Heterosexual Couple From Tunbridge Wells In United Kingdom Looking For Surrogate Mothers

Cheryl Heterosexual Couple Profile

Date Registered: 04 Oct 2013 Last Modified: 04 Oct 2013 Last Signed In: 07 Oct 2013

Added To 0 Favourites Couple Signed In 1 Times Been Sent 17 Intro Messages

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Brief Summary Of Heterosexual Couple

Heterosexual Couple From Tunbridge Wells In United Kingdom Looking For Surrogate Mothers Between The Ages Of 25 And 40 And Must Be In Good Health.

Contact Information For This Heterosexual Couple

Name:	Cheryl
Email Address:	Unlock With Full Membership
Phone Number:	Unlock With Full Membership
City:	Tunbridge Wells
Region:	England
Country:	United Kingdom

Heterosexual Couple Information And Surrogate Requirements

Nationality:	British
Race:	Caucasian
Couple Type:	Heterosexual Couple
We Smoke:	No
We Have Had Surrogate/Donor Before:	No
Willing to Travel:	Yes
Medical Expenses:	Up To 15000 Pounds
Number Of Children:	1
We Are Looking For:	Surrogate Mother,
Aged Between:	25 To 40 Years Old
Country Surrogate/Donor From:	United Kingdom
Nationality Of Surrogate/Donor:	British

Why We/I Want A Surrogate Mother, Egg Donor Or Sperm Donor:

I cannot sustain a pregnancy after a complicated first preganancy via IVF. I have had a still birth, 3 miscarriages, 4 chemical pregnancies, 10 rounds of IVF.

Description Of Us:

Barrie and I are a very frienldy easy going and outgoing couple. We've been together for 22 years and have one son, Ruben. We enjoy socialising with friends, music, reading, gardening, exercise (him cycling - me spinning - if I have to!). Ruben is 5 and has lots of energy! Keeps us on our toes!

My Letter To Surrogate Mother, Egg Donor Or Sperm Donor:

