What To Expect When You're Expecting...
...an elective C-section surrogacy birth. With a difference
This one hasn’t been the easiest to write because, well, all definitely did not go to plan. Our experience of surrogacy birth the second time round was about as far away from the first as it is possible to be. Like the Antarctica of birth stories, but before I go on, the good news, (and heart-warming lesson learnt), is that it really doesn’t matter. Now, at least. Which is why I can get it out of my system in the most cathartic way I know how, by writing it down…
Talking about surrogacy and the extreme acts of kindness that make it possible here in the UK, with anything other than glowing appreciation is definitely uncomfortable. But it’s also been my experience at times, and I’ve not been one to shy away from telling some truths. So here is how it went.
Our second surrogate George and I had a plan. I say that, it was more her plan and I was in full agreement - she has a veritable wealth of surrogacy experience and expertese compared to me, plus my steadfast opinion is the baby might be mine, but the pregnancy and the birth is all hers. She’s going through that for me? She needs to have whatever she needs and wants. And what she wanted was an elective cesaerian section (due to two previous surgeries) and her adult daughter with her in the room. When you’re making any kind of birth plan you do so with the hope it will act as some kind of instruction manual for the hospital you’re giving birth in. For surrogacy it’s with even more hope and trepidation, since it’s still a wildly unusual scenario for most medical professionals, so extra explanation is needed.
For every preceeding appointment I went to with George, I was (understandably) in the backseat. She was the patient, she was the primary focal point of the sonographer, or midwife or phlebotomist or whomever else we were seeing, and quite rightly - she was my main priority in all of those instances too. But I had a frame of reference this time, and it was definitely different to our first hospital experience. In particluar I noticed how I was percieved in those moments, in that I wasn’t, particlarly. And it made me a little nervous, because we were going to have the baby in this same hospital, and the birth holds some deep significance for the intended parent too.
Only a little bit nervous though, because I’d been through this scenario before - (all be it in a different time, place and with a different team,) and it worked out beautifully. Plus, George is an absolute pro. She was confident, in control, ahead of the game and had soon set up a call so we could discuss our birth choices with the head of mid-wifery at the hospital, and put a plan in place.
And it was lovely, actually. I introduced myself and gave my genuine stance right off the bat. ‘This is George’s birth, the most important thing to me is that she is comfortable and gets what she needs.” I expected standard nods of agreement, but the midwife said, “Well no, Sophie. This is your birth too and it’s important to us that your needs are accounted for. So what are they?”
Well that was not what my Surrogacy 101 training had ever taught me thus far. Even in the dream-like birth of our first daughter Marlies, we had a lot of hoops to jump (OK, storm) through to try and get what we all hoped for. It’s just a birth ward adendum, basically. We know you haven’t experienced much of this arrangement guys, but here’s how we all feel and what we hope is possible, even though it’s not the norm.
I’d felt like such a hazy hanger-on in this second hospital experience that I was moved to tears to finally hear a senior medical professional validate my position as intended mother. Well! It was all going to be OK!
I explained that I was a bit anxious because we had to learn together with the hospital where Marlies was born as it was their first surrogacy birth. We ended up helping them write their surrogacy policy in the end. “Well, we already have a surrogacy policy here,” she said. “And I know this because I wrote it and I am extremely proud of it.” What a bloody turn up for the books. The rest of the call was brilliant. My one worry was being present at the birth because I wasn’t sure of the rules around surgical theatre delivery and I was desparate to have that initial bonding moment and have first skin to skin contact. But I guessed numbers were limited. George was happy for me to be there, and knew I’d want to witness my daughter come into the world, be the first to hold her, all of the incredible and important moments that would help solidify my relationship and understanding of myself as mother to this child who I couldn’t carry myself.
And our midwife agreed. Of course! We could both be there, George’s daughter and me. Mr. B was more than happy to be elsehwere, a surgical delivery was a squeamish step too far for him this time (If you need to remember his experience of the first birth, here’s a link to the original article in The Times) Oh the relief. Furthermore we’d have separate rooms to respectively recover and bond in immediately following the birth (space permitting of course), but if no side room were available, a ward would be.
George and I both left that call feeling relieved, cared for, and well and truly heard. We were looking forward to the imminent due date with a sense of excitement and clarity. Now it was time to get ready!
But then…
I’ll let the somewhat painful letter of complaint I wrote to the hospital tell the rest…