Until this pregnancy, at least one of my intended parents had always accompanied me to my doctors appointments. We’d meet in the waiting room and catch up while waiting for the doctor. If we hadn’t seen each other in the last month, they could see how my belly had grown and if we were lucky, the baby would kick and I could grab their hands and place them over the exact spot where their baby was moving. I never got bored of watching the excitement on their faces when this happened.
But the guys, they didn’t really want to come to my OB appointments, and something in me just let this be. Was it the fact that they were two men that allowed me to let this small, but important piece of my surrogacy experience drop by the wayside? Maybe it was the fact that they, in essence, weren’t “missing out on anything” the way a woman who was unable to carry for herself might feel? Or it may have been mostly petulance on my part, holding the opinion that I wasn’t going to coerce anyone who didn’t want to be there to hear their baby’s heartbeat to come to my appointments, if it wasn’t their natural inclination in the first place.