Son was the dad?!

When I couldn’t carry a child, in stepped my hubby’s mum

Chat - - Contents - By Kayla Jones, 29, from Texarkana, Arkansas

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.

Could we?

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.

Pure magic.

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.

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