Son was the dad?!
When I couldn’t carry a child, in stepped my hubby’s mum
Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for my first smear test.
I didn’t know what to expect, but all women had them, after all.
When the doctor examined me, he stopped suddenly.
‘You need an ultrasound,’ he said. ‘There’s a lump that needs checking.’
My mum, Teelaine, 50, raced us to hospital. There, tests found a tumour. ‘We’ll run some more tests,’ I was told. I went home, terrified. I was only 17… ‘What if it’s cancer?’ I wept to Mum. But there was more. As the tumour was in my uterus, I’d need a hysterectomy.
‘You won’t be able to have children,’ the doctor said.
I slumped, sobbing. I’d always wanted kids.
‘We’ll get through it,’ Mum reassured me.
In August 2006, I had a hysterectomy.
Thankfully, biopsy results showed it wasn’t cancer.
Mum and I both sagged with relief.
As doctors had saved my ovaries and I was still ovulating, I didn’t go into menopause.
Still, I grieved for the baby that I’d never have... Life went on. I left school, went to college. Then one day in 2009, my best friend invited me on a double date with her boyfriend and his mate Cody.
I’d known Cody from school, remembered him as nice.
But when I saw him again – wow!
Soon, we were in love, talked about the future.
‘I can’t have kids,’ I warned him, months on.
‘It doesn’t make a difference. I love you,’ he said.
I was grateful, but my urge to become a mum grew stronger.
In October 2012, we got married, talked about adoption and surrogacy.
Cody’s mum, Patty, 50, even joked about being our surrogate.
‘Ready when you are!’ she grinned one afternoon, stuffing a pillow up her jumper. We laughed. And four years on we were more than ready.
But we couldn’t ask Patty.
In February 2016, I called a cousin who’d said she’d be my surrogate when the time came.
‘This year’s tricky. I’m sorry,’ she said.
Disappointed, I understood.
And found myself researching stories of surrogate grandmothers.
‘I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to Mum,’ Cody worried. Of course, I agreed. We went to see Patty. Turns out she was way ahead of us.
‘It feels right,’ Patty told Cody and me. ‘I want to be your surrogate.’ She’d already discussed it with her husband Chris, 49, and Cody’s brother Blake, 25, and sister Lakin, 21. Everyone was behind us. In November 2016, Patty was checked out. ‘Your uterus looks perfect!’ the doctor said. He wasn’t worried that she was 50, told us we were good to go. When he left the room, we celebrated – shrieking, hugging, jumping around... Patty in her paper robe! In March 2017, we had the first treatment. The embryo – my egg, fertilised with Cody’s sperm – was transferred to Patty’s womb. It didn’t take. I was heartbroken but we rallied, ready to give it another go. It was hard on Patty, too. ‘I don’t want to let you down,’ she said. ‘If it doesn’t work, it’s not your fault,’ I said. On 27 April 2017, we had the second transfer. A few days later, we were due to have a pregnancy test. But I couldn’t
We were jumping around... Patty in her paper robe!
wait till the evening.
I called Patty, asked her to pee in a cup before leaving for work.
I raced over and picked up the cup from her front porch!
Me and Cody did the test. I couldn’t watch.
‘I think you need to take a look,’ Cody said. Two little pink lines. We were pregnant! We rushed to my parents’ house, told them the news.
Then we went to see Patty at her banking job.
She was pregnant and didn’t know it. Not yet… More happy tears! The rest of Patty’s pregnancy went smoothly.
Sometimes, I’d look at her bump and wish it was me.
But Cody would snap me out of it.
‘We have a kid coming, Kayla! It’s amazing!’ Cody said. He was right. It really was. And I was included in every appointment, every scan.
Patty was booked for a Caesarean section on 30 December last year.
It was a family affair, with Cody and Chris up by Patty’s head.
I stood behind the blue screen as I wanted to watch it all.
‘It feels like a dream,’ I said as the doctor pulled out our little boy.
Mesmerised, I watched as they washed and swaddled him.
Next thing, our son was in my arms.
Patty was exhausted, but smiling.
‘Your grandson is here!’ I beamed.
Kross Allen Jones was born at 6.01pm, weighing 8lb 2oz.
I bonded with him instantly. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t carried him.
Now I’m just like any other mum.
And Patty is a typical doting grandma!
Some people have been negative, reckon it’s ‘icky’ that my hubby’s mum had our baby. We ignore them. Our story is special. When Kross is older, we’ll tell him how he came into the world – with the help of his whole family.