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Woman Comes To The Rescue When She Notices A Potential Gym Creeper

Posted: 10 Feb 2018 07:54 AM PST

A tweet about a woman trying to help save another woman struck a chord

There’s a Twitter thread currently going viral about women saving women from creepy dudes — and it just might restore your faith in humanity. The conversation kicked off when Twitter user Nicoletta posted a short anecdote about a female stranger who pretended to be her friend when she thought a guy was bugging her.

Turns out, the guy was Nicoletta’s boyfriend just joking around, but it was a beautiful, touching moment of solidarity and kindness.

It seems like the story really resonated with women (SURPRISE SURPRISE).

Of course there were men chiming in the replies who didn’t understand why women don’t want to be aggressively hit on while they are just trying to live their lives. Avoiding creeps at the gym is nothing new. But more importantly, many, many women hopped in to share their own tales of kind female strangers who had their back.

They also had plenty of stories about men who had their back too — which added heartwarming feelings on top of heartwarming feelings.

Then there were the women who didn’t have a story to share but wanted to give a shout-out to sisters helping sisters. Because it is honestly a beautiful thing,

Nicoletta’s gym savior even chimed in to explain why she stepped in and helped.

“The first time I started going to the gym older men would compliment my figure and say really weird things that would make me uncomfortable,” she began. “I always wanted someone who intervene because I KNOW people were hearing this. But no one ever did.”

She went on to say that – even though it turned out the guy was actually Nicoletta’s boyfriend — she’s very glad she said something.

Here’s hoping  that some guys figure out the appropriate way to flirt and learn to pick up on signals. In the meantime, it’s so nice to see that we’re all looking out for each other.

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What This Dad Did To Get Macaroni Out Of His Son’s Nose Is Peak Parenting

Posted: 10 Feb 2018 05:20 AM PST

Kids get stuff stuck up their nose — it happens

If you have a kid you know how completely disgusting they can be. Not because they try to be — fine, perhaps sometimes they do, in fact, try to be gross. But also because they simply cannot help themselves. Kids will get into anything and everything. And if left to their own devices they will almost always stick something in themselves.

Look, they’re kids. Kids are curious. So if there’s a random piece of food left on the table and said food fits into an orifice, a kid’s gonna stick it there. Mom Katie Aultman realized her son may have stuck some such item — a piece of macaroni —  into his nose and, like a boss, made her husband retrieve it.

Then she posted it on Facebook. As you should.

“So…Jayce stuck macaroni in his nose,” she wrote. “Therefore, I had to tell Josh Aultman how to extract it…best vid ever. Hahahahahaha…”

Yes, her husband was the (un)likely recipient of a wet, snotty, half-digested pasta noodle that was stuck in his son’s nose now in his mouth. Because that’s what dads do — they rescue stray carbohydrates.

What’s even better is that parents everywhere chimed in with similar stories of their own. Because they are parents and they have been there. Or they just wanted to laugh at the Aultman’s expense. Either way, it was funny:

If you are a parent, odds are you have an equally disgusting story. There is so much random poop, snot, and bodily fluids you encounter, it’s no wonder you end up feeling like a human Kleenex tissue. Blowing your kid’s nose with your mouth seems like a perfectly normal reaction to getting food stuck up there.

I remember being at our local butcher and my son, who was 18 months old at the time, sneezed and when I looked at him, he had a giant snot bubble running down his face, threatening to run into his mouth. I was holding him, a giant top sirloin, and there was no tissue in sight at the time. So, I did what any parent would do and grabbed the snot with my bare hand while the butcher lunged towards me like Bruce Willis yelling, “Noooooooo.”

This from a man with his hand up the business end of a cow most days.

You do what you’ve gotta do. That’s called being a parent. Good job, dad. Judging by your son’s giggles, it’s probably safe to say you’re doing a pretty good job.

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Comedian Rob Delaney Reveals 2-Year-Old Son Passed Away In Heartbreaking Post

Posted: 10 Feb 2018 04:56 AM PST

Delaney’s son suffered from brain cancer for half of his too-short life

Comedian and actor Rob Delaney shared an emotional Facebook post announcing the passing of his two-year-old-son, Henry. Delaney wrote that Henry died in January after battling brain cancer since 2016.

“I have very sad news,” Delaney writes. “My 2½-year-old son Henry has passed away.”

