TaylorSaturday morning, I sit up slowly from my air mattress. Rising from its edge, I sway on my feet. I steady myself, hands on the wall. Carefully, I slowly stride down the hall to the restroom, where I brush my teeth, wash my face, and brush my hair. Still feeling dizzy, I attempt blowing my nose, then yawning to pop my ears. I try the remedies that usually give me relief with no success.I lightly pad my way downstairs to the kitchen. I place two slices of bread into the toaster, while I find butter, jelly, fruit, yogurt, and a Diet Pepsi. Sitting at the breakfast bar, I nibble on my breakfast while I scan my social media accounts. Deep in thought, I do not hear Kennedy approach. I jump when she touches my shoulder.“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Anything interesting on Instagram?”I shut my phone, placing it on the counter next to me. The toast filled me up, so I slide my fruit and yogurt Kennedy’s way.“I heard a noise in Reagan’s room and Jackson is also up,” Kennedy tells me. “Won’

TaylorOn Sunday our last day at the lake, I awake queasy as I have been since we left home. I slowly sit up, swing my legs over the side of the air mattress, then make my way to the hallway bathroom. I splash water on my face, while avoiding my reflection in the mirror. How has anyone not mentioned my flush face and neck this weekend? I take a Dramamine with a quick sip of water from the sink. I place the tiny bottle in my pocket, so I can take another if needed.“Good morning,” I greet Kennedy in the hallway. I block her path toward the stairs. “Are we okay?” Her eyes widen, her smile seems forced. “Last night, what was that about?” I need information; I want information. She is not escaping until I understand.“I’m not sure what you are talking about. Last night is a bit of a blur.” Kennedy speaks, but her eyes don’t convey the same emotion as her words. “I drank all day. I have a killer headache today. Don’t you?”“I didn’t drink much yesterday, due to the meds,” I remind her.“Wha

BOOK THREE: THE CONFESSIONTaylorKennedy raps on my door before entering to place saltines and a glass of tepid water on my nightstand.Jackson peeks his head in, reminding me, “Text either of us if you need anything while we’re at work today.”I decide I’ll need to nip this over-protective hovering in the butt tonight.Kennedy texts me four times prior to noon. Jackson texts three times before 4:00. I’m happy they’re excited to be pregnant, but I can see why so many women and couples wait until the second trimester to announce a pregnancy.Surrogacy Journal Entry-Tuesday, August 23rd I am officially off the sauce. Of course, that means no more alcohol, but I’m referring to quitting Diet Pepsi cold turkey. No caffeine sucks big time. I realize it’s what is best for the baby and healthier for me, too. My new pregnancy diet feels like a metal chastity belt. Speaking of chastity belt, I am officially knocked up and won’t be having sex for the next 44 weeks. Pregnant for 38 weeks, then a

TaylorFriday afternoon, I make my way one more time through the entire house before tonight’s party. Kennedy and Jackson did most of the heavy cleaning on Thursday evening. They insisted I only dust, unload the dishwasher and take it easy. My fatigue makes it hard for me to argue with them. Today, I spray air freshener, straighten vanities, and prep the kitchen for company. The activity taking its toll, I cuddle up on the sofa for a movie and a nap. I need energy well past my ten o’clock bedtime. Turning in early is my new-norm. As I stare unseeing at the television, I realize my exhaustion is much higher than I expected. I set an alarm on my phone to ensure I wake early enough to get dolled up for the guests. Normally, I don’t worry about impressing anyone, however, tonight I am at the center of the party. All eyes will be on pregnant Taylor and her non-existent baby bump.I startle at the cellphone alarm over two hours later. Once silenced, I slowly rise to a seated position. Mornin

TaylorAt 2:00 in the morning, I lay on my bathroom floor with my head leaning on the chilly edge of the tub. Yesterday, I spent more time over the bathroom stool than usual. It became bad enough, I moved the ginger ale, water bottle, and crackers onto my dresser so I could attempt to nibble without leaving my bedroom area. I found walking caused dizziness, which led to nausea, and thus another visit to the bathroom. In my weakened state, I napped most of the day in my bed. Tonight, I attempt to sleep, but most of my night, I find myself on the bathroom floor. I’m not fighting it anymore. The cool tub feels good on my cheek and neck. I grab the towel off a nearby rack to use as a blanket. My stomach quiet for the moment, I close my eyes, hoping for sleep to rescue me. My headache grows worse with each passing hour.I wake when I hear movement on the stairs and then in the kitchen.“Hey,” I attempt to yell. My dry mouth, cotton tongue, and raw throat make talking difficult. “Help!” I b