The Clean-Up Conversation

When Sarah came to pick up her son, Jonathan, I told her about it.

"You'll never guess what you son said to me."

She looked at me. "Was it about the twins?"

Sarah is a very good guesser.

This was at a playdate just under a year ago, when Sarah's son and Kathryn were in the same kindergarten class. Upon meeting Kathryn's twin sisters, Jonathan came right up to me.

"My mom had twins, too."

"Really?" I said, with that same little smile I use for such statements from children, statements like "I'm wearing Superman's underwear" or "Bats poop from their mouth" or "I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore." I had only known Sarah a short while, but I was certain she didn't have twins. Where were the circles under her eyes? Where was that half-drunk, shuffle-step of the terminally tired? Where was the magic-markered "Do not resuscitate" written just below her collarbone?

"Yeah. She gave them to my Auntie."

My smile faltered.

Later, over coffee, Sarah told me the story. For her sister-in-law, Jen, and her husband she had been a "compassionate gestational surrogate". Of twins.

She's had what she calls the "Clean-Up Conversation" many times, usually after playdates or when her son sees twins or when he just feels like telling the check-out lady that his "mama had Auntie Jen's babies" as he casually passes soup cans down the conveyor belt. He's helpful like that.

I've invited Sarah to share the details here.

I was a compassionate gestational surrogate on behalf of my husband’s sister and her husband. After many, many failed attempts, my sister-in-law and her husband were given the soul-crushing news that they would not be able to have kids. They had just tried IVF and were about to go for their second round with frozen embryos when the doctors told them that they would need to consider other options. Not wanting to leave potential family members frozen in time, I volunteered to baby-sit for nine months. My plan was very simple really: in exchange for letting them use my womb, I’d be forever absolved of having to change dirty diapers. So far, so good.

What I hadn’t planned on however, was Jonathan’s propensity to advertise the surrogacy to anyone within earshot, at any time, in seemingly random situations. You can imagine my awkward surprise when standing – nine months pregnant - at the counter at the US Embassy in London, trying to secure a passport for Jonathan, solemnly and dutifully answering all the questions being asked of us, when he decides to announce to the official that I’m having his aunt’s babies. Or the time when I picked him up from school after we’d just moved to New Jersey from London and his teacher pulls me aside, The Look firmly planted on her face, whispering to me that she’s worried about Jonathan because he thinks I’ve just had twins and clearly there was no evidence of that because I still had my sanity intact. Indeed. We are never at a loss for ice-breaker conversations, that’s for sure.

To help explain the compassionate surrogate experience, Sarah has written a children's book, The Kangaroo Pouch, which she used to introduce her own kids to the idea that their mom was actually carrying their aunt's babies. I've read it and it didn't answer any of my questions, like why don't I have an Auntie Jen or why doesn't Sarah's halo show on overcast days, but maybe those aren't the questions she was trying to address. The book is available here and here. And if you'd like to learn more about Sarah and her experience, visit Lake House Books.

And, no, Auntie Jen is not accepting any more twins. I asked.

Comments

[Swimming In Laundry]

Knowing what I know about carrying around twins for 12 months (ok, i was only pregnant for 8 months, but it sure felt like a year), Sarah gave the most amazing gifts! I wonder if the recipients ever want to return the gifts for say a gift card.

[Holly]

What a beautiful story. I was just recalling my own bumpy pregnancy with twins, and thinking these would have to be very special people indeed to make such a sacrifice. How encouraging to think of people being so selfless as to give others the gift of a family.

[DebiD]

Wow, what a selfless act! I'm a pretty giving person but I'd still want a tummy tuck for my troubles ;-)

[magpie]

Wow - never thought about surrogacy from THAT perspective.

[Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah]

That really is a great story. I think it takes an amazing person to do something like that.

[Virginia]

Were I to ever do such a selfless thing I would insist on a no returns policy :-)

[The Mom]

I think I'd demand a personal trainer rather than the tummy tuck. And the no returns policy would be a definite.

[Mr. Pubin]

The return policy on those twins must have had a helluva re-stocking fee.

[The Godfather]

Imagine the things Jonathon would've said if the twins had been returned...

[The Godfather]

Surrogate of twins... isn't there a Nobel prize for that?

[Shortie]

I love these stories. We have a friend who has triplets -- all from the same procedure on the same date, one gestated in her womb and two in her sister's. They were born not just in different months but in different years -- the 2 on Dec. 25, the other on Jan. 25. But they're triplets. This is the same woman who told me her husband came home one day when the triplets were a couple of months old and they were all in car seats -- one on the empty (but running) washer, one on the empty (but running) dryer, and the other being vaccuumed around from a seated position in the rocking chair. Apparently the noise and vibration was the only thing that kept them all 3 quiet for 10 minutes at a time. Made my life seem like cake.

[oona]

yes... a selfless act. Sort of. If you don't include the self part of carrying twins. All of that aside, I read this one through tears of laughter.

[Sue]

I just LOVED reading this. I am acting as Gestational Carrier for friends. We are about to go for our second try having lost our first Bub three months ago (at 8.5 weeks gestation)and it is so wonderful to read of the successess. I am so excited and am looking forward to being able to say to people who ask 'How far' I am "Oh no, I'm not pregnant. It's not mine".