What's Left of Us

  I called The Circle of Life first thing Monday and scheduled an appointment with them for today, since my last final exam was yesterday.

  The drive to the agency is about forty-five minutes. We don’t speak, but hold hands tightly the entire drive.

  When we walk into the waiting room, tension is thick, stress and apprehension written all over the faces of the hopeful parents. It’s almost painful to see. I’d imagined walking into a room filled with bright colors and smiling faces, not dim lighting and worried expressions.

  Parker gives my hand a quick reassuring squeeze as we approach the desk.

  “Good morning; how can I help you?” the receptionist asks with a smile.

  “Good morning. We have a ten o’clock appointment with Polly,” Parker answers.

  She looks down at her computer screen, does some button pushing, and then grabs a stack of paperwork, handing it to Parker on a clipboard with a pen. “If you could please fill these out and bring them back once they’re completed, I’ll let her know you’ll be ready as soon as you’re done.”

  We flip through each page, answering questions about our income, desired surrogate location, and medical history, reminding me of why we’re here in the first place.

  “Desired location?” I whisper to Parker. “Who wouldn’t want someone from the same area carrying their baby?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it helps if you’re not picky about the location?”

  “Huh.”

  We didn’t really discuss looking outside the Twin Cities. Quite honestly, I didn’t even consider it an option. I want to be near the woman who’s going to be carrying our child.

  After the paperwork is filled out, we sit in silence, flipping through magazines until our names are called.

  We’re taken to a quiet office by a tall blonde who asks us to be seated. “Polly will be with you in a couple of minutes. Would either of you like something to drink? Coffee or water?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  I’m too nervous to drink anything, afraid if I do I may end up peeing my pants. I’m anxious, yet excited.

  Soon we’re greeted by a quiet knock. “Good morning,” a sweet voice says. I turn in my chair to get the first glimpse at the woman who will help decide our fate. She’s older, with short, curly brown hair and cute small-framed glasses.

  “Hello,” we reply.

  Parker stands to greet her, towering over her. I stay seated, waiting for them to finish their greeting.

  “I’m Polly. It’s so nice to meet the two of you.”

  “Likewise,” Parker says.

  Taking her seat, Polly asks, “Why don’t you tell me about yourselves and what you’re interested in.”

  She listens carefully, making notes as we take turns speaking.

  “At this point, we’re really interested in knowing what to expect in terms of cost, time-line, et cetera,” Parker concludes.

  “Of course. First, I’ve looked over Aundrea’s history and,” she pauses, looking at me, “it looks like you underwent a transvaginal oocyte retrieval about seven years ago before starting chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, correct?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. I knew I’d have to discuss my history—and, hence, why we’re here—but it doesn’t make it easier talking about it with a complete stranger. “That’s correct.”

  “And they’re stored where, exactly?”

  “At Twin Cities Fertility Specialists. Do you work with them?” I ask as she writes the name down. I’m not sure what the process of transporting the eggs entails, or what the cost of something like that would even be.

  “We have, yes, and we’d have your surrogate go there for the implantation process, which is something you would list in your contract with her, as well as pay the transportation fees for. But we’ll get to all that in a minute.” She glances at the papers in her hand before turning back to me. “The embryos have not been created, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “I would recommend getting that started. It’s an easy process and can be done with Twin Cities Fertility. You won’t need us for that, and it will help with the process once a surrogate is selected for the two of you.”

  “What exactly is that process?” Parker asks, glancing my way.

  “Honestly, not much, aside from the drive and your donation, Parker. Basically, you’ll schedule an appointment and drop off a specimen, which the clinic will transfer into the egg. The embryo will take about three to five days to develop. Those will be frozen until they’re needed for the transfer. As far as how many embryos you choose to create is entirely up to you, but the specialist with the clinic may suggest a number.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” Parker says.

  The knots in my stomach are replaced with butterflies at the thought of creating a child with Parker. It may not be the typical way, but it’s our way.

  “Here is our packet.” She hands us a folder containing a thick stack of papers and three brochures: Coping with Your Surrogate, Is Surrogacy Right for You, and Finding the Perfect Match. We scoot our chairs closer together to look it over.

  “You’re looking at about a year and half to two years until you have a baby in your arms. However, you need to understand that this is just a general time frame we give all our clients.”

  We both nod, flipping through the papers.

  I can handle that time frame.

  “We will look in our system for a carrier match in the location you requested and set up the meeting for you. If you feel it’s a good match, then the legal contracts will be drawn. As the intended parents, you will cover all legal fees for you and the carrier. She is entitled to use her own lawyer, however, we do offer one to represent all surrogates in our agency if she so chooses.”

  “Sure, that won’t be a problem,” Parker says calmly.

  I look over at him. Not a problem? We were just approved for a house loan. Does he think we’re growing a money tree?

  “Do we need to find our own lawyer, or do you have one that represents the parents too?” I ask.

