Pregnant yet he was on Tinder!
the thing rob Young, 32, from gateshead, most wanted in life seemed to be impossible, till his best friend made an amazing offer…
Sitting on the sofa with my best friend Emma, 27, I was at rock bottom.
‘What am I going to do?’ I wept. Emma and I had been besties since we were 13. We shared all our secrets.
She was the first person I’d told I was gay.
And she was there, every step of the way, when I finally came out at 19.
So she also knew what a slushbag I was about kids. But that was hardly a secret. ‘Look at those chubby cheeks,’ I’d coo like a broody old hen whenever I saw a baby.
Even when I went on a date, I’d be honest.
‘I really want kids,’ I’d say. If they were scared off, at least I’d know they weren’t the right person for me. That’s why I was crying now. I’d hoped my ex and I would start a family, had even talked about surrogacy.
Now, it was all over.
The future yawned in front of me. Single, childless, terrifying.
That’s when Emma turned to me, looking serious.
‘I’ll be your surrogate,’ she blurted out.
I looked at her, shocked. Did she really just offer that?
‘Emma, that’s so lovely, but you can’t,’ I spluttered. ‘It’s too much to ask.’
Emma had an 11-month-old
Doctors warned it might not work but i couldn’t help hoping
son of her own to consider.
But Emma was already shaking her head.
‘I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it,’ she said. Now we were both crying. ‘You’re really the best friend ever,’ I sobbed.
Over those next few weeks, my bestie and I chatted through all the logistics.
Emma would simply be the carrier of the baby, with no genetic ties.
Using my sperm, we’d use IVF to fertilise an egg from an external, anonymous donor.
Emma was just the oven for my bun!
Finding a private clinic, I paid £3,000 for two rounds of IVF treatment.
Pricey, but I had a good job in marketing, could use the savings that I’d squirrelled away for a rainy day.
Then in June 2014, a donor egg was fertilised with my sperm. I held Emma’s hand as the embryo was transferred into her womb.
While doctors warned it might not work, I couldn’t help getting my hopes up. Emma was doing all the right things – not drinking, eating healthily.
But just seven weeks later, she appeared at my door.
‘I got my period,’ she said. ‘It didn’t work.’
Disappointment coursed through me.
‘We’ll try again,’ Emma said. So, just six weeks later – in October 2014 – we had our second round of IVF.
Only, this time, I refused to get my hopes up. Told myself I’d only try one more time if it failed.
Four weeks later, when Emma turned up at my door, I expected the worst.
Instead she thrust a little pink parcel under my nose.
‘What’s this for?’ I laughed as she came in.
‘Just hurry up and open it,’ she teased.
As I rummaged through the tissue paper, out tumbled two pregnancy tests. Both positive!
I turned to find Emma with a huge grin on her face, displaying her bare tummy.
And there, written in black felt-tip pen, were the words, Daddy, I can’t wait to meet you!’
Screaming, I grabbed hold of Emma and burst into tears.
‘You’re going to be an amazing dad,’ she said.
A little one of my own, finally on their way – I could barely believe it!
Things were a whirlwind after that.
There were doctors’ appointments and scans to attend, and I had to baby-proof the house. ‘It’s so exciting,’ I said when I went along with Emma to her first scan, saw the little blob moving on the screen. My little blob! While all this was happening, I kept my Tinder dating profile open. Well, it would be nice for this baby to have two parents! So I decided to update my profile to say, Daddyto-be.
If someone came into my life now, they’d need to know the score.
So when Sam and I matched in February 2015, I explained Emma was five months along. ‘Let’s just go on Beach babe: Little Emily now a few dates and see what happens,’ Sam replied.
And what happened was that we fell madly in love! ‘He’s great,’ Emma agreed. The most important seal of approval!
At 20 weeks, I discovered Emma was carrying a little girl.
‘I want to call her Emily,’ I said. It was a family name.
Finally, in June 2015, I was there holding Emma’s hand as my beautiful daughter came into the world.
After swaddling her in blankets, doctors passed her straight to me.
With her piercing blue eyes, she looked just like me.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered to Emma.
Now Emily, 3, is coming in to her own. Plenty of sass, but a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile.
She always tells me, ‘Daddy is my best friend.’
I’m Dad and Sam is Daddy. Charming, eh?
Sam and I are engaged, and who knows..? Maybe some time in the future, we can give Emily a little brother or sister.
With one embryo left in storage and Emma offering to be our surrogate again, it’s definitely on the cards.
She visits often, has a great bond with Emily.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay her for making me a dad, but I’ll certainly try.