The Catastrophe actor shared that Henry was initially diagnosed with a brain tumor shortly after his first birthday. Surgery and treatments to remove the tumor continued through last year, when the cancer eventually returned in the fall.

“My wife and Henry’s older brothers and I are devastated of course,” Delaney writes. “Henry was a joy. He was smart, funny, and mischievous and we had so many wonderful adventures together, particularly after he’d moved home following fifteen months living in hospitals. His tumor and surgery left him with significant physical disabilities, but he quickly learned sign language and developed his own method of getting from A to B shuffling on his beautiful little bum. His drive to live and to love and to connect was profound.”

He praises his wife and two other sons for their love. “They are why I will endeavor to not go mad with grief,” he says. “I don’t want to miss out on their beautiful lives. I’m greedy for more experiences with them.”

London-based Delaney also praised Britain’s National Health Service for their efforts in the post.

“The NHS nurses and doctors and the home carers and charity workers who helped our family survive Henry’s illness will be my heroes until the day I die,” he says. “I am desperately sad right now, but I can say with authority that there is good in this world.” In his post, he offers ways for people to help other families with sick children in the UK.

Delaney has always been candid about his own struggles with depression and addiction in his comedy, and on Twitter — though he’s incredibly private about his family life.

“Finally, I ask that you respect my family’s privacy regarding this matter. I have nothing else to say that I haven’t said here. Thank you, beautiful Henry, for spending as much time with us as you did. We miss you so much.”

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To The Sports Parents Who Were Mocking My Child

Posted: 09 Feb 2018 06:00 PM PST

My husband and I are not sports people. I mean, sure, we can tell you what teams are played in the Super Bowl, but only when we sit down to watch the halftime show. Our family is active and while we enjoy entering local running races together as a family, our kids have tended to gravitate towards individual sports and activities rather than team sports.

And that’s fine with me.

Because our experience with team sports has been little, we’ve been spared the drama that comes with local recreation leagues and school sports teams. Stories about practice schedules from hell, parents who can’t behave on the sidelines, and kids who can barely keep up with their studies have largely kept me from encouraging my kids towards team sports.

But, last year, that changed when my daughter’s shyness started to interfere with her ability to relate to the other middle school girls. Tween girls can be a hard group to assimilate into and, for a bookish, shy girl who isn’t wild about boys, recess and social time can be difficult to manage. In discussing ways our daughter could come out of her shell and learn to be more assertive with her social interactions, she admitted that she thought playing a team sport would help. She asked if she could join a local basketball league because she’s always loved to play the game at school.

I signed her up for a local team and was delighted that her teammates welcomed her with open arms. They were patient with her as she learned and as I watched her excitedly chatting with her new friends at practice, I breathed a sigh of relief. We can do this, I thought.

But my excitement was shattered when we attended our first game.

I was shocked and appalled at how willing other patents are to disparage young kids on the court. I was disheartened to hear parents openly commenting about their child’s teammates with rude assessments of their abilities. And when I heard another mom make a nasty comment about the number my daughter was wearing, I was horrified.

WTF, Sports Parents?

No, seriously, what the actual fuck?

Sports Parents, have you forgotten that your child was once a beginner, too? Just because my daughter is learning the ropes of basketball at the age of 12 doesn’t make it any easier than when your kid was learning at the age of 5 (or birth, as some parents will lead you to believe). No, scratch that. It’s harder for her to learn because she has a bleacher full of judgmental parents (ahem) yelling that she’s doing a suck ass job. My beautiful, shy, brave AF daughter has to drown out the negative comments coming from the cheap seats and I’m going to have to ask you to leave the game, Sports Parents, if you can’t play nicely.

Lest you run the risk of morphing from the supportive fan I assume you want to be into an obnoxious AF fanatic you are at risk of becoming, let me break it down for you…

Before you yell at a kid from the sidelines about a bad play, consider that he might be battling crippling anxiety. You have no idea what it took for that young boy to show up and toe the line. It takes guts to show up and play.

If you feel the need to critique a kid at practice, perhaps ask yourself if there’s a way you can help that young girl master a new skill. If you are so good at basketball, bring your talent to the front of the room and share with the class, sir.

And, when your all star kid gets pulled so that a benchwarmer can play, kindly, and I mean this sincerely, STFU. Your kid gets to hog the spotlight for the majority of the game. Let the bench warming kid bask in the glow of glory for the two minutes of play time he’s allotted. That kid has been patiently waiting all season, in your kid’s shadow, and has been rooting for your athlete from the sidelines. He doesn’t need the sound of you yelling, “Come on, coach, put my kid back in!” ringing in his ears while he’s trying to keep up.

