Photo courtesy of DeAnna Scott
I know a woman. She is older than me, but not by too much. She is smart (a teacher). She is entertaining, loving, and kind with a gorgeous head of purple hair. She is my children’s grandmother – the only grandmother they have related to them by blood. But she is not my mother nor is she my husband’s mother.
She is our surrogate’s mother and I don’t know if she realizes how awesome we think she is and how grateful we are that she is our children’s grandmother.
Two years ago when we first met with our surrogate we all agreed that we wanted to remain a part of each other’s lives after the baby (ies) were born. I couldn’t fathom my children not knowing their birth mother; after all she would be genetically related to them. I envisioned my children growing up with full knowledge of their birth story. I wanted them to know they were half Jewish, that their birth mother’s wife is the love of her life and that their son would be a half-brother. I even went so far as romanticize our extended family – celebrating holidays, birthdays and such with grandparents, aunts and uncles on all sides of our families joining in.
Unfortunately, I seem to always think of things in black and white completely forgetting that what our surrogate was doing would have a profound impact on her family. Her family didn’t know who we were, what we were about, why we were doing what we were doing, and what we would do when the babies were born. All they knew was that we were two strangers who had an arrangement with their daughter; that she would give birth to a baby (ies) conceived from her eggs and she would then give that baby to us. Surrogacy is not such a strange or unusual concept, until for some, it becomes personal.
I learned it wasn’t easy for them. I understood. The last thing I wanted to do was to put pressure on them because I had this perfect world scenario playing in my head. I wanted them to know that we weren’t going anywhere and we wanted them in our babies lives but only as much as they wanted to be. And if they didn’t want to be then that was perfectly ok, I would only speak fondly of them to my children when they were old enough to start asking the hard questions. I also wanted them to know that these babies were prayed for long before our surrogacy arrangement was finalized; that our home was a home grounded on a foundation of love, mutual respect and family.
These babies would be loved as much as any child can be loved, and I venture to say even more. That is who we are and what we are about.
And then when our twins (as we learned we were going to have) were 15 weeks in utero, we were devastated to learn our dear mother, my husband’s mother, Alice, had unexpectedly died. Now our children would know no grandmother. It left a huge hole in our hearts.
Many months later I received an excited phone call from my surrogate. She had just returned from a trip with her parents and siblings. She couldn’t wait to share with me that upon learning of Alice’s death her mother proclaimed that she couldn’t possibly allow these babies to grow up without a grandmother. She would step in and take on that role! My heart caught in my throat and I cried. I was elated that my children would be able to call this woman “Grandma,” and honored that she was in a sense welcoming not only our children, but my husband and myself into her family. It seems my romanticizing wasn’t so far off track after all.
The day our babies were born, our surrogate’s parents were there to visit. I was overwhelmed with emotion as I watched my surrogate’s parents gingerly hold my two babies – now, their grandchildren. They cooed and kissed the babies; the transition from being the mother/father of our surrogate to being the babies’ grandparents was seamless. Since then we have had many visits with Grandma and Zayde (Yiddish for Grandfather).
Grandma brought them books for Christmas, which she enjoys reading to them. It is adorable to see them so enthralled with her narratives – she does them so well. When they get fussy she sings songs such as “Head Shoulders Knees and Toes” and “Open and Shut,” she makes them giggle and they let out full belly laughs. And she knows what it is like to deal with Phoebe’s copious amounts of spit up, her daughter (our surrogate) did the same.
After each visit, I replay our time in my head. I hug my children and feel this warmth in my heart that they get to know her and love her as I know she loves them. They will learn from her and her influence on them will be nothing short of wonderful.
She is an amazing woman and I am lucky to say, she is my children’s Grandma. My children will not have to go through life not knowing this bond, and for that I am deeply grateful.