couch potato and eat whatever I want. (Today that would be a big huge bacon cheeseburger with a side of cheese enchiladas.)

I’m a month and a week into this journey. I HAVE TO get healthier before getting pregnant again (in 2 short months). I HAVE TO stay healthier this next pregnancy.

So it’s been 15 weeks since the day I got home from the hospital. I am officially down 28 pounds. (But down 15 in the month I have been ACTIVELY trying to get healthier.

I feel amazing. 15 pounds isn’t that much. But it’s made a huge difference to me. I put on a pair of jeans 4 digits smaller. Just returned 5 new shirts I bought so I could get a smaller size.

I have about 2 full months left before we are on to Surrogacy round 2! Nothing like losing a bunch of weight just to get pregnant again!
So now that you know.. don’t let me complain! :)

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I sat in Sunday school today.

Honestly, one of my least favorite places to be. The chairs are hard, it’s always cold. I’m uncomfortable physically.
I am NOT a scripture scholar. There isn’t one scripture story I can have an intelligent conversation with you on.
The teacher of the week says “Everyone knows this story, right?”
I roll my eyes… Even though I’ve made a deal with my self to stop doing that at church.

My scripture app is open on my phone as a read through our lesson of the day.
My neighbor thumbs through her book and I think about how much easier it is for me. On this phone. (plus, I can sneak in a little facebook time when things get boring.)

We stop to discuss a passage..
“Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us…”
I chuckle silently thinking about the irony of being on that brink.

I drag my finger down the screen and highlight it so I can remember it for later.
I see out of the corner of my eye that she marks the same passage in her book and starts writing next to it. I don’t know what she’s writing but I know how personal this passage is to her struggles.

That lightbulb turns on.

One day, her children will have her book of scriptures. At some point in their lives they’ll come upon that passage. Perhaps at a time they’re feeling like turning back. And they’ll see her words. Mine? They’ll be highlighted in something called an iPhone. Something that may not exsist in 30 years when my son needs to read my thoughts.

So today, I renew my vow to stop rolling my eyes in church, but also make the conscience decision to bring the physical books of scriptures with me every Sunday.

If only for the reason that my words might comfort my son in his time of need the way they comfort me now.

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A cooler packed for a picnic was my co captain.
Miles was snoring in the back seat and I played eenie meenie minie mo with the canyons.

It’s been a rough week for the two of us
(let’s be honest, it’s been a rough month, YEAR. Spotted with highlights but still, ROUGH.)

We just needed to get away. I realized as I hoped on the freeway how lucky we ate that we have SO much to choose from here. At the prompting of a friend I reached for my phone and turned it OFF.
I can count on one hand the amount of times my phone has physically been turned off. (don’t worry, I lived to tell the tale.)
Icurved into the canyon, and maybe said a little (tiny) swear word as I noticed I was behind a dirty dump truck that already had its flashers on. I looked to the left and to the right trying desperately to find a way to pass him. When something said as clear as day, “Just enjoy it.”

So I did.
20 miles up Big Cotton Wood Canyon. Only reaching 25mph ONCE. On a hill. He offered to let me pass 5 times. I didn’t. I saw a family of deer. Rushing streams. Cute little water falls. Trees. Sky. I just enjoyed it. Until we both turned off the road in opposite directions at the same time.

I spent the next 3 hours pushing a 30 pound toddler, in a stroller, around Silver Lake TWO AND A HALF TIMES. (in inappropriate footwear.) We stopped to play, feed the squirrels and we narrowly escaped being eaten by a family of ducks.
(I’m slightly (A LOT) afraid of living poultry. Not all birds. Just the ones people routinely eat. Chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, and recently discovered Quails. See? Just poultry.)
We ate our lunch on a log by the lake. (I packed a salad for myself and no fork. That was fun.) We fed most of our pretzels to the squirrels. We ran over and under and around fallen trees. We had a blast.

I don’t think he even noticed I wasn’t on my phone. I’m sure he didn’t. (because I kept shoving it in his face for pictures. (it was on airplane mode at that time.))

But I noticed.
We didn’t fight, we didn’t argue.

We just enjoyed it.

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I hate talking about this kind of stuff.
I don’t want to scare people away from surrogacy, or see those pity eyes that silently say “I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle this.”
Oh and please don’t treat me like that girl that is always emotional about it.
I promise you, I’m fine. I just want to share. Stick with me.

There are transitions you face in this process.
I KNOW they are there, I’ve seen close friends go through them.
Knowing they are coming doesn’t make them easier.
Today I entered the next one.
it’s been hard.

Every 2 days for 10 weeks Ive met up with my new family to hand over milk for my little buddy.
I was SO happy that they wanted me to provide milk for him and SO happy my body cooperated.

