When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew my life was about to change. What I didn't realize was that one of the hardest parts of the journey wouldn't be losing my hair, my breasts or even my ovaries. It would be accepting that I might never carry my own child.
Becoming a mother had been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. During my cancer treatment, my husband James and I managed to go through two rounds of IVF and freeze just one "fair quality" embryo. A little boy who had later become my son Chance.
We named him that years before he would arrive earthside because he was our only chance at having a baby that was genetically ours. He was our little miracle baby. After everything my body had endured, learning that I wouldn’t be able to carry that embryo myself felt like the cruelest and most heartbreaking blow of all.
Losing the opportunity to be pregnant with that one precious baby was the hardest part of my illness. But eventually, I realized I had a choice. I could focus on what cancer had taken from me, or I could embrace the unexpected path that still gave me a chance at motherhood.
At the time, I didn't know anyone who had used a surrogate. In fact, before my diagnosis, I knew very little about surrogacy at all. But I did know one thing: if another woman was going to carry my child, I didn't want it to feel like a business transaction.
To me, asking someone to go through months of pregnancy, countless medical appointments and, potentially, major surgery to bring your baby into the world was deeply human and personal. I wanted a connection, and that's when I met Whitney. I knew almost immediately there was something special about her.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
