nobody wished me a happy mother's day
i'm not here to make you feel bad about it, it's just a fact.
Sorry, I had to hook you somehow and I knew that gut punch would do it. I’m not mad. In fact, I get it. I’m angry that nobody acknowledged me on my least favorite holiday and I’d be angry if somebody did acknowledge me. There is no way to win in my situation: it’s painful to be remembered, it’s painful to be forgotten.
Recently, I’ve been reflecting a lot in light of my 33rd year (today is my birthday, btw) and I have a new analogy for myself and others like me: we are canned-food drives in the shape of people.
Hang with me.
In my own deconstructing over the past several years, I read some books (edit: a single book) that have made me squarely anti-missions in the church. Whenever I hear about a mission trip now, I feel the biggest eye roll coming on. I can’t help it. It’s one of the most self-serving things Christians do.
If your house burned down, would you rebuild it yourself? Of course you wouldn’t, you’re not qualified to do that shit. So what makes you think you’re qualified to do it in South America?
Doing things for the poor is chic.
Soup kitchens need money, not your almost expired boxed stuffing from 7 Thanksgivings ago.
Shelters need money, not the clothes you accidentally shrunk in the wash so you’re donating them. (I’m not speaking from experience or anything….)
But it just doesn’t feel as good, does it?
I need $55,000 for a surrogate.
No one owes me that.
It’s just a fact.
I rolled the dice and got the shittiest luck imaginable for someone who wants to be a parent. That’s just where I am. It’s not fair, but fairness never entered the chat.
No one owes me anything.
But if you posted a meme of a flower bouquet on Mother’s Day and said you were “thinking” of people like me?
I bet that felt good.
^ Here I am shortly after giving birth on October 18, 2022. Nobody wished me a Happy Mother’s Day. Special shout out to LaserAway for the real-life miracle they’ve performed on my face-skin since this photo was taken.
How many people did you have to ask for money and permission from before deciding to try for a baby?
Oh, sorry—that’s a special circle of hell reserved for people like me.
Since IVF failed me (twice), surrogacy has become the path of least resistance for moving forward with my grade-A embryos—three little boys on ice.
(Yes, they’re all boys. Yes, I hope they become hockey players. Yes, I’ve wondered if I’m contributing to the white male population crisis. No, I don’t feel like I’m playing God.)
So, the next step is transferring one of these embryos into a womb that isn’t Auschwitz for fetuses.
Two surrogacy agencies in Dallas-Fort Worth immediately accepted me. (Of course they did—my story is heartbreaking, and the way I tell it is fucking hilarious.)
Then they quoted me…
...
$150,000.00.
And before you ask—no, “BYOS” (Bring Your Own Surrogate) doesn’t save you much. Maybe $5K, tops. Which is... insane.
Now, I’ve been incredibly lucky. I’ve had no shortage of friends and family offer to carry for me. And I’m deeply grateful. But it still doesn’t solve the core problem: coming up with the money to make this possible in the first place.
So, after making one agency rep feel appropriately bad over email, I turned to a more affordable option: international surrogacy. I connected with an agency in Mexico City and have had several consultations with them.
Here’s where things currently stand:
Embryo shipping (USA → Mexico): $4,900
Stage 1 Initial Payment (due at contract signing): $4,900
Stage 1 Deferred Payment (after heartbeat confirmed): $15,000
Refundable Medical Escrow: $4,000
Stage 2 Pregnancy Care (post-heartbeat): $8,650
Includes $4,500 paid to the surrogate over the pregnancy
Week 16 Payment: $2,850
Stage 3 Baby Delivery (Week 24 onward): $19,900
Total Program Cost:
$55,800 + shipping + medical escrow
So... it’s possible.
Just not what I imagined life would look like at 33.
Am I still blessed? Yeah.
Am I also angry? More than you know—and definitely more than you see.
Happy Mother’s Day.
And instead of circulating well-meaning memes, maybe Venmo your sad friends $55K.
(Just a thought.)
I know it’s been a long beat since my last newsletter, it’s been a crazy busy spring and I’ve also been meditating a lot about what I want this newsletter to be: is it a place for me to air my grievances? Share style advice? Drop 100 affiliate links like a spam bot?
