After posting recently I was reached out by someone who wanted to put their own story out there, but didn't want to post it herself (privacy and whatnot). I have helped write and edit it, and hope you all enjoy!
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I haven't told anyone this story, but it has been many years now and I don't think anyone would potentially find out, so here we go. Names changed, so we'll say I'm Sandy, my friend's name is Emma, and her husband's name is Tom. I'm kinda filling in the blanks where I can, some stuff I've forgotten, but the big points are there. A bit of a long read, so you've been warned. Also, if you've had any fertility issues, trigger warning right off the bat. There is some fun in there, but also some challenging feelings.
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Emma had breast cancer in her mid-twenties. It was heartbreaking, because she found out shortly after she and Tom got married. It was always her plan to live a really normal life with a family. This is a serious part of who she is, because she had lived through some difficult situations as a child and wanted to put that behind her in her own adult life. Before chemo she was only able to have a few eggs harvested and Doctors told her it would be five years of remission before they could try for a baby. It was a major point of frustration for her, because two years or so out of chemo she said she felt better than ever and just wanted to get on with her life. She said that she felt like a hostage, and had already been through enough of that. It was during one of those long phone calls where she was venting that I finally offered more than just words of support.
"Seriously, sometimes I just want to find a surrogate and let her use one of my eggs," Emma snapped, "it's just that bag of money hanging over my head, not to mention that I probably couldn't trust anyone to do it."
I took a deep breath, I had been thinking about it for a while, and now was the time to say something, "I'd do it for you."
Emma laughed, "aww, Sandy, that is so sweet. If I was serious about all this, I'd probably take you up on it."
"I'm serious," I blurted, "really, if you want a surrogate I'll do it. I won't charge you anything, just pay for the medical bills, if that's okay?"
"Oh my god, Sandy, for real? I mean, of course we'd pay for the medical bills, but we'd want to take care of you however we could, but are you really serious, you'd do that for me?" her voice was choking up.
"You've been there for me a lot, I have thought about it a ton," I answered.
I'm a big crier, and hearing her voice on the phone crying set me off. She thanked me a lot and said she'd talk to Tom about it. She called me a few minutes later and I was on speakerphone. Tom and her both sounded like they were crying, so then that set me off again. They thanked me a lot, and said they'd do whatever they could to support me while I went through the pregnancy. Then they calmed down and had a request of me, and let me know I could take as long as I needed to answer.
"Yikes, I'm a bit scared," I laughed nervously, "you're not going to ask me to make a sacrifice or something, right?"
"Well, in a way we are," Tom drew out his words.
"Oh... um- okay, what do you want?" I answered, still nervous.
"Would you be willing to use one of your own eggs?" Emma filled in the blank space.
"Don't you want it to be your own baby?" I blurted again, "I mean, sorry... that came out wrong. Don't you want it to be one of your eggs?"
"Tom and I talked about it," Emma explained, "but there are hormone injections, and a risk that none of the eggs may implant, then I'd have zero to try with myself after the 5 years are up. It is really hard on your body as well, in general."
I think in the excitement of helping her out, I wanted to come across as supportive as possible and didn't really let myself think about the implications.
"I mean, if you don't mind, sure," I answered quickly.
Emma and I aren't twins, but since we're both of east asian descent and Tom is hispanic, the baby would be mixed anyway and it'd be likely no one would notice with the mixed features. We had more conversations about it over the next few weeks, and my only demand was that I not be listed anywhere on the birth documents and that we not tell anyone that we hadn't done in vitro fertilization. To the world at large I was just the oven, but it was their bun. They explained that we'd be using the ICI or so-called "turkey-baster" method. Tom would be intimate with Emma in their bedroom, then finish in a cervical cup. I would be in the guest room of their house, Emma would give me the cup, I'd insert it and we'd do that until I got pregnant.
It seemed pretty simple on paper.
The first time I ended up spilling the cup everywhere. TMI warning, I usually use pads. Anyway, because of that I'm not super familiar with putting anything IN, so it was a mess. After that, I would wear a long shirt to cover myself and Emma would put the cup inside for me.
Three months later, we were all kind of frustrated with the process, as I was not getting pregnant. I was pretty stressed out, and just wished that I'd not have to do the whole song and dance much longer. I was trying to stay positive when I was around them, but internally I was freaking out that maybe my uterus was just broken and I wasn't ever going to be able to get pregnant. (Yes, I saw my gyno before we started to make sure I was in good health)
Emma did some reading and found that stress levels can have a huge impact on whether or not you get pregnant. We had a conversation about it and she ended up having some ideas on how to make the process more comfortable for me. One night, I walked into the guest room and it was set up completely differently than normal. The lights were off except the table lamp, soothing music was playing, and there was a scent of essential oils permeating the air.
"Oh wow, am I going to get a spa treatment?" I asked myself.
When I got to the bed I saw that there was a tall water heater and next to it were a couple of bottles and things that didn't look familiar. Emma and Tom were a little bit louder than usual in the room next door, and I could feel myself getting wet as I listened. It felt naughty to be so close to them, and I also let myself think about how his cum would be inside me pretty shortly. Something about it felt really taboo in that moment, even if I had already done it tons of times. Emma walked into my room a few minutes later and navigated towards me with the cup. I laid back like normal but after she put it in, she stayed on the bed and rubbed my tummy gently, as if willing me to get pregnant. She touched me for a long time, massaging my sides and tummy, and I sighed in relief. It felt loving and safe to have her there, and I could feel myself getting sleepy.