I get it: committing to a sports team is time consuming. After the hours of driving your kid to practice and watching the long hours of hard work, you want to see your kid win. You want your kid to have the experience of working as a team and succeeding at a goal. It can be frustrating, I know, to see your kid excelling while another one is seemingly holding the team back.

But here’s the thing you seem to have left in the locker room, Sports Parents: this isn’t professional sports. It’s a recreation league. It’s middle school soccer. It ain’t the big time, okay? And, until a big talent scout is showing up with your kid’s name on a $ 40 million football contract, I’m going to have to ask you to take several seats when you pick on my kid — or any kid, for that matter — for not playing up to your expectations.

And, by the way? Your kid is playing on the same team as mine, so, really, let’s be honest here: the talent pool is pretty much the same. If your kid was really that good at sports, wouldn’t she be on some super fantastic team? Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? My kid doesn’t want to play for the NBA. She just wants to feel a little less awkward in her teenaged skin during what we all know is the most awful time of growing up: the middle school years.

Sports Parents, because I’m new at this, I’m learning, too. And, I’d like to thank you for teaching me that I am never going to be a member of Team Mean Parent. Because that team’s skill set sucks.

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New Program Makes Fresh Produce More Affordable For Food Stamp Recipients

Posted: 09 Feb 2018 06:00 PM PST

One of the most difficult aspects of living on a low income is that eating healthfully is often out of reach. Healthy foods, especially fresh fruits and vegetables, are simply more expensive than pre-packaged and processed foods, and when you are on a shoestring budget, you usually have to buy the cheaper items just to stay afloat.

Research has found this to be the case as well. A 2013 study from Harvard and Brown universities, for example, found that eating healthfully costs families an additional $550 a year per person—which is a lot for a family who is struggling to get by.

And the glaring consequence of all this is that having an unhealthy diet can lead to health issues, chronic illness, and diseases, which no one should have to endure, regardless of socioeconomic status.

“For many low-income families, this additional cost represents a genuine barrier to healthier eating,” the study's authors said. “Yet, this daily price difference is trivial in comparison with the lifetime personal and societal financial burdens of diet-related chronic diseases.”

None of this is okay. Low-income families should not have to sacrifice their health just to make ends meet.

But the good news is that this problem has not gone unnoticed, and there are some government-sponsored programs in place that are seeking to provide low-income families with more opportunities and incentives for healthy eating.

One such program was recently profiled by NPR. It's called Más Fresco ("Fresher" in English), and it rewards SNAP (food stamp) recipients for buying produce. For every dollar spent on produce, participants receive a "one-to-one" dollar match of more spending money. Participants can earn up to $40 in extra cash, depending which tier of the program they are enrolled in. The extra cash can only be spent on more fresh produce.

As NPR reports, The University of California, San Diego is in charge of administering the program, with funding from a $3.4 million grant from the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The USDA has funded other programs like this one in states such as Illinois, Kentucky, Georgia, Pennsylvania, Minnesota, New Mexico, and Vermont.

“We know food insecurity and, unfortunately, chronic disease go hand in hand,” Joe Prickitt, a UCSD dietitian and senior director of Más Fresco tells NPR. “For SNAP participants, there’s a real cost barrier to buying fruits and vegetables. They say they’re just too expensive.”

Here's how the Más Fresco program works.

Every time a participant spends a dollar on fresh fruits or vegetables, they receive a matched dollar amount that they can spend only on more produce. The limits are either $10, $20, or $40. The researchers who are studying the program randomly assigned reward amounts in an effort to figure out the optimal dollar level needed to make discernible changes in a person's diet.

The program has enrolled 1,153 participants since it began in February 2017. NPR reports that participants receive an average of $329 a month in SNAP benefits and come from families of 5 or 6 people, on average. The vast majority (90%) are Latinx. But you don't need to be Latinx to join.

As long as you are willing to shop at the participating stores (specifically Northgate Gonzalez Markets in Los Angeles, and in Orange and San Diego Counties) and meet certain criteria, you are good to go. In addition to the monetary incentive program, the program provides ongoing discounts on fruits and vegetables, as well as in-store education programs and healthy cooking classes for participants.

So far, as NPR reports, the program is getting positive feedback from its participants. And just last week, the program offered spots to 2,000 extra people, who will be able to participate and receive the incentive for the next year.

