Taylor“What the...” I bolt upright, awakened from sleep by The Imperial March from Star Wars. Nervously, I scan the room. I’m in my room at Kennedy’s. My new blackout curtains keep the room perfectly cool and dark. Why is my cell phone alarm set for...I pick up my iPhone to see it is six a.m. “Too early,” I growl to the walls of my new home. As I replace my phone on the bedside table to retreat into slumber, I notice a print out.Oh yeah, today I start logging my temperature. I sat my alarm for six, so I could take it daily before Jackson wakes up for work. This way, when I’m ovulating, I can text him and he will still be at work on time. Barring any stage fright on his part at the collecting of his super-swimming sperm. I place the thermometer under my tongue. My eyes cross as I try to watch the digital readout climb. Instead of enduring the eyestrain, I focus on the ceiling while concentrating on the reason for this 6:00 a.m. interruption to my peaceful sleep. Becoming a surrogate
TaylorMy scream punctures the silence of the dark house; I sit up, gasping for breath. My hands feel around my neck repetitively.My bedroom light flicks on as Jackson darts to my side. He climbs in bed right next to me. His muscular arms wrap around me tightly. “It was a dream, only a nightmare,” he whispers into my hair while rocking me back and forth. “Just breath-in and out, in and out.”Kennedy appears moments later, climbing in on the other side of me. Tears fall from my eyes and down my cheeks.When will this end?Out of my life for three months now, John still torments me. He was violent when mad, always verbally and emotionally abusive, but he was never physical. In my nightmares, he escalates to the next level. I do not know what time it is. We fall to the pillows, no one speaks. Jackson holding me, the three of us fall back asleep.At six a.m. my alarm cuts into the silence. Today The Beastie Boys alert me it is time to be a model patient. As Jackson and Kennedy try to mak
TaylorKennedy jumps in for me, “Taylor had sex on the balcony at the frat house.”Crap! I forgot about that.“Details,” Reagan demands.“I...uh...I forgot about that one,” I sputter. “It was dark. The party spilled out onto the front lawn. I stood against the railing with a hot Division-One quarterback behind me. You know, the classic tall, blonde, muscles for miles, and hands...” I pause while I fondly recall those magical hands. “To an onlooker, we were watching the party below. Kennedy insisted on dressing me that night. We wore similar skirts with matching shirts. He had the back of my skirt lifted with his pants undone. He didn’t want anyone to know. I thought it was sweet that he couldn’t wait another minute to have me, but didn’t want to brag to the guys.” I lick my lips, the club evaporating around me. I’m transported back in time. “It was slow torture. I remember wanting to press myself back into him. He was so good. No good does not do him justice. He knew what he was doing.
TaylorI do my best to have dinner ready every night for Jackson and Kennedy. For dinner tonight, I choose to keep it simple. I placed three chicken breasts in the slow cooker at noon with a can of Rotel and a can of enchilada sauce. An hour before we eat, I shred the chicken easily with two forks. I open a bag of shredded lettuce, rinse it in the sink, then place in a bowl in the refrigerator. I open shredded Mexican cheese, placing it into another bowl. I move the salsa, sour cream, and guacamole beside the bowls, hoping not to forget to set them out as well.I open my iPad and Pinterest to find the recipe I saved earlier today. I mix the ingredients following steps one through eight. Finally, I add the fruit I soaked in peach brandy all day, before pouring my glass to ensure it is consumable. Holy buckets! It’s so good. I would love to add more alcohol, but Kennedy will drink it with a fruitier taste.My preparations complete, I snag my sangria and iPad, deciding to read in the fami
TaylorI enter Dr. Wilson’s office and assume my usual chair. I immediately open my journal before placing it on my lap. The doctor leaves her desk with a legal pad in hand to join me.“Good morning, Taylor,” she begins.I return her greeting, more nervous about this appointment than I was at my first. I promised myself to work on my relationship issues while in Kansas City. It is go-time, and I don’t know how to start.Dr. Wilson opens by inquiring about my thoughts about the group session.“You were correct. I need to open up to Jackson and Kennedy and ask for help occasionally,” I respond.Sensing my closed demeanor, instead of asking more questions, she motions for me to hand her my journal. I watch closely as she reads the list of goals I hoped to work on in counseling. She smiles at me before asking if she may read my journaling during the week. I allow her, knowing I only journaled once. This will probably disappoint her.“Your goals for our sessions,” Dr. Wilson begins. “I need
TaylorThe impending ovulation day quickly approaching, I opt for a special dinner. My tablet is open on the counter, I follow each recipe exactly. I have my phone timer, the microwave timer, and the oven timer set, ensuring I don’t forget any part of this meal. Filets warm in the oven, the slow cooker contains loaded potatoes with bacon and cheese, and a saucepan of green beans with bacon simmers atop the stove.The microwave timer signals my cheesecake chilling is complete. I pull it from the refrigerator, and I take my time decorating the top with strawberry slices, blueberries, and kiwi slices.My phone timer alerts me to turn down the oven until we eat. I reduce the green beans to low, then end the oven timer. Now I need Jackson and Kennedy to arrive before the filets dry out. I decide to text both.Me: I prepared special dinnerThis might encourage them to hurry home. It is now 6:45. Kennedy is usually home by 5:30 and Jackson is between 6 and 7. I thought I planned this meal per
