Why surrogacy Part One (Making MY family)

I have wanted to be a mother for most of my life, from the time I was about eight.  I have this memory of holding my cousin, stroking her tiny little fingers, amazed at her translucent eye lids.  The way her small chest rose and fell as she slept peacefully in my arms.  Something awoke in me that day, a yearning to have a family of my own.
After about a year of marriage, my husband and I decided to start "trying" for a baby.  He was gone quite a bit for work and as you know, timing is everything.  Each month, in the days before my period, I would cling to the hope that it wasn't coming.  I would imagine instead, the pure joy of knowing this was the month, the month when I would start to become a mother.  Seven or eight months passed this way; the hope and then the agony of knowing I wasn't pregnant.   Many of those months ended in tears.
That winter, my husband took a long trip to Hawaii.  I was working at a bank in a small Alaskan town at the time.  After more than a month out to sea, his boat appeared on the horizon, and my boss sent me home early to greet him.  It seems our timing was finally right and within a month, we were expecting Baby Number 1.
My pregnancy was easy.  Other than some nasty morning sickness in the beginning and some heartburn at the end, I felt nothing but happiness and love for the child growing inside of me.  Labor was the craziest, hardest, and most rewarding experience.  After thirteen long hours at the hospital, my son was born.  I was in a daze the first time they placed him on my chest, exhausted and emotionally drained.  After the nurses cleaned him up and gave him to me a second time, a wave of calm washed over me.  I counted his ten perfect fingers, kissed his tiny nose and watched as his chest rose and fell.  Everything was right in the world.
Within the first year, we moved back to the lower forty-eight and began to adjust to life outside of Alaska.  We were overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of city life, the traffic jams and the forty-plus hour work-weeks we fell into.  We were happy with our little boy and felt that it wasn't the right time to bring a second child into the world.
We moved again three years later.  I found a job that I loved, one where I was appreciated and one that didn't stress me out daily.  It felt like the right atmosphere in which to be pregnant again, so we started "trying".  I had my IUD removed in late November, and by April I was pregnant.  Again, other than morning sickness (this time a bit more intense), my pregnancy was easy.   Labor was much easier too.  I was at the hospital for less than four hours before my daughter was born.  When the nurse handed her to me for the first time, I wasn't drained, but wide awake and hungry to see her, to smell her fuzzy head and kiss her tiny nose.  Looking down at her, I was overjoyed.  Later that evening, when it was time for our son to visit, he climbed into my hospital bed, and held his sister gently. With my husband next to me and both kids in my arms, I knew this one thing with certainty- our family was complete.
Fast forward two years.  We've moved again.  (Thats military life!)  We have an eight year old and a two year old.  Six years apart and those two are still peas in a pod.  No one can make them laugh like the other can.
Parenting isn't easy.  Its an uphill battle, and some days, we feel like we're rolling backward in the wrong direction.  But let me tell you, on the good days, the ones without toddler tantrums, hunger induced bad attitudes or messes that never seem to disappear, it is the best job in the world.  When your children crawl in your lap, grab you by the cheeks, plant a big sloppy kiss on your lips, and whisper "I love you", its enough to make your heart explode.