TThe first time I made a miscarriage, I blamed myself. After having become pregnant at the start of our relationship, at 34, I had a flash of doubt that my partner Alex and I were not ready to be parents. Then, a few weeks later, pregnancy was over.
My second early defeat, a few months later, struck me stronger. We went to a fertility specialist, and the tests on both of us came back clearly, but I couldn’t get pregnant at all.
As we got married in December 2018, Alex and I were on a relentless treadmill of fertility interventions for three years. I had retained my breath during my third pregnancy in May 2017, devastated at the end, to be followed by a fourth defeat a year later, at 10 weeks and a half.
Infertility affected each part of my life. I had a hard time spending time with friends passing through pregnancy and early parenthood. Hearing their valid complaints and concerns, when it was all I wanted for me was almost physically painful.
It was after my fifth miscarriage, in mid-2019, and with an embryo left in the freezer, that my doctor suggested a substitution maternity. I felt so much contradictory emotions – I hope it could work, the sadness that I gave up on my body and the relief that the total responsibility for the success of a pregnancy would not be on my shoulders.
In Canada, where I live, substitution maternity is altruistic, although, as in the United Kingdom, expenses are paid. We crossed an agency, and when I saw Trish’s photo, I felt an incredible connection.
The fact that she lived in New Brunswick, at 6 p.m. on the road from us in Ontario, did not be beheaded. We have developed a deep link after spending five days together for its medical clearance tests.
Then, in August 2021, I became inexplicably angry with Alex. Aware that pregnancy and PMS seemed to me the same thing, I started to pass a test.
Seeing the second line appear, I said to myself: “Oh my God.” Trish was to start his medicine at fertility two weeks later. I assumed that it meant that I would make a miscarriage to what should be a happy moment. There was no joy or hope that my pregnancy would remain, just a devastation to the inevitability of the end.
When we told Trish, his answer was immediate and incredible. Of course, she wanted to move forward, she said, whatever happens with my pregnancy. Watching our embryo transferred two months later was incredibly emotional. I couldn’t believe what this incredible woman was doing for us. When we heard that the pregnancy test was positive, we were all in tears.
We talked to our family and our friends delighted with Trish when she was seven weeks pregnant, but I could not resolve to share my news before I reached 17 weeks. Even then, I was terrified, although to see their shocked joy was charming.
Trish was seven weeks before his deadline when I gave birth to Wilkin in April 2022. Holding my step son was both incredible and surreal. I felt a wave of relief, as if I finally knew that everything was going to go well.
Unfortunately, the severe colic of Wilkin made an 18 -hour journey impossible, and the pandemic made a flight, so I waited at home while my sister went with Alex to be on the delivery of Trish.
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Time has crawled while I was sitting there on FaceTime, while waiting for my second baby to be brought to the world. Then he was there, and, 48 hours later, Alex entered our room with Loic in his arms.
The boys, who are now three and the best friends, know that Wilkin has grown in my belly and my Loic at Aunt Trish. For them, this is completely normal. Trish and I are always great friends, and I will be grateful to him forever.
The people who meet them assume that they are twins. When I have time, I explain no, they are “twi borders”, the brothers and sisters were born incredibly close to each other. It is a wild and wonderful story to share.
I always look at my boys, Wilkin – Intelligent and sparkling – and Loic – Sweet and reserved – and I can’t believe how lucky. I know that all journeys do not end with a baby, and I feel in conflict with my story being exactly the kind of miracle that I heard so much about when I was trying to get pregnant. I just want people to know that there are so many of us who know the path they walk. They are not alone.
As Kate Graham said
Do you have experience to share? Send an email to l’experience@theguardian.com
