It's been almost a year since I brought up the topic of babies.
Bea wishes very much that we'd met several years ago. I could have been on the baby bandwagon.
In the past year, I have progressed past bandwagon to bandwhat? Of course, I don't coo over babies, but I largely don't covet them anymore, either.
Enter the multi-millionaire who can afford whatever she wants. She has a son through donor insemination and he's almost five. She wants another. She would consider a surrogate. She might consider her eggs. She just does not want to be pregnant again. She has a big heart and could love any child, to include an adoptive one.
However, if she had her way, she'd see me pregnant. If I were to be pregnant, I would have to use my eggs. My 47 year old eggs. Or she'd consider a surrogate. But I would want to breastfeed, which is best accomplished after a pregnancy.
She said if she got a surrogate, she'd want a live in surrogate who could be monitored.
She has a number of vials of the same donor semen. Still, she asked if I'd consider an African-American donor and I said I'd want another red head (as she carries on about what a pretty baby I made, who looks just like me), so she said her son's donor has red-headed children, too; this donor has had incredible success. If we were to do this, I'd prefer her son and the new baby to be half siblings together.
If I said yes. she would immediately begin the process.
How could I possibly let my guard down and hope again? It's too crazy. That wall was hard earned and built with blood, sweat, and tears.