“It’s an option, with a lengthy, grueling process, but you know what Ellie wants. I don’t think she’s ready to give up her dream of having a baby that is biologically ours.”
My throat closes in on itself when I think about Ellie’s determination to have a baby. Not just any baby, though I’m sure she would love an adopted baby as her own. She wants a baby that passes down her genes, the genes that our parents gave us. She wants to tell her baby about our parents and say you’ve got Grandma Diane’s long eyelashes, same as ours, or Papa Jim’s laugh, boisterous and contagious. She wants a piece of what she lost. And there’s no way I can fault her for that.
When our parents died, my dad’s sister, Margaret, came out from Iowa to help us with the funerals, to sell the house and figure out all the insurance and financial stuff that followed. She sorted and boxed up their belongings, putting the majority of what we decided to keep in storage, and donated the rest. After a month, she had to get back to Iowa and her own kids. She would check in on us periodically, but as time passed, we fell out of touch. It’s not like we were little kids that needed to be taken in, but it was still a shock at twenty-one to suddenly feel the real-life burden of not having the parents that loved and supported us to turn to anymore. Ellie was far better at the adjustment than I was. Or at least she appeared to be.
I’m used to Ellie being the one with a solution to a problem. I feel helpless. But, I know if the roles were reversed, Ellie would figure out a way to help me.
“Josh, how can I help? I want to support you both.” I sit in the chair opposite to him hoping there is something I can do.
“Man, Brooke, if I only knew.” He takes another swig. “I’ve been thinking about taking Ellie on vacation, impromptu to somewhere warm and exotic, somewhere she’s not thinking about babies. I don’t know.”
He is such a good guy, looking out for my sister. “That’s a good idea, I can manage things here if you need. Just let me know how I can help.”
There’s more to say, I just don’t know what it is, but I can tell that Josh isn’t exactly in the mood to talk. He’s in his own thoughts and needs time to process. I leave Josh staring at his beer bottle, and gather my purse to head home.
One thing is for certain, I’m determined to solve this problem for Ellie.
* * *
Back home in my apartment, I change into cotton shorts and a tank top after a hot shower, and grab a bubbly water.
Juggling my laptop and drink, I curl up on my sofa. When I’m staging a home, especially the modern, new-build condos that I’ve been working on recently, I have to keep the décor fairly neutral to make the space approachable to the greatest number of buyers. I add in a few pops of color here and there to make each space unique, but my apartment is a true reflection of my style, and my desire to be surrounded by color.
My apartment, with its dark blue walls that offset the vibrant pinks and greens of floral paintings and the fuchsia mid-century modern sofa, appeals to me. It has been my favorite project.
After I learned I wasn’t allowed to have animals in my apartment, I took to collecting plants. I found a large tiered plant shelf at a thrift shop and painted it gold. I’ve got at least ten plants now, mostly succulents because they’re low maintenance, and they can handle it if I forget to water them.
If it’s Ellie’s uterus that is the issue, maybe she could have mine. I don’t plan on using it. It seems like a waste of a good uterus. If it’s good, I mean. Maybe I have a defective uterus, too. Who knows?
I discover that it’s not really a thing to exchange uteruses. Since a woman’s uterus is not a vital organ, it’s not commonly transplanted. Instead, couples struggling to get pregnant, in which cases the egg and sperm are healthy, can hire a surrogate to carry their baby. A uterus rental program. I’ve seen television shows and movies depicting this so I knew it was a thing. But when I see the cost to hire a surrogate, I nearly fall off my sofa.Eighty thousand to one hundred fifty thousand dollars. Not only is that sum insane, but why is there a range? Are there premium upgrades to a woman’s uterus? I keep reading to find out the cost is dependent on where you live and the availability. That makes more sense. A chart informs me that in Colorado, surrogates charge about one hundred thousand dollars on average.
I trade out my laptop for my phone, and get sucked into social media. Instagram is like a portal to another dimension; it sucks you in so deep until you have no idea how to get back to where you came from.
But, it’s also very informative.
There’s a couple who just had a baby via surrogacy. She’s an influencer so every detail of their journey is documented, along with all the products they use. I make a mental note to try the plant-based deodorant she suggests. It comes in a refillable case which is also good for the environment. Before I know it, I’m checking out pictures of her and her husband’s vacation to the Bahamas. See, that’s the problem with social media.
Flipping back to her Instagram story about the surrogacy, I see their photos and they look happy with their new baby so that’s pretty cool.
She must have sold a ton of plant-based deodorant and energy drinks in order to pay for her baby!
I check my savings account which is growing steadily, but is nowhere near any substantial amount that would help Ellie and Josh. I wonder if people take out loans for this kind of thing? Like a thirty-year mortgage for a kid? It would be a bit depressing to still be paying off the loan that paid for your surrogate to have your baby when the kid goes off to college. Josh is money savvy so he probably knows about all of this. I wonder if I should ask him about it?
I grab my phone to text him then think better of it…it’s two A.M. and maybe this is something you don’t text. I can’t pay for Ellie’s baby but there’s got to be something else that I can do for her.
With an idea forming in my head, I finally put down my phone and go to sleep.
3
Brooke
The next morning, I call Ellie to see how she is feeling. She’s hungover, a rare occurrence, so she’s hard to motivate, but I eventually convince her to agree to a shopping outing. I’ve got a few returns to make, impulse purchases that were not bank account friendly. Although I love them, I really can’t justify another pair of Tory Birch flats.
I pick Ellie up around ten then we head to the Cherry Creek Shopping Mall. Ellie’s not much of a shopper, so it’s typical for most of her purchases on our shopping excursions to be influenced by me. I think back to the days when we would do our big back-to-school shopping trip with our mom every fall, and I’d always try to get Ellie to be interested in clothes that I liked, hoping to add more trends to our combined closet.
After we stop at Nordstrom to do my return, I steer us to the Everything But Water store to look at swim suits. If Josh does want to take Ellie on a beach vacation, she’s going to need something other than the black one-piece she’s been wearing for the better part of a decade. I really didn’t know that swim suits could last that long. I’m also itching to try on the tie-dye bikini in the window.
Just as we’re entering the store I hear a little boy say, “Look, Mommy. There are two of the same people over there.”