Taylor“Wake me up before you go, go...” I turn my Wham alarm off. Today, I decide to wash my face and use the restroom prior to my temperature. As I wash my face in the mirror, I feel butterflies in my tummy. I might be ovulating today.I assume the peeing position on the toilet, I’m reminded of my tenderness discovered during the night. Moving through the soreness, I check my underwear as I conduct my morning business. I rub my index finger over the creamy white discharge on my cotton panties. I pinch my finger and thumb together, then apart as the internet stated. The consistency is sticky and stringy. Shit! This is a sign I might be ovulating. Oh crap! Oh crap! I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for this. I quickly log my mucus observation, then place the thermometer under my tongue. I’m too nervous to I sit on the bed, I pace to the bathroom, to the door, and back with my aching thighs. I am afraid to look after the beep. If it is up, I will have to text Jackson, letting him k
TaylorReluctantly, I join him at the table.“What is up?” He asks.I shake my head back and forth.“Song of the day time,” he announces.Shit! He doesn’t play fair. I’m feeling all kinds of awkward and confused, and now I have to sum it up in a song. Closing my eyes, I attempt to focus. I can’t find the perfect song. I grasp the first lyrics I can. Instead of summarizing, I recite a line of lyrics from the end of Total Eclipse of the Heart. “Once upon a time...”As I continue the line lyrics, Jackson shakes his head.I continue the lyrics, “But now...”Kennedy chimes in, “sounds emo to me.”Nothing from Jackson, so I finish the song.“Bonnie Tyler, Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Jackson proclaims proudly.“I thought if you stated the title in the lyrics, it didn’t count as getting it right,” Kennedy bursts Jackson’s bubble.I sense Jackson is going to ask me to explain how those lyrics make me feel today. I awaken from my awkward numbness and take control. “Okay, so we did ‘The Deed’ th
TaylorMy mind scrambles for words.Ready?Ready for what?Our first kiss was everything I fantasized about this past year and then some.Is he ready to sleep together?I’m not sure I am ready for that tonight.Our kiss proves our electric passion for each other. I stand in front of him, as he’s seated on his bed; I move between his knees.“I’m ready to explore us too, but I want to go slow.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry. “I need to go slow. We have too much on the line to jump into this.”Jackson nods his understanding.To show my desire for him, I place feather-light kisses on his jaw. He places his hands on each side of my face, guiding my lips to his. This kiss is hotter than the first. Our hands explore arms, shoulders, ribs, hips, and chests.I lift my legs to straddle his lap, aligning my pelvis with his. The heat from his cock exquisitely flows to my core. His hands on my hips grind me into him, and I moan. I continue the pressure as he moves his mouth to my jaw, then
Two Years LaterTaylor“What time is it?” I ask the room.“Twenty minutes after the last time you asked,” Martha teases.“We have five minutes,” Elizabeth announces to everyone. “Taylor, might I have a moment?” She inquires, escorting me onto the balcony for a modicum of privacy. I thought my nerves had reached a pinnacle; a private chat with Elizabeth escalates them even higher. Gerald and Elizabeth arrived with us three days ago to assist with the preparations and the twins. We shopped, dined, and even swam.What will she discuss now, with less than five minutes until we start?Why didn’t she talk to me before now?“You look beautiful, dear,” Elizabeth says. “For many years now, Gerald and I have thought of you as our daughter. Today, you make that official.” She dabs a tissue to the corner of each eye, not wanting her tears to ruin her makeup. “You brought our son back into our lives, you gave us two precious grandchildren, and today you give us the happiness and future we always d
Taylor “Taylor!” Jackson summons loudly from upstairs the next evening.I recap my water bottle before attempting the epic struggle that is rising from the sofa post-cesarean. I peek at the sleeping twins before I slowly and painfully ascend the fourteen stairs from the living room to the second floor. Jackson wouldn’t require me to trudge upstairs if it wasn’t important. I pass the bathroom doorway as it is dark inside. The master bedroom door is open, but no lights are on. I notice light entering the hallway from the nursery. I place my hand on the door frame for support.Jackson sits on his knees at the open nursery closet door. I see no spurting blood, signaling a need to yell at me.“What’s so important I had to climb the stairs?” I immediately regret my icy tone.Jackson turns, rising to face me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think. I just found the bag and reacted. Are you okay? Want to sit in the rocker? I should have brought it down to you.”I regret my words even more now seeing t