“The good thing is my family likes to try the new vegetables,” Rebeca Gonzalez, a participant in the program, tells NPR. “Now I can buy them because I have the extra money.”

That. Is. Awesome.

Low income families should not have to choose between having enough food to eat and eating healthy foods. We need programs like this everywhere, and pronto.

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I Know Not ALL Men Are Creepers, But I’m Teaching My Daughter They Are

Posted: 09 Feb 2018 06:00 PM PST

My husband and I have this argument pretty frequently. I assume the worst and prepare for it. Just in case. He thinks I should give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Because 98% of the time, nothing wild is going to happen. He’ll cite some statistic (that he’s probably made up on the spot) as proof that you’re more likely to get hit by lightning than your child is to be kidnapped. The odds are apparently 1 in 300,000 that your kid’s gonna get kidnapped (not counting the custody-battle type kidnappings).

Yeah, well, what the hell, we’ve got three kids, who cares if we lose one?

Nope. Sorry. Not going to let my kid run back to the car from the grocery store for my wallet at 6 years old. Not even “just real fast.” I know people are mostly good. But I’m not risking my kid. She’s too precious. I know that I can do everything right and prepare in every way — and something could still happen. I know. But I’m still going to try. Of course, I am. Even if the odds are 1 in 300,000.

So why the hell would I let her trust men?

Yeah, I know. That’s a pretty incendiary comment. It’s not especially open-minded. That’s definitely not the loving, kind opinion Jesus would have, huh? It’s a good way to breed a man-hater, right? I’ve thought a lot about this, though. When I was about 3 or 4-years-old, my mom taught me to do a funny little party trick. She’d ask me in front of her friends, “What do I always tell you about men?” And I would parrot, “All men are pigs, all they want is sex” in my sweet little toddler voice. Laughter ensued, big hit.

In my early twenties, I came to resent that little joke. Not that I was the punchline; I don’t care about that. But I hated that I generalized men to this baseline of revolting behavior. As a new adult, I could recognize that men were individuals. More than that, how appalled would I be if a man said the opposite about women? If he taught his sons that?! It’s just an absolutely horrifying thing to teach your kid.

But I don’t care.

Because I have three daughters. And the chances of each being sexually assaulted in her life are not 1 in 300,000.

It’s 1 in 6.

I don’t want my daughters to live in fear. I don’t want them to avoid relationships, platonic or romantic, with men. But I want them to not give a man their trust automatically. Because that may save them from being sexually assaulted one day.

If a good guy gets his feelings hurt because of that, I genuinely do not give one single hairy rat’s ass. Not one. Don’t blame me. Don’t blame the responses to sexual assault.

Blame sexual assault.

You want something to change in the way I, and other mothers, teach their kids to avoid being alone with a man they don’t know? To stop telling our kids to be careful on dates?  Want us to stop teaching them to lace their keys between their fingers while they walk to their cars? Do you want us to stop going to the bathroom in herds?

Change how sexual assault happens. Teach your kids about consent. Teach them that sexual assault can destroy a person’s life. Act out for harsher punishments for sexual predators. Make a genuine effort to stand up when someone is being skeezy, and maybe, just maybe, they won’t see that behavior as okay.

If you say nothing when Tom from accounting gives Pam a shoulder rub, even if she seems fine with it, then the line gets pushed a bit. And for every line that gets pushed a bit, there’s a kid who grows up thinking that it’s completely acceptable behavior, so what’s just maybe pushing it?

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.

I’m teaching my children about consent. That they can say no.  My goal is that my children will be able to recognize rape culture. That they’ll be able to reject it when they feel it imposed upon them. I’m talking about it, even if it’s uncomfortable.

And I’m telling them not to trust men implicitly.

To the good guys that are offended by that… What are you doing?

(P.S. No participation ribbons will be awarded for those saying “I’m not participating in rape culture.” You don’t get a prize for not raping people.)

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What I Want To Say To My Molester

Posted: 09 Feb 2018 06:00 PM PST

With all of the #MeToo stories in the news lately, it's getting harder and harder to stay quiet about my own #MeToo moments. There is no longer a reason to be shamed or embarrassed by these things, but more so there is an empowerment in each person's story.  So in that regard I would like to recount my experience and my thoughts and ask some questions along the way.  I've had this idea in my head that I was going to run into you in the store one day and cause a scene and say these things to you in person, but it would seem that you have moved away and, decades later, I'm done waiting to say these things.