  “Yes, we do work closely with a firm but, again, you’re free to use your own lawyer if you choose. Shall we go through the information?”

  Polly goes over the costs, what to expect, and the process, including the exact timeline of the procedure. Parker takes in everything, asking questions and replying to them. I try to write down as much as I can, but mostly I find myself staring at the packet before me, dollar signs flashing off the pages. What it comes down to is that having a baby will cost us somewhere between sixty and eighty thousand dollars. As the intended parents, we’re responsible to cover all agency costs, surrogate fees, medical costs, and insurance coverage, maternity leave, clothing allowance, transportation when necessary, legal and psychiatric evaluation fees.

  “There are two types of surrogacy listed. Which one would we be doing?” I ask, pointing at the paper in my hand.

  “You’ll go through a Gestational Surrogacy because you already have your eggs and the embryos will be created and implanted into your surrogate. This process can be a little faster, too. There are some hormones your surrogate will need to take to prepare for the implantation but, besides that, you’re looking at saving yourself a few extra months, as well as dollars. Another big savings, of course, is if you have your own surrogate. Have you discussed this? Some use a family member or close friend.” We look at each other. I never even thought about that. “It’s a savings of about twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “No, I don’t think we even thought about asking someone we knew,” Parker says.

  Who would we even ask?

  “It might be something to discuss. Our requirements are in the back of your packet. The major ones being that she has given birth to a healthy child in the last ten years and is under the age of thirty-two at the time of implantation.”

  That leaves out Jean and Shannon.

  “How long between pregnancies???
? I’m not sure I’d ask Genna, but it might be worth discussing.

  “Three months from a vaginal delivery and six months from a C-section. Do you have someone in mind?”

  “My sister, but I’m not even sure she’d be up to it. She had a baby a couple months ago, and …” I trail off, unsure what else to add. Parker and I have a lot to discuss and think about.

  “If she’s interested, we’d love to meet with her. She’d have to go through psychiatric and physical evaluations first, but it would definitely help your process move along faster.”

  “We’ll have to talk about it.”

  “You two don’t need to make any decisions today. It’s a lot to take in, so go home, think about it, and call me with any questions. If your sister has any questions she can certainly call too. I know this can all be overwhelming.”

  “If we choose not to use a family member, how long are you thinking until we have a surrogate match?” I ask.

  “That can be tricky. With your selective area I would anticipate at least four to six months. We have a few in our system in the Minneapolis area but, as of now, they’re already matched. But we do have new clients coming in all the time. It’s rare a match falls through, but it does happen.”

  “Okay.” Six months. I can handle that. I mentally make a timeline. We’d have to have contracts drawn up and agreed upon, which could take a while, we’d need a month or two for hormones before the implantation, then at least two weeks until we find out if we’re pregnant, and, if all goes well, a baby nine months later. We’re looking at just under two years. That sounds very reasonable.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. This is good. I feel good about all this.

  “That all sounds great,” Parker says, and we smile at one another. I take his hand, giving the back of it a quick peck.

  “Good! I’m glad to hear that. So, if you two decide to sign with us, the signing fee we discussed is in the paperwork. We require half at the time of signing, twenty-five percent when the contract with the surrogate is signed, and the last part within seven days of delivery. All other fees associated with the surrogate will be drawn up in the contract.”

  I’m excited, but I also can’t help the nerves I feel. I didn’t except this to cost so much. But, then again, can you really put a price on a baby?

  We say our goodbyes and Polly walks us out to the waiting area. Parker leads the way to the elevator and to our car.

  Once we’re in a space where we feel we can talk freely, we both start at once.

  “I want this.”

  “Let’s sign!”

  “Really?” he asks me, turning in his seat with a shy grin.

  “Of course!”

  “So, we’re really going to have a baby?”

  I don’t know why he needs the reassurance, but I give it to him. “We’re really going to have a baby.”

  He leans over the center console, his mouth landing on mine.

  After our lips break apart, he leans back.

  “Do you think you’d be interested in asking Genna to be our surrogate?”

  My lips purse. “I’m not sure how I’d feel about watching my sister carry our child.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for starters, all during her pregnancy with Hannah, she talked about forming that special bond with her unborn child. I don’t think I’d be able to handle watching that bond form between her and our baby.” He nods. “I can only imagine it would make bringing the baby home all the more difficult, too. I think I’d feel like I was stealing her baby, and not bringing home our baby. Using a stranger would be easier, I think. There’s no emotional connection between us and her.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I have absolutely no problem looking into using one of the agency’s surrogates.”

  “I think Genna would be great.” I need him to know that. It’s not that I don’t want to ask her.

  “I know you do.”

  “I just want this to be about us, with no pressure from family involved. And, God forbid if anything were to happen, I wouldn’t want her to feel responsible.”

  “I think you’re right. In the end, it’s best we use someone with no connection to us.”

  “Yes.”

