The search began for a family more suitable than that which we had created. Both Chaz and I are from single-child families, and we agreed that we’d like our little one to have a sibling. Although being financially well-off wasn’t essential, a family that was a bit beyond stable was definitely desirable. Some of the traits that we were looking for in a family included a love of animals, an appreciation for the arts, the desire to become world travelers, and access to a large city. With our minds as open as we could make them, we looked at hundreds of families over the next several months. We were searching for perfection. How could we demand anything less for our baby? We needed that crucial mesh of certain qualities, but we weren’t finding them. How could we? How were we supposed to choose a family to take our child? That act alone goes against everything in nature. That was the first time that I had to separate my gut from my mind in such a drastic way.

     As my body slowly transformed, my acceptance of our decision settled in. I knew the outcome. I tried to experience the situation from a scientific perspective- I had been given the opportunity to undergo the process of development and birth firsthand. For sanity’s sake, I attempted to keep the point of view of a surrogate mother: this isn’t my child, so don’t get attached. It was easy enough to keep that frame of mind for the first few months, until the being inside of me took on recognizable form.    

     Chaz and I were living in Las Vegas, Nevada, during this time. I detested the city and the majority of the surrounding landscape, but something there kept me hooked. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved good storms. Torrential downpours, thunder and lightening, wind running its fingers through my hair. I’d soak in the storms while grinning from ear to ear. Las Vegas has storms which fed my craving. One afternoon in mid-October, a storm moved in. I ran outside as the clouds gathered and the rain began. Standing in bare feet, I absorbed the earth’s power as the show started. Zeus hurled his medium through the sky, the electricity bounced around the atmosphere. Moments after the opening act, as I stood becoming one with the elements, I felt a flutter where my child was growing. It was unlike anything I had experienced—as if my stomach was just rumbling, but in an odd location. Then it happened again, and I realized that, for the first time, I was feeling my baby move within me. It was the most incredible sensation. We enjoyed the rest of the storm together. I couldn’t stop giggling and grinning and hugging my belly. I was feeling the connection more than ever before, experiencing our relationship in a whole new way.

     From that moment on, I could not continue the surrogate mother frame-of-mind. The role transformed into an act of sheer will & daily tests of strength. Ultrasounds were being done every month in order to track the health and development of the fetus. Chaz and I decided, when the time came, to be told the child’s sex. We figured that in case the yet-to-be-chosen adoptive family wanted to know, it would be better to be aware. On October 26, I went to a specialist for the five-month ultrasound. The office offered to record the ultrasound on VHS; there is a moment on the video, just after it shows the lens of the eye, when the blurry, B&W image is frozen, and next to three, faint gray lines, text appears at the same speed with which it was originally typed: G-I-R-L.