When I was in elementary school I knew you as the older brother of one of my friends.  You were a teenager at the time while I was still in the single digits. She would always have these elaborate birthday parties and I was over at the house quite often. One of her birthday parties was a sleepover. After eating and playing Bloody Mary in the basement and scaring each other, we girls called it a night and crashed on the pull out couch.

I've always been a sound sleeper and it takes a lot to wake me up. Early the next morning you came and woke me up in the living room while everyone else was asleep. You told me to come with you because you were planning a special surprise for your sister as a birthday present. You took me into the back room and told me that we were going to stage a birthday play and that it was a big secret, which is why we were whispering and hiding and getting ready before everyone else was awake.  You told me to take all of my clothes off because you had to measure me for a costume.

I remember that I was wearing my Princess Jasmine pajamas that I had gotten for Christmas a couple of months before. The movie had recently come out and was popular and the pajamas were meant to look like Princess Jasmine's teal outfit. So I took them off and put them on the floor, and you took one of those clothing tape measures and "measured" me.

It could have been a lot worse, but let's just say that any seamstress or tailor that had done what you did would be out of business and doing time in jail at some point. It didn't take long. You touched me and tied the tape around me in ways I didn't understand at the time. When you were done, you told me to get dressed and go back to sleep on the couch because you had "things to do.”

I was confused because we hadn't practiced any lines or anything. You see, I really liked plays and even had the lead role during my 1st grade and 3rd grade school plays. Back then, I thought you were getting ready for the play for later. Now I realize you were most likely rubbing one out behind the closed door.

I went back to the pull-out couch and laid awake staring at the ceiling waiting for others to wake up.  When they did, the day continued on like nothing had happened and we prepared to have my parents pick me up and go home. I remember telling the others that I couldn't leave yet because you and I had to do our special surprise play for my friend/your sister. I kept insisting and no one knew what I was talking about, including you all of a sudden.

You see, it took me years to process what had happened. I didn't think to yell out, "Wait!  He took me in the back room and molested me!"  I just kept asking when I was going to get to be in the play.

I went home. I never told anyone. I thought, maybe I was mistaken about what happened?  You did say that it was a secret after all. Maybe we would do the play the next time I came over?  I blocked the incident out. Your sister and I drifted apart as friends and I stopped coming over and I don't really remember seeing you much after that anyways.

It wasn't until years later that I was actually watching an episode of Friends that my denial ended and it all clicked into place. Did you watch Friends? You may know the episode that I'm talking about. It's the one where Joey goes to get a suit made and he comments on how the tailor did some cuppage in an inappropriate area and everyone freaks out. While everyone was laughing at that moment on TV, it was like the memories came flooding back.  Everything.

I mean, it had always been in the back of my mind and I hadn't truly forgotten. I had just blocked it out, because why think about such things? At that point I had wanted to start to tell someone. But it had been so long. Did it even matter any more? Would you get into trouble? We were both minors then and we were both adults at that point. I still didn't say anything.

In fact, I never told a soul until I told my husband one night in a tear-filled confession of everything that had ever gone wrong in my life. Oh, and you weren't alone. You were only one of five males that would molest me over my childhood. So my husband got to hear about all of them. I'm pretty sure he still doesn't know how to process all of that information.

Now that I've recounted the information I have questions and statements for you.

1.       Why me?  I was not the only little girl at that birthday party.  Why did you choose me?  Did I seem more vulnerable than the others did? Had you already molested your sister before me? I've never asked her because if you had, why bring up those bad memories for her? Are there others? Was I just a one-time deal or is there a string of other children? I see that you have your own children now; do you molest them as well?

2.       Do you remember what you did? Or do molesters block things out too? Is that a thing? Blocking out your victims? Or are they good memories for you?

3.       I have my own children now and you have made me terrified for them. I won't leave them with babysitters. Even male family members freak me out in the same room as them if I am not with them, and even then, I still get nervous. If the same things were to happen to them, I think that I would fly into a rage and dismember whoever touched them.

4.       You ruined one of my favorite childhood movies for me. I used to love Aladdin. I still love that movie. But every single time I watch it, I get flashbacks of being naked in front of you with my Princess Jasmine pajamas in a pile on the floor. I really want to share Aladdin with my own children because it's a classic Disney movie, but I clench my teeth and look away a lot while we are watching it.