  Once we’re on the road, Parker takes my hand and our fingers lock together. I squeeze tight, needing him to not let go of me. Or maybe it’s me not wanting to let go of him and this moment. Because, right now, holding his hand and thinking about the decisions we have made and will continue to make, I believe that no matter what happens, we’re in this.

  Together.

  On Saturday, I spend the afternoon helping Genna get ready for what she calls “prom day.” I’m not the best at doing hair and make-up, but I’ve learned a few tricks over the last couple of years, thanks to Jean. When it’s time for her to leave, I drive back to the apartment.

  I enter the apartment, calling for Parker. Silence. I yell again, even though the place isn’t that big.

  When I walk into the bedroom my eyes widen. Lying in the center of the bed is the orange dress that I tried on at the dress shop. Next to it is a note that says, “Wear me.”

  I pick the dress up¸ stunned. “What the?”

  “Do you like it?” a raspy voice startles me.

  Whipping around, my mouth drops open. Parker’s standing behind me with his hands behind his back, dressed in a black tux and an orange vest that matches the dress I’m holding.

  I step in front of him, running my fingers across the soft stubble along his chin. I love his stubble. He wanted to shave it when we got married, but I told him he was never allowed to shave his face clean. Ever.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  “I know you didn’t want to be a chaperone at the prom tonight, but you deserve to experience a prom, Aundrea, even if it’s just volunteering.” Parker fumbles with clear plastic packaging.

  “Parker Cade Jackson, are you blushing?”

  He looks up. “I want this to be perfect.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight.”

  He continues opening the box, slowly, looking nervous as he takes out a flower. It’s a white and pink corsage. His takes my right wrist, slipping the elastic band over my now shaking hand.

  “Aundrea, will you do me the honor of being my prom date this evening?”

  “You got me a corsage?” I whisper, admiring the beautiful colors.

  “It’s a lotus. Lotus means rebirth. I believe there are stages in our life, no matter our past or our age, which we deserve to be given a second chance at—a rebirth of something we missed out on. This is one of those second chances. An opportunity for you to experience something that you weren’t able to the first time.”

  My eyes burn. How on earth did I get so lucky as to call the man before me my husband? I’ve spent every day thanking whoever is above for watching over me the day Parker walked into my life.

  “I don’t know how it can’t be perfect with you as my date,” I say, leaning into him and wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling us closer together.

  “I want tonight to be flawless for you. I want to give you the most perfect damned prom you’ve ever dreamed of.”

  Prom. It’s just a word to some. But for me, it’s a key. A key that unlocks a painful memory and lets it free.

  Clipping the last piece of my curled hair back into a low bun at the nape of my neck, I take in the sleek dress that clings to my body.

  “I don’t want to rush perfection, but are you ready?” Parker calls from the living room.

  “Two more seconds.”

  I apply a last swipe of lip-gloss, one more coat of mascara, and a little pink glimmer blush. I know this isn’t my prom, but tonight is my night, so I’m going to look the best I can.

  Nodding in approval, I shut off the bedroom light and walk into the living room to greet Parker.

  He stands up immediately when I enter. “Wow,” he stutters u
nder his breath. “Aundrea, you look … remarkable.” He blinks a few times before stepping closer to me. Taking my hand, he gives me a small spin, taking in every inch of me.

  When he doesn’t speak, I give him a warm smile. I feel my heart pounding against my chest. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but right now I feel as if I really am seventeen again and waiting to go to the prom—but this time it’s so much better.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself, handsome.”

  “Not half bad? I didn’t get my nickname looking not half bad.”

  I giggle. “No, I suppose you didn’t.”

  He looks so young in this moment. Almost shy. “I’m honestly … wow,” he says, as he runs his hand through his blond hair again.

  “Oh, come on!” I nudge him. “You speechless? I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”

  “I mean it. Aundrea, you look … that dress!”

  I feel the blush creeping up my cheeks. I love that this man can still make the butterflies inside flutter. “Thank you.” Now I’m the one who’s speechless.

  Parker holds out his arm and I link mine with his. “Come on, beautiful. Genna instructed that I have us arrive no later than seven. I can’t have you late.”

  In true Parker fashion, we pull into the Convention Center parking lot in record time. A few heads in the parking lot turn and watch us pull in. I’m sure they’re more interested in his Scion FRS than the people inside.

  A group of teens are hanging out by the entrance, laughing and smiling as they pose for pictures. The girls look like delicate princesses in their beautiful ball gowns, showing off huge smiles and holding tightly to their dates. Watching them makes me think back to the pictures I received from my friends when I couldn’t make it to prom.

  Parker opens my door, extending his hand to me.

  “Thank you,” I say softly. My short-heeled nude shoes clack against the pavement as I step out. I feel a little out of place as I glance at the line of limos dropping off the late arrivals.

  “You okay?”

  “What, you can read minds now?”

  He laughs. “No, you just have that look on your face like you’re getting ready to run.”