TaylorGroup Session at Dr. Wilson’s OfficeMonday, May 22 “Thank you for securing a sitter and meeting in my office today,” Dr. Wilson greets. “I’ve asked a colleague to join us today. This is Dr. Jacobs.”“Dr. Jacobs, please meet Jackson Hayes and Taylor Taft.” After shaking hands, we take our chairs.“Are you leaving your practice or passing us off?” I question.Why else would she have another professional sit in on our session?“Our topic of today’s session is delicate. I recently shared a situation with Dr. Jacobs. Through our discussion, we decided we should both be present today.” Dr. Wilson assumes her usual chair, pulls out a manila file folder, and begins. “As you are both aware, I met with the two of you and Kennedy individually throughout the surrogacy process. I did not share items from one session with the others, as privacy is vital in the therapy journey.” She smiles at both of us before continuing. “The two of you shared a similar issue with me in your sessions. I ha
TaylorThe doorbell wakes me from my nap. Who could it be on a Wednesday? I slowly rise from the sofa and glance at the sleeping twins in their nearby bassinets on my way to the front door. Through the peephole, I spy Dr. Wilson.Did I forget an appointment?“Hello,” I greet. “Taylor.” Dr. Wilson wraps me in a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry. I read about Kennedy’s passing in the paper. May I come in?”I’m frozen in place. Seeing Dr. Wilson away from her office catches me off guard. She is here to talk about Kennedy’s death.I’m not strong enough to work through this now with her.“Taylor,” Dr. Wilson prompts. “If this is a bad time, I can come back.”“No!” I announce louder than needed. “Come in. I just woke up, so I am a little out of it,” I confess, excusing my actions.“Resting when the twins rest is important,” Dr. Wilson states. “How have you been feeling?” She seats herself on the end of the sofa nearest the still sleeping babies.“Overwhelmed, but I’m sure all new mothers experience
TaylorIt’s Sunday morning, Jackson’s second day back at work. Elizabeth and Gerald are still in town, thank goodness. I climb from bed a bit easier this morning, my pain lessens with each passing day. I peek into the living room to ensure Elizabeth and Gerald are with the twins before I slip into the restroom. I enjoy a few extra minutes to freshen up; then stride toward the kitchen in search of breakfast. My appetite grows every day. I’m told it’s because I need extra energy for nursing.“Good morning,” Gerald greets from the sofa as I walk by.I return his greeting, noting he holds both twins in his lap. I climb upon a kitchen stool.“How’d you sleep last night?” Elizabeth asks, sliding a plate of sausage and tater tots my way. As I rise, she pushes my shoulder down and fetches the ketchup for me.I am very glad they put everything on hold to help Jackson with the funeral arrangements and me with the twins, but eventually I need to do everything on my own. She pampers me too much; i
Taylor“Did you halt the mail delivery while you were in the hospital?” Gerald inquires.My eyes widen. We should have, but we did not.“I’ll walk Nya to the mailbox and back,” Elizabeth offers quickly. “You need to rest and Gerald, you need to sit still so the twins can nap,” she teases her husband.When they return, Elizabeth releases Nya from her leash. She immediately darts to Gerald’s feet. She stands on her hind legs to ensure the twins are safe in his care. Next, she whines at the side of the sofa, wanting me to lift her to my lap. This simple task requires planning on my part. One cannot simply bend over and pick up an eight-pound puppy two days after a C-section. As I cuddle and coo Nya on the sofa, Elizabeth uses kitchen scissors to open a small package. She asks me if she should look inside or wait for Jackson. My eyes remain on Nya as I give Elizabeth permission to open it.Sensing a change in her mood, Nya hops from the sofa to join her at the kitchen island. My eyes foll
TaylorI behave like a perfect patient, and the doctor releases me on Sunday afternoon. As we round the corner, Jackson’s home comes into view. A large sign with balloons attached graces the front lawn, welcoming Carter and Kennedy home.“No, no, no,” Jackson chants. “I told Madison not to tell the neighbors. I can’t handle a party. This is not a time to party.” It might be easy to let his words upset me. The twins are to be celebrated. They are tiny, precious, bundle of joys. However, I completely understand Jackson’s need for privacy. The passing of his wife at the same time his twins are born takes its toll. “I will thank everyone for coming and send them on their way,” I offer. “I’ll fake fatigue.” Not that it would be much of a stretch. I’m exhausted; the thought of relaxing on the sofa or in my bed is my only goal.As Jackson pulls the Mustang into the garage, Gerald and Elizabeth park behind it in the driveway. Jackson opens my door for me and extends his arm to assist me to s
TaylorEmotions somewhat in check, Jackson continues. “Taylor opened her door then yelled to wake me up. I got out and went to help Kennedy. Taylor’s water broke, so the EMTs drove the two of us here, while the fire department extricated Kennedy.” At his mother’s audible gasp, Jackson pauses, and Gerald reaches for his wife. “Taylor was in active labor when Kennedy arrived at the hospital. The babies were in distress, so she was prepped for a C-section. When Taylor went to recovery and the twins to the nursery, I signed forms for Kennedy to have surgery to stop her internal bleeding.” Jackson releases my hand and stands. “Taylor and the twins got settled here while Kennedy had a second surgery.”“It was a long emotional night,” I add, hoping to give Jackson some support in this emotionally tragic story.“This morning, Taylor decided she needed to go down. She paged nurses, insisting they wheel her down to see Kennedy. She didn’t take no for an answer.” Jackson’s Adam’s apple visibly bo