TaylorOn Sunday our last day at the lake, I awake queasy as I have been since we left home. I slowly sit up, swing my legs over the side of the air mattress, then make my way to the hallway bathroom. I splash water on my face, while avoiding my reflection in the mirror. How has anyone not mentioned my flush face and neck this weekend? I take a Dramamine with a quick sip of water from the sink. I place the tiny bottle in my pocket, so I can take another if needed.“Good morning,” I greet Kennedy in the hallway. I block her path toward the stairs. “Are we okay?” Her eyes widen, her smile seems forced. “Last night, what was that about?” I need information; I want information. She is not escaping until I understand.“I’m not sure what you are talking about. Last night is a bit of a blur.” Kennedy speaks, but her eyes don’t convey the same emotion as her words. “I drank all day. I have a killer headache today. Don’t you?”“I didn’t drink much yesterday, due to the meds,” I remind her.“Wha
TaylorJust like any other day, I wake on Monday to a quiet house. I enjoy a light breakfast, complete cleaning tasks, then shower and prepare for my 11:45 doctor’s appointment. With an hour before I need to leave, I print off a new calendar for the refrigerator and a temperature tracking calendar for my room. Then, I save the old calendars in my top dresser drawer.I opt to stand as I wait for the doctor to enter my exam room. Already weighed, left a urine sample, and had my vitals recorded by a nurse, this should be a quick visit. We just need a new script of Clomid and to follow the same steps as the month before.Soon, the doctor enters, tablet in hand. He greets me. “How have you been feeling?” he asks.“We followed all the steps, and we think we’re ready to repeat them again this month,” I answer.He lays the tablet on the counter, looks me in the eye, and states, “That won’t be necessary.”I’m confused. I rack my brain for our conversation from the last visit. I’m sure we discus
BOOK THREE: THE CONFESSIONTaylorKennedy raps on my door before entering to place saltines and a glass of tepid water on my nightstand.Jackson peeks his head in, reminding me, “Text either of us if you need anything while we’re at work today.”I decide I’ll need to nip this over-protective hovering in the butt tonight.Kennedy texts me four times prior to noon. Jackson texts three times before 4:00. I’m happy they’re excited to be pregnant, but I can see why so many women and couples wait until the second trimester to announce a pregnancy.Surrogacy Journal Entry-Tuesday, August 23rd I am officially off the sauce. Of course, that means no more alcohol, but I’m referring to quitting Diet Pepsi cold turkey. No caffeine sucks big time. I realize it’s what is best for the baby and healthier for me, too. My new pregnancy diet feels like a metal chastity belt. Speaking of chastity belt, I am officially knocked up and won’t be having sex for the next 44 weeks. Pregnant for 38 weeks, then a
Taylor“Taylor, look at me,” she sternly directs, taking each of my hands in hers. “Deep breaths in-and-out through your nose. In-and-out slowly. Good. In-and-out. Perfect.” She releases my hands and excuses herself to fetch me water with a cold cloth from her private bathroom. “You are frustrated, and the hormones aren’t helping.” She pats my knee before returning to her seat. “I left the door open.” she motions to the restroom. “Feel free to use it anytime during our sessions.” The doctor jots quickly on her notepad. “We’ve made progress. Today, we found the triggers. We are closer to understanding these flashes.” Her smile seems forced. Looking at my journal, she continues, “Kennedy seems unaware of your reaction to the flashes when they occur.”It’s a statement and a question. I simply nod.“Twice you wrote, Jackson noticed your discomfort. When you return to the common areas, does he approach you?” It seems the good doctor is reading my notes thoroughly now.“He disappears for fif
TaylorFriday afternoon, I make my way one more time through the entire house before tonight’s party. Kennedy and Jackson did most of the heavy cleaning on Thursday evening. They insisted I only dust, unload the dishwasher and take it easy. My fatigue makes it hard for me to argue with them. Today, I spray air freshener, straighten vanities, and prep the kitchen for company. The activity taking its toll, I cuddle up on the sofa for a movie and a nap. I need energy well past my ten o’clock bedtime. Turning in early is my new-norm. As I stare unseeing at the television, I realize my exhaustion is much higher than I expected. I set an alarm on my phone to ensure I wake early enough to get dolled up for the guests. Normally, I don’t worry about impressing anyone, however, tonight I am at the center of the party. All eyes will be on pregnant Taylor and her non-existent baby bump.I startle at the cellphone alarm over two hours later. Once silenced, I slowly rise to a seated position. Mornin
TaylorOn the last Monday of August, I reset the oven timer for ten minutes. The taco-bake looks amazing. I start to close my recipe on the iPad but decide Kennedy might like to see the Pinterest pin. I place it on the island near the barstools and glance around the kitchen. I have plates, salad, utensils, water glasses, guacamole, and tortilla chips all ready. I just need my two friends to arrive home soon. Ask and I shall receive. I hear the garage door rising. I use my phone to lower the volume on the speakers. I leave Spotify playing in the background as Jackson enters while texting from the garage. “Have you heard from Kennedy?” He asks, and I shake my head. “I’m texting to ask why I beat her home tonight.”“I haven’t chatted with her. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” I reply. He excuses himself. “I need to change my work clothes.”“Kennedy is with Madison and won’t be joining us for dinner tonight,” he announces when he returns.“Seriously?” I shout. “Seriously!” I rant.
TaylorAt 2:00 in the morning, I lay on my bathroom floor with my head leaning on the chilly edge of the tub. Yesterday, I spent more time over the bathroom stool than usual. It became bad enough, I moved the ginger ale, water bottle, and crackers onto my dresser so I could attempt to nibble without leaving my bedroom area. I found walking caused dizziness, which led to nausea, and thus another visit to the bathroom. In my weakened state, I napped most of the day in my bed. Tonight, I attempt to sleep, but most of my night, I find myself on the bathroom floor. I’m not fighting it anymore. The cool tub feels good on my cheek and neck. I grab the towel off a nearby rack to use as a blanket. My stomach quiet for the moment, I close my eyes, hoping for sleep to rescue me. My headache grows worse with each passing hour.I wake when I hear movement on the stairs and then in the kitchen.“Hey,” I attempt to yell. My dry mouth, cotton tongue, and raw throat make talking difficult. “Help!” I b
TaylorAfter my ten minutes of worshiping the porcelain throne, I brush my teeth, shower, and dress for today’s obstetrics appointment. Choosing an outfit is simple. I only have one pair of shorts with an elastic waistband.I really need to shop for some new clothes.I am not ready for the maternity attire; I just need to purchase a size or two larger now or all elastic waists. Although I can see and feel my baby bump, it’s not apparent to others. It’s my goal to keep it this way as long as I can. The thought of my baby-bump drawing strangers to touch my belly already causes anxiety. I am not ready for that.I tug on my comfy navy linen shorts with the gently scalloped hem. I pair it with a simple navy and pale blue striped V-neck t-shirt. I opt for a ponytail and very light make-up. Comfy and casual will help calm my nerves for today’s appointment.As I slide my navy slip-on Converse upon my feet, a text from Jackson pings on my phone. Jackson: if change your mindJackson: can meet y
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