5.       I'm married now. I had a flower girl dress made special for my daughter to match my wedding dress. She was three at the time. I wouldn't let anyone else take her measurements for the dress. I insisted on doing it myself. I knew they were professionals, but no one was going near my daughter with a seamstress tape, so help me. All I had to do was measure her waist, bust, and height. But the flashes of memory wouldn't go away. How you dragged your measuring tape through my pre-pubescent vagina. I took the measurements as fast as I could and wrote them down and then I just sat and cried and cried for who knows how long. You ruined what should have been a special mother-daughter moment for me because you were a sicko.

6.       I hate you. Some people forgive their molesters or feel sorry for them. Not me. I. Hate. You. You have taken a part of my life away that I will never get back. I have flashbacks of memories that I don't want. You put them there in my head. I can only hope that your life will be ruined in some way that would be equal to what you did to me.

I think that it's time for me to start telling some of my #MeToo stories. Others deserve to know about you and others out there like you. They need to know that they can move on with their lives and go on to do great things too, despite what has happened to them. I don't have medical records or DNA samples or witnesses or other proof that would stand up in a court of law and mean jail time for you, but I do have a voice. A voice that others will listen to and at least understand. So this is me making my voice heard and I hope that you and so many others hear it.  It doesn't matter if it's immediately after or months or years or even decades after, these stories need to be told and people like you need to be called out for things you've done.

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3 Questions People Ask About Surrogacy

Posted: 09 Feb 2018 06:00 PM PST

Even though surrogacy technology and success rates are increasing, it's still a relatively uncommon thing and there's a lot of confusion about what's involved. I know, because I was a gestational surrogate (we called me the tummy mummy) for 9 months and I birthed a beautiful surrogate baby (sometimes called a surrobabe) for friends of ours.

I got lots and lots of questions before, during, and after the surrogacy from friends, co-workers, family and sometimes even strangers. But there were three questions that popped up time and again. They were:


I did it for love. You know that moment at the end of the day when your kids are asleep in their beds, but you go in to check on them just one more time to smooch their little faces and you feel so much love you think your heart might burst? That's why. I wanted to help another couple have a baby so they could have that moment. I'm lucky enough to have a supportive family, a healthy body, and a uterus that works well, so I let my friends borrow it for a bit. In our case, the baby's parents are both men, so they needed a little help from science and some selfless ladies (an egg donor and a tummy mummy).


When we decided as a family that we wanted to do a surrogate pregnancy and started doing some research, we quickly learned there's so much involved that we needed some professional help. So, we signed up with an agency that helped us figure out what steps to do in what order and managed a lot the paperwork part of things for us. After we matched with a couple who were also registered with the same agency, I essentially went through the same process as in vitro fertilization (IVF), minus the egg retrieval because I knew a traditional surrogacy (one that would use my own eggs) was not a good fit for me.

First, we tricked my body into thinking I was menopausal, so my eggs and my cycle wouldn't get in the way of all that science. Then, we tricked it into thinking I was already three days pregnant and transferred a frozen three-day-old embryo. And then, I had to keep taking medication and injections until my body caught up hormonally and could sustain the pregnancy on its own.

After that, it was pretty similar to my other pregnancies for my own kids – except there was more of everything. More anxiety, more morning sickness, more ultrasounds, more aches and pains, more food cravings and aversions, more vomiting, more weird questions from other people, more weight gain, more mood swings and tears, more trouble sleeping and walking and breathing, more heartburn, more varicose veins and, sadly, even more vomiting. It was my third pregnancy after all and I'm not as young as I once was and we were not using my genetic material this time, so I guess it's no surprise that some things were different.

I got pre-natal medical care in my area and the birth happened at a local hospital. My husband, doula, and one of the dads was with me (the other dad was on a plane trying to get to us as fast as possible because the baby decided to come early). We all stayed in the hospital for 24 hours and she went home with her very excited, very tired, very in love Dads.

And now the final question, because I know you're all wondering:

Would I do it again?

Yes. Absolutely, yes. Well, wait…let me clarify. If I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know now, I would (and not just because of that lovely hormone-induced forgetfulness that happens after birth). It was one of the most deeply profound, strange and surreal experiences of my life.

Even though it was really overwhelming and there were moments when it all seemed to be too much for me, I do think I'm a better person for having gone through it and I know for sure that the world is a better place for having one more loving, devoted family in it.  But, if someone asked me to be a surrogate again, I might vomit all over them.

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