But the time is coming to an end. He’s slowly being transitioned to formula and I’m in milk freezing mode so he can continue on his Auntie Ryley’s milk for at least another month part time.

This officially the longest I’ve gone without seeing someone in the family, IN MONTHS!

All the sudden my subconscious is screaming “HE DOESN’T NEED YOU ANYMORE.”
And my spirit is crushed.

As much as I know that isn’t true, it’s just another transition.
When I’m done pumping for him, my “job” will be officially over.

It’s a tough pill to swallow.
its just one more step in this journey.
One I know I can take with confidence, and one I know I look back on and laugh.

But now….. it’s a hard step to take.

Right foot out of this journey and left foot into the next..

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I don’t hear him round the landing, like always.

“I just…… I just don’t love her anymore.” The words steal the oxygen out of my lungs and suck it down the stairs, searching for him.

*His brother must still be up. *
*HE’S HAVING THIS CONVERSATION WITH HIS BROTHER??*
*SHIT.. What am I going to do now?*
*This is all I know.*
*What about our house, our dog, our cars?*

It was one of those ‘life flashing before your eyes’ moments.
This is real now, isn’t it?

**************************************************************

It started when I looked to my left and saw the man that held my whole heart sitting across the isle.
Our last names both start with F.
So as we sit alphabetically in our caps and gowns, he sits directly across from me.
All anyone else can think of is FREEDOM.
All I can think of is running to him.
There is an aerial view of the caps being thrown in the air, somewhere out there. There is 1 white gown in the sea of maroon.
That was me. With him. Where I belonged.

*************************************************************

I turned 18 with him.
Then 19, 20, 21…. All the way to 24.
Between 2000 and 2006 we experienced a lifetime.
More jobs between us than I can even count.
Sicknesses, surgeries, hospitalizations.
Long distance dating.
Parenthood, as we raised a puppy from birth together.
We sat on the end of our bed at 7am as we watched 9/11 unfold.
That morning in shock would ultimately lead to his future career. Who knew.
Our first house.
Cars we loved. (the truck) Cars we (I) hated. (the station wagon)
Jobs. Jobs. More jobs.
College.
Quitting college.
A HOUSE!
Furniture.
Temporary job transfer overseas.
infidelity. (from both of us. Surprise!)
Strange hobbies.
6 years of a lifetime.

******************************************************

I just need out of where I’m living right now.
We haven’t been separated long, he’s working late. I just want to go “home.”
I’ll just got there for the night, while he’s working.
The light turns green.
My mind is (honestly) a million miles away.
I blink and suddenly see a tire in front of my window.
Is that a tire?
I’m slammed to a stop.
I don’t know why but I look up.
The traffic light above me is green.
“they ran a red light!!” I shout out. There isn’t anyone to hear me.
The car fills up with smoke.
I test out my legs, my feet, my arms.
I’m ok I think, but I’ve gotta get out of here.
I stumble, feeling drunk, into the middle of a BUSY intersection.
I see a middle aged man stands by the edge of the overpass, watching the freeway traffic flow below him. A glowing cigarette hangs out of his mouth, his phone pressed to his ear. He looks at me, “bitch.”
Everything is coming at flashes around me. I’m turning in circles. I’m really not ok.
Someone grabs me, “the ambulance is on its way. Can we call someone for you?”
“um.. My uh… Boyfriend. I think he’s still my boyfriend. Can you call him? He’s at work. I need him. ”
I blink again and he’s there as I sit trying to focus and answer questions for the paramedics.
I don’t hear their questions but my mind thinks “maybe this is it. Maybe he’ll realize he almost really lost me. Maybe this will turn out to be a good thing. Maybe he’ll realize he can’t live without me.”
“So, uh… I guess you probably want to stay at my house tonight?” He asks and I can hear him hoping I’ll say no and let him take me back to where I’m staying.
“If I can, please.” I ignore the tone of his question because there is nowhere else I can be right now.
I stand and look at the burns on my face, the cuts, the scrapes, the marks that will turn to bruises.  He makes me a bed on the couch.
I guess this wasn’t “IT.”
My bruised, broken body sunk into the familiar cushions that we so often sunk into together.
I laughed just a little,  too much hurt, as I watched my tears roll easily off the fabric protected microfiber. Remembering he was the one that wanted to pay extra for that.
Blocks away they swept up my broken heart alongside the pieces of my broken car.

**********************************************************

I slid my wedding ring back on to my finger and took a deep breath.
I can do this, just one night.
It’s too soon and too much to tell them right now. I can pretend for a night.
After dinner, he pulls me aside.
“Something’s wrong, I know something’s wrong. What is it?
DEEP BREATH….. “He left. Asked for a divorce.”
Without saying a word he hugs me in that way that held me for 6 years.
6 years later the hug feels the same. Comforting.
“Come to dinner. Please come to our house for dinner one night soon. My wife and I would love to have you over. Please?”
“Of course, I would love that.”