I still don’t quite know, but thanks for hanging with me while I figure it out.
I just want to feel something.
(my new mantra - and how I get through life as a professional sad person)
^My blouse. My skirt. My vintage miu miu loafers came from Cure Thrift, my favorite vintage shop in NYC, whose profits benefit T1D research (a cause near and dear to my heart).
My relationship with New York is healing slowly. I will always love NYC and cherish the years I lived there, but I am still recovering from some rough years deep in the entertainment industry that left me with such a bad taste in my mouth.
I’ve returned to Gotham twice this spring and thoroughly enjoyed both visits. The secret, I’ve learned, is to overly romanticize my life and pretend I’m Carrie Bradshaw.
Do you know how it feels to get fully glammed-up for nobody but yourself and walk up and down Fifth Avenue carrying a tiny Chanel shopping bag? If you don’t, I highly recommend this as a self-care practice, so I’ve broken it down for you step by step:
Feel Something in New York™️
Dress like you’re going to work for Miranda Priestly. On my perfect day, I wore a white tee, black tights, long black pleated skirt, a lace trim cami layered over the shirt for fun, a red blazer, and black sock boots. Slicked back bun like the girlies.
Carry a shopping bag from a high-fashion brand as a lil accessory. At this moment, I don’t have $6,400 to spend on a Chanel 25 bag (8 and a half Chanel 25 bags = surrogate-born son) but I do have change to spare on a refill for my travel perfume carrier, so I stock up and walk out with the tiniest Chanel shopping bag garnished with a white ribbon.
Make an employee give you a tour of an expensive store. I popped into miu miu after my grocery run at Chanel and met the loveliest Sales Associate who I asked to show me all three floors. I saw several outfits Sydney Sweeney tried on the week before, some gorgeous shoes, some ugly shoes, and I loved them all. Didn’t buy anything (because I can’t) but got the phone number of my new Associate friend to keep in touch. Why? To feel something.
Eat at a department store. This has been my routine in NYC ever since Nordstrom finally opened in midtown. Nordstrom and Neiman’s have god-tier dining options, IMHO. And do you know how it feels to eat Salad With A Glass Of White Wine in the middle of the day? Incredible every time. On this last trip, my gorgeous, gorgeous boss took me up to have this fail-proof lunch combo at Bergdorf’s. Phenomenal. (you can read a blog post eerily similar to this one here)
Get lost in a museum. A solo MoMa trip is one of my favorite practices. But, Ally, what if I don’t “get” art? Um, respectfully, who cares? You’re gussied up in the MoMa holding a teeny tiny Chanel shopping bag looking pensive in front of a Warhol. Now imagine a passerby seeing you: impeccably dressed, obviously cultured, apparently rich. Euphoria. It’s cans of tomato soup. What’s there to “get”?
Score archive fashion at the thrift store. Shopping at Chanel and visiting miu miu and Bergdorf’s has you longing for more labels. Fortunately, New York has many cost-effective solutions for this. I popped into a few of my favorite vintage shops, extra-primed from my aspirational visits on Fifth Ave and education at the MoMa, and wandering around Cure Thrift, I found the miu miu loafers of my dreams, in my size. Such a satisfying find. I immediately snapped a pic and texted it to my new, Associate friend at miu miu. He was shooketh. As was I.
Have a drink in a bar with no exterior light and somebody who knows you really, really well. I met my longtime college bestie, Eean, for happy hour after my whirlwind of a day. He is in Hamilton (it’s a play). It had been a while since we’d had a proper catch-up so it was nice to have sherry and chit chat about everything going on in our lives for a couple hours. The best part about this company? Eean is somebody who I knew would validate every step of my picture-perfect day and he did. I can’t stress how important it is to end this process with a person who will appreciate your day of frolicking, do not go out for a drink with somebody who doesn’t understand The Vibe, you will not feel anything.
Eat a treat from the mini bar for dinner and go to sleep for 14 hours. Hotel mini bars options make absurdly expensive snacks, but extremely cost-efficient dinners. The Intercontinental had an entire jar of gummy bears waiting for me to devour before I crashed early around 10 pm.