So….we’re pretty new to all of this…but here goes! Bit of background in case of use… Barrie and I (Cheryl) met when we were still at school in North Wales. He was 16, tall and olive skinned, I was 17 and keen on him. I don’t think either of us thought things would get as serious as they did but then you can’t really choose when you meet “the one” – it just happens. We moved to Manchester for university and then subsequently to London for work. We had a great time in our twenties in London. I worked in marketing and he worked in design. We made the most of the capital in our late twenties. However, after checking London house prices (ouch!) we decided to move out to Tunbridge Wells in Kent where I had landed a job. We had “starting a family” in mind. By this stage we’d had 10 happy, lucky years together and I had a gut feeling we were due some bad luck, and wondered if this would be in relation to having a baby. In 2000 (aged 27) two things happened to Barrie. He started his own business in Digital Marketing, which he still runs (and I work with him in it). He was also diagnosed with testicular cancer. Within two days of being told, had a testicle removed. It was a huge shock, but he was told it was one of the “better” cancers and full recovery rates were good. He worried about his fertility but, with no radio or chemotherapy, was assured he would be fine. We started trying for a baby, but after 6 months I just had a feeling something was wrong. I’d felt poorly and had some pains. I went for investigations and was found to have endometriosis and endometrioma (blood filled cysts on my ovaries). We were told our only chance to have a family would be via IVF. Again, it was a shock but we got on with it. I had a laparoscopy to remove as much “endo” as possible and we had a couple of cycles of ICSI in our own county, with no success. In fact, the consultant said there was nothing more he could do. It sounded to us like he was saying “you’re not going to have any children”. Unsurprisingly, we were rather “flat” for a couple of weeks after that. Then we decided to fight on and had three consultations at other clinics – two in London. They said they could help us and, amazingly, we fell pregnant on our first ICSI cycle with the Lister clinic in London. I was 34 by now and Barrie 33. At the first scan we were overjoyed (and shocked – again!) to find out we were having twins. The news took a while to sink in, we got to 12 weeks fine, at 16 weeks found we were having a girl and a boy, and as the weeks went by started to buy the odd few bits of clothes, order a pram, think about names (decided Layla for our daughter, struggling still for a name for our boy), paint their nursery. I was incredibly excited to be having boy/girl twins. I’d always wanted two children and a boy and a girl felt right, as I have one brother myself. It’s what I knew from my family. They both started to move and hiccup and we were so happy. But then at about 25 weeks there were concerns about growth rates and they were diagnosed with Intrauterine Growth Retardation, meaning they were very small for their dates. Scans increased but they weren’t worried, as there was absolutely nothing wrong with them. Barrie just put me on a high fat diet of creamy puddings and pies. I wasn’t complaining! Then, during a scan at 30 weeks (I was huge, only 7 weeks to go until my C section) we noticed that the sonographer had gone very quiet. After a while, and a lot of hard scanning, she said “there’s no point in me not telling you – there is something quite badly wrong with your girl”. She went to get the consultant. I got off the bed but felt faint and had to put my head between my knees, which was hard because I was huge. Later that day it was all confirmed: she was extremely ill and her brain, for some reason, had filled with blood between this scan and the last one. It was extremely unusual. We were told in no uncertain terms that her outlook was “very poor”. I was in a daze. It’s hard to go into the detail of those following weeks. They told me she would pass away but that I would have to continue to carry them both until birth at 37 weeks. This felt horrific. I couldn’t leave the house. I couldn’t look at my bump. It was an unimaginable situation to be in. We couldn’t believe it was happening. A fortnight of surreal life followed with endless scans and checks and tears. She died at 31 weeks and I carried them both for a further two weeks after that, dazed and confused, not leaving the house, bereft. Pregnant with one child alive and one who had died. Then a scan revealed the amniotic fluid around our son had dried up and they needed to bring the C section forward. Which they did on the Friday: she came first (no cry) then him (quiet at first, then a cry). He was on the special care baby unit downstairs; she was in the mortuary in the basement. We were in the suite for people who have had a stillbirth, but we had a son. It was very confusing. We were completely in love with our son at the same time as we were grieving badly for our daughter. The intensity of those emotions was equal. It is hard to explain how it feels to be a new parent at the same time as outliving a child. We buried Layla on Christmas Eve 2008 and our son, Ruben, came home with us on New Years Eve, after four weeks in special care trying (and finally succeeding) to breast feed our 3lb baby (which I carried on until he was 10 months). I hadn’t been too concerned about breast feeding but I changed my mind on that when I realised it was the one thing I could do while the nurses looked after him most of the time. Layla’s post mortem was completely normal. Not a blot on it. There was no real identifiable reason why she was so poorly and had the blood in her brain. This left us frustrated and lost. But we got on with loving our son. However, she has never, and will never, ever leave our thoughts. Time went by, as it does when you have a newborn. We managed not to become depressed. We were busy raising and loving Ruben. I also sought the help of my screening midwife on the occasions I could not cope with the loss of Layla, and the loss of our promised twins family. I struggled rather badly, and still do, on certain anniversaries. She was diagnosed around fireworks night, and now, hearing fireworks brings that sick, horrified feeling back inside me (and I used to love fireworks!). The anniversary of her death is hard too. Then we have his (their birthday), and not long after that, Christmas Eve, which gets easier each year. When Ruben was about 18 months we decided to try for another baby. We’d always wanted two children. Now we saw it was as much for Ruben to have a sibling as it was for us to have a completed family. Unfortunately, we went on to have rather a lot of bad luck. Seven failed rounds of IVF: 3 missed miscarriages (10 weeks, 7 weeks, 6 weeks), 3 chemical pregnancies and a negative. It’s pointless going into the detail here. Suffice to say the embryos try to stick but can’t seem to manage it. Why? Who knows? The experts certainly don’t. We’ve had every test under the sun, another laparoscopy, hysteroscopy, IVF in London, Greece, the Czech Republic. Immunotherapy including blood transfusions, steroids (which sent me high as a kite, then very, very low) soya transfusions, I gave up gluten (as it’s linked to miscarriage). We even tried Chinese herbs, which had some very interesting effects for us both (!) but ultimately did not deliver the sibling we wanted. IVF rumbled on in the background but life very much carried on in the foreground, and still, of course, does. We love spending time together, the three of us, and have a wide circle of friends and neighbours we see often for barbecues, play dates, gatherings. There’s a lot of local support in place, which has developed over the years and is most comforting, as our parents still live in North Wales. Ruben sees his grandparents and uncle and aunty as often as we can get up there (or them come down here) and we visit Barrie’s sisters and their families in the Midlands whenever we can. We love weekends at the park, swimming pool, getting absorbed into Lego or watching TV snuggled in bed on a rainy day. Ruben is a very energetic little boy and keeps us right on our toes! So here we are. Life definitely goes on…but it feels very unfinished in terms of our family. There’s a powerful need in us to have a second child, for us and for Ruben to have the love and support of a sibling in his life. But there’s definitely something wrong with my uterus, my “baby room”. A doctor has recently owned up to thinking surrogacy might be a strong option as our embryos always look good. We had considered it two years prior but they’d said “no no, try again!”, which we dutifully did. That is behind us now and we’d love to move on to a new and successful chapter with surrogacy. We’re hoping beyond all hopes that there is an amazing woman out there, willing to help us. That she maybe somehow understands that, in spite of loving every cell in Ruben’s nearly 5 year old body, our family does not feel complete. It’s not about replacing Layla. She can never and will never be replaced. But we do want one more child. We have much love to give. Warmest wishes and thanks for reading :-D Cheryl & Barrie