Good news for you! I’m going to have to blog DAILY for the entire month.
Because I need to beg for votes…for Kellan…to win the Gerber baby contest in his milestone category!
I mean, come on! It’s GERBER!!! Can’t you just see him as a Gerber baby?? I know! ME. TOO.
You ALL think he’s super cute…so now is your chance to show it!
It is a once daily voting thing – which drives me bananas because that means I have to remember to ask you – daily – to vote and then you get annoyed with me because I’m always asking you for something…but IT’S GERBER.
Ask your friends to vote, too? And family? Co-workers? Strangers at the grocery store?
Here is the link to vote for Kellan: https://apps.facebook.com/gerberps/detail.do?entry_id=114360
Just copy and paste and send away!
(I’ll love you forever)
Ok…now on to what I was REALLY going to say…
(I started writing this last week. Obviously, lots of things – like the zoo and running errands and a picnic – precluded me from finishing until……now. Just FYI)
I had something I wanted to say this morning…and before I had a chance to actually sit down and write about it, something ELSE happened that basically made me feel like a total ass.
(sorry, it’s true)
I took Kellan to Walgreens to return a box of Little Fevers. See, last week, when Kellan was having a really rough teething day, Tim came home from work and was immediately sent on a travel-all-over-creation looking for Infant Tylenol, grape flavor.
PSA: It doesn’t exist. It was recalled due to some kind of dosage confusion on the bottles.
Dear Tylenol: WE NEED THAT. Kellan gags and spits up every other kind.
Anyway, Tim ended up buying the same thing I had already purchased earlier in the day and so…we needed to take it back because who needs two of something the child hates?
I’m standing in line to check out and return the Little Fevers and there is this lady in front of me with her grandson (I am assuming). She has an odd assortment of items she’s buying. Among those, Bugles, two bottles of orange Gatorade and a four pack of GE lightbulbs – the energy saving kind.
The cashier rings everything up and gives her the total and she pulls out her money, counts it, and is like, “Well, shoot.” and takes one of the Gatorade’s out.
She takes out the lightbulbs and comes just under the amount of money she has in her hands.
All the while, I’m standing there, first looking at how much the original total was ($40-something) and am thinking, “Can I really afford to put $40 on the credit card?….” and at the same time thinking, “It IS just $40…”
Regardless…the universe threw me an opportunity to DO SOMETHING GOOD and I didn’t DO ANYTHING.
I sat there, while this poor woman was all, “I should have brought my wallet in. I’m so sorry…”
Seriously, self. I could have been like, “No problem. I’ve got it. How much do you need?” instead of thinking, “$40?!…can I do that??”
It was a Gatorade and lightbulbs, people.
And I let her walk out of the store without either.
Gigantic pay it forward FAIL.
I feel like such an ass.
This moment is going to stick with me for life. I know it.
I’m begging the universe to give me another chance…because I royally screwed this one up.
****end embarrassing moment of the day****
The main thing I actually wanted to write about was “gestational carriers.”
HOW CAN SOMEONE DO THAT???
I have absolutely nothing against people who do it or people who utilize them. I just cannot understand how a person – even if they know from the words pregnant with someone else’s baby – can go nine months carrying this child, bonding with it, feeling it move around, then going through the process of labor and delivery of this baby and not even getting a chance to hold this tiny little person they created and carried in their body (even if it was with someone else’s egg and sperm).
This is stemming from the birth of the Rancic’s baby yesterday and the article that talks about how Bill cut the cord and Giuliana was the first to hold him…etc.
There was no word on the gestational carrier. No news on how she’s holding up, what with the process that is childbirth and then the after – sans a little baby to hold and make it all better.
(maybe the paycheck was worth it, I have no idea…I wouldn’t be able to do this for millions of dollars, so…)
Again, I have nothing against those who use gestational carriers or those who sign up for the job – they are a stronger woman than me, that’s for sure. I know they are giving a couple an opportunity to be parents who may otherwise never have the chance (to have a biological child). Granted, I would imagine they should have to be a mother first, before they literally hand over their first born, because if you have never felt the immediate connection and overwhelming sense of love when you first see that baby you have carried with you, twenty four hours a day, then you are in for a really rude awakening. Couple that with all of the hormone craziness that happens after that baby is no longer inside of you and WOW.
They should be paid quadruple for that mess alone. Post-pregnancy hormones are the WORST. Everything makes you cry. EVERYTHING.
And yet, there is no baby for you to care for or comfort or find solace in.
I remember when Kellan was first born and the movements he would make…I would be like, “WOW. That’s how he moved his foot in my ribs!” or “That’s what he always did during an ultrasound [putting his hand over his face]!”
I could not imagine Kellan coming into the world and someone whisking him away, handing him off to someone else. But…wait…
He knew my voice and the rhythm of my heartbeat and…me. Gestational carrier or not, that baby bonded with the person who carried them and kept them within their womb. Then, instead of giving that baby the comfort it probably craves after the birthing process, it is handed off to strangers who sound different…who have heartbeats that do not match the person it has come to know and seek comfort in. I have to imagine there is some biological design built into a newborn that makes it want to be near the only person it really knows.
That thought alone breaks me. That is why I could never do it, I could never – would never – just hand over a baby after having so many experiences and tender moments with him, before he was even “here.”
I’m sure the baby…turned child…is fine in the long run…but had I been the person who carried the baby and then never really saw him or her again, save birthday here or an impromptu visit there, I don’t think I could handle it. Even just seeing that baby for a brief moment. How do you not look at that child and remember what it felt like while they were inside of you? Growing…developing…kicking…?
It would break me.
I would be broken.
It would feel like part of me was out in the world…and I wasn’t there to guide them, love them…even though it may not be *my* egg or *my significant other’s* sperm…*I* still grew that child and that child got to know *my* voice, *my* heartbeat. Got to know ME.
Couldn’t do it.