Shots shots shots shotsSHOTSshots!!

Okay so I was going to write earlier this week about the pregnancies and deliveries of both my girls, but when I started typing, the words weren't coming to me so I decided I should wait until my heart was in it. 

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love talking about my pregnancies and deliveries as much as the crunchy mom next to me, but sometimes the words come out better on other days. 

Anyway! Shots... 

Saying I hate getting shots is an understatement. I remember my brother being in the hospital for strep pneumonia (I think that's what it was-my 8 year old mind might be playing tricks on me) and feeling like I was going to pass out when they had to give him an IV. I never felt that feeling again... until 2 nights ago. 

I started taking the small tummy injections on June 16th. Despite the fact that it took me about 456 times of saying "Okay... Ready?- Okay... Ready? One, two- Okay ready?" as my husband stood behind me laughing "yes babe, I'm ready...", I did it and I was pleasantly surprised that it hurt no more than the tiny Lalaloopsy toys I step on everyday. Actually, it didn't hurt nearly half that pain. It was quick, easy and... over. 

My nightly Lupron injections were a piece of cake. I even let K watch me the night she got her shots from the doctor (which is a story in itself). Then Thursday came. Thursday I started to take the bigger needles on my bum. The video seemed like a piece of cake, but it FREAKED. ME. OUT. I couldn't even give myself the teenie Lupron shot I had been doing for DAYS with no problem. 

I cried.

I'm not gonna lie. I was so frustrated, I walked over to the bed and asked my husband to please come help me because I can't do it myself. Because he loves me so much, he quickly walked me to the bathroom and told me it was okay and reassured me I was more than capable of doing this. With his support, and the thought of my intended parents happiness, I did it. 

Then came the big bum needle. 

So from all the YouTube videos I watched, I could go slow and be okay even though "in the motion of a dart" is what the suggested video told me to do. So I put the needle on my bum and lightly pushed it into my skin. I felt the needle pierce but felt no pain, so I finished placing the needle and about half way through I remember saying "I feel reeeeeeally dizzy" and felt my husband wrap his arms around me to catch my fall. Yep, my fall. I felt my knees buckling as I was injecting the oil and remember thinking "I will NOT fall because with my luck, I'm gonna fall on the damn needle and hurt myself even more. Let me finish injecting and then I can pass out." 

Yes, those were my thoughts. After I injected and pulled the needle out, I thought "Hey that wasn't that bad!". But let's remember, I'm still super dizzy and I still can't stand on my own. So my thoughts might be different next time I inject (Tuesday). 

For the record, yeah my butt still hurts, but it's probably cause I injected the needle super slow. 

I'm hopeful that my injection on Tuesday goes a bit better than this past Thursday. Although I dislike shots, I'm still excited for this journey and I know every needle is worth it for these parents. I'm so thankful for my healthy body and happy to be able to carry for this amazing family. 

Stay tuned, because next post will be about the Journey of K, unless I decide to make a video (as promised to some of my favorite Facebook mommas) and talk more about my shots. 

Hope you all have a lovely weekend- until next time! 

Call me crazy.

Hi. 

I'm Bianca, people call me Bee. 23 years old living in sunny California. I'm married, have 2 kids and going to be pregnant next month. The 16th of July to be exact. Only thing that sets me apart from lots of other pregnant mommies is... My baby won't belong to my husband. He or she won't look like him, talk or act like him. Because, well... They aren't his. He or she (and possibly THEY) won't be either of ours. 

I'm a surrogate. 

Yeah I'm crazy. Crazy about happiness. Crazy about babies toes and baby snuggles. Bath toys and first words. I'm crazy about the love and affection that is passed between a human being to it's offspring. I cry when I see parents struggle with infertility. My heart drops when I hear about a miscarriage. Probably because I went through one for a weekend. 

When I was pregnant with my first daughter K, I was only 18. I was still living at home at was only in college for a couple months. One day at work, my life changed forever. See, I knew I was pregnant, but I hadn't told anyone yet. I got ready and was waiting to clock in when I felt like I wet my pants. I ran to the bathroom and there was blood. So. Much. Blood. 

I panicked and called my mom. She told me we had to go to urgent care immediately so I told my manager I threw up blood and had to leave. I was shaking. My mom picked me up and Ray met us there. I finally got called in and after explaining what had happened, I was told I'm most likely miscarrying my baby. I didn't know what to do. My heart was breaking. How can I at only 18 years old be so affectionate about this fetus who was only inside of me for less than 8 weeks? Why was this happening? Did I do something wrong? Why won't my body let me do what nature wants me to do and have a healthy baby? 

I went to Rays that night. I cried the whole drive there. I turned the radio to a Christian station and prayed to God that they were wrong. I begged for my baby to be okay. I asked for forgiveness for anything I did to cause this. I cried and I cried and I cried. 

I didn't go to work that weekend, and I was scared of what I would have to go through on my appointment Monday morning. I had no clue what they were going to do, how they were going to do it or how much more I would cry that week. Until the ultrasound....

A heart beat. 

A heart beat and a moving baby. How could this be? They were wrong? My prayers were answered? Did the will of wanting my baby so bad help my body to hold on to something it was rejecting? Who knows. But 30 weeks later, I gave birth to an amazing 5lb 1oz baby girl, just 2 days after my birthday. 

That weekend of pain and sorrow- I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. The thought of my body not wanting my baby hurt me so bad. I'm thankful to every and any factor that went into my baby being there that Monday morning and still being here this Wednesday night. 

That's why I chose this life changing experience. 

To put babies into the arms of those willing and able to raise them. To bring more birthdays and weddings. To help love and happiness show brighter and brighter with each step the babies take. I'm doing this for the moms who cry and blame themselves for the negative pregnancy test results. For the dad's who pick up the pieces that is his wife and be as strong as possible. 

I love babies and happy endings. 

I look forward to spending more time with you all as I write about my journey with this surrogacy. I love to write, but I'm terrible at English, so bear with me. I promise I'll get my they're, their and there's right and if there's a word I don't know if I'm using properly, I'll change the entire sentence. Haha! 

-B