*************************************************************

I became an adult with him.
Because of him?
I was a young girl graduating high school too early, before he came into my life.
When he left i was a home owner, a car owner, a pet owner, a woman.
Because of him, with him, I had come so far.
In the best way, he reminds me of that constantly.

This is a series I will be writing on each of the things outlined in the 30 by 30 list originally posted in Glamor magazine. And posted about (by me) here. They wont be in order. Probably.
Read them all here.

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This post means so much to me. Caught somewhere between two places that I didn’t (maybe even, don’t) know exist.

That fine balance between being family, or being a business transaction. Wanting more. And “what happens now.”

“I think it’s a pretty common surrogate feeling to want to know what the intended parents want from your relationship.
But as I try so desperately to put my feet in their shoes, I wonder; “Would I even know what I want?”
It’s a strange, crazy relationship.
I don’t know that I’ve ever stopped to ponder what kind of relationship I want to have with someone who will carry and ultimately birth my child.”

I am A Surrogate Mother.

The post Join me today.. appeared first on That's My Family!.

I know EVERYTHING about him.
EVERYTHING.
He told me the story of his lost virginity. It took my breath away because it was so unexpected and not at all loving.
I went to the mall to see who she was. I still remember the movie they were watching.
I knew every story of his childhood that meant anything to him.
His parents. They were something else. My parents had a few run in’s with them.
We watched “My Best Friends Wedding” together. A lot.
We made the cheesy promise that every male female best friend couple made in 1997.
I closed my eyes tight and wished for 2013. When we’d both be 30 and single.

The night had lead us, alone, up to this rock that we both loved.
The brown fake fur blanket was warm against our bodies as the sensation of the cold rock chilled our backs.

I don’t remember a single word of our conversation. My mind was a million miles away. Or frankly, inches away. With him.

I moved my hand under the blanket onto his stomach.
The literal sparks that flew from the blanket echoed the sparks in my heart.

He leaned up resting on one elbow and asked “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”
I felt my lips tightening, my head falling back and I couldn’t hold back the laughter.
“Probably slap you,” I laughed.
WHOA.
Where did that come from?
Everything I always knew that I never really wanted with him was right in front of me, but…
“I cant lose my bestfriend. I don’t know what I’d do with out you. I cant risk that.” Was what I said instead.
“You’re right…” he mumbled as he sighed back onto the hard rock.
The stars still danced as my mind raced with WHATDIDYOUJUSTDO’s.
I was right.. right?

The conversation resume to “normal” as quickly as it had veered off that track.

It was late.
“We should get home.”
“Probably.”

I will never forget the moment we drove down the winding canyon road when another car pulled behind us honking.
Then pulled beside us.
He knew her.
I didn’t.
WE didn’t end there.
But they began there.

6 years later my phone would ring while I was in the baking section at a WalMart in California
6 years later his voice would be shaky on the other end of the phone.
6 years later he would cry as he told me she was pregnant and he was going to marry her.
And could I come back for the wedding . Please.

6 years later my dreams of 1997 would be shattered.
But I’d still have my best friend.

********************************************************************

This is the first installment of a series I will be writing on each of the things outlined in the 30 by 30 list originally posted in Glamor magazine. And posted about (by me) here. They wont be in order. Probably. Except for the first two.

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Lately, any moment of silence leads my thoughts to the same place.

I REALLY DID THIS.
I had another woman’s egg placed in my body.
I carried a baby that wasn’t mine.
I gave birth to someone else’s baby.
I handed them their baby and went home alone.
I REALLY DID THIS.

If you find me staring into space and can’t shake me out of my thoughts, that’s where I am.

I keep meaning to ask my other surrogate friends if they get stuck in these moments too.

I’ve said before that the whole things feels like a dream, and that still hasn’t changed. I can’t believe it actually happened.

I have that whole feeling of the world spinning around me while I’m standing still.

While I was pregnant, people would arbitrarily ask when I was due. It was my outlet to talk about being a surrogate and make surrogacy more mainstream. I loved that part.

Now 6 weeks postpartum no one has any clue what I just went through and did. (That sounds as if it has a negative connotation.. it doesn’t, I promise.) I see a newborn and ask one of the parents how old they are, when they say 6 weeks I want to shout “I HAD A BABY 6 WEEKS AGO, TOO.” But I don’t. I just smile.

One of my best surrogate friends was commenting, as we both inhaled bites of  froyo, how there are pregnant women and newborns EVERYWHERE. How the two of us were JUST pregnant, but no one knows that. In turn, I lamented how great I feel and feel like I look after just 6 weeks, but when you’re not carrying a baby no one comments how great you look for just being 6 weeks postpartum. No one has any idea.

Do you think a forehead tattoo is too radical?

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