I paid, and breakfast in hand, waited for her to make it through the checkout line. It was one of the only times, in all nine of my surrogate pregnancies, that I would pay for my own meal. The only other time was prior to the pregnancy when she and her husband went out for dinner with Doug and I after we met with the social worker.
In every other pregnancy when I ate with the baby’s parents, they insisted on paying. It was a kind, heartfelt gesture they all had extended to me and something I came to appreciate. At first it was awkward, after paying my own way through the first surrogacy, but then I realized that it was an important and intimate expression for the parents. When they nourished me, they nourished their baby, too.
Once I made that connection, I graciously accepted each meal.