As we drove away from the appointment, none of us went into great detail about our one-on-one sessions with Meredith. Glad it was over, we laughed over a few comments, and also that Justin was cleared of being crazy and he mentioned Meredith made special note that she felt he’d been the most honest in his answers to the test.
‘So that’s it for the counselling then?’ I unbuckled my seatbelt as Jon pulled up outside a café for a quick bite to eat before our flight.
‘Yep, we’re done with that,’ Justin said, opening his door. ‘Now we can move on to the next thing, which is finding a lawyer.’
‘I’ve seen a couple of law firms online that deal with surrogacy in Australia, so I can’t imagine it’ll be too hard finding someone.’ Jon pushed open the door to the café.
‘I’m starving,’ Andrew said as we walked inside. ‘All that talk has made me hungry.’
As we ate our lunch, I studied the two men sitting opposite me. Our relationship developed with each day, each step we took towards their dream. Justin made me laugh: he was so positive, nothing seemed to worry him. He’d just wave his hand in the air, roll his eyes and dismiss anything negative. He was someone I’d love to have a couple of sauv blancs with; the conversation would never be dull. Jon was a little more serious; in his work he was trained to ask questions, and now I could see him evaluating each and every step – what and who it involved and how much it would cost. I could see the worry in his eyes from time to time, but it came from a genuine place – the place of wanting to love a child – and with the journey ahead so mysterious at times, he had every right to have concerns and questions.
I had begun to love them both – to care for them as I would anyone in my family. I loved them for who they were, what they dreamed of and the risks they were willing to take to love another human being unconditionally. I, too, hoped to achieve the outcome they so desperately wanted. I had imagined the birth every single day from the first email I sent. Black and white and grainy at first, as I got to know the boys the mental images became flooded with colour and life. I could smell the hospital room, feel the sweat on my skin. I tasted the water in my mouth as I gulped and sensed the elation and anticipation as the time drew near. I could feel every muscle in my body tense with a contraction and the coolness of the air I pulled into my lungs as I braced myself for the next. It was so real. It was going to happen. They would witness their child being born.
To our elation approval was granted by the ethics board and a Skype call was set up between me and a nurse from the IVF clinic. I arranged it for a time when Jaxon and Keira were both in care and I had the house to myself. I adjusted the laptop on the coffee table and sat up straight on the couch. I connected to the call and Sonia’s happy face popped up on the screen. She outlined the procedure I would undergo and asked if I had organised my Pap test to check for any abnormalities.
‘Yep, I’ve booked that. It’s tomorrow.’
‘Okay, that’s great. Now, I see on your file that we have your blood test results, which are all fine, and we also have the assessment from the independent obstetrician, so that’s wonderful.’ Sonia sat back in her chair. ‘Now, because Dr Ryan has advised that you’ll do a natural cycle, there’s not a lot to tell you at this point. I just need to send out some paperwork for you to fill in with a health questionnaire which I need you to post back as soon as you can. With the paperwork you’ll also find a pack from us outlining what we do, general information on IVF, and how best to look after yourself at this stage. Really, the best thing I can tell you to do at the moment is keep healthy, eat well and exercise, oh and don’t get pregnant!’ She laughed, adjusting her glasses that slid down her nose.
‘No.’ I jolted backwards from my hunched position. ‘That wouldn’t be good. I won’t let that happen, mark my words.’ I held back a shaky grin. I wasn’t on the pill and nor had Andrew had a vasectomy, so it was a real possibility that a condom could break and an accident occur.
‘Yes, that could be awkward.’ Sonia chortled, clapping her hands together. ‘Well, that’s about it for now. It’s just a waiting game until we find out how the egg collection goes with Sereena and then of course there’s the quarantine period. We wouldn’t be looking at doing a transfer until around the end of January, depending on your cycle, of course. So you have plenty of time.’
Over the coming days I had my Pap test appointment and spoke to the nurses on a few occasions, tying up loose ends and letting them know that I had received my welcome pack from the IVF clinic with all the information I needed for the transfer and pregnancy. Sereena was preparing for her egg collection appointment, and when I spoke to Jon and Justin there was a buzz of excitement. January seemed like aeons away from where I was sitting in August, and I had to talk myself through my impatience.
All in good time, Shannon. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen. Don’t rush things like you always do. Oh, and by the way, it’s not really about you anyway, it’s about the divine timing set out for the baby.
It’s all about the baby.
It was true, this time it wasn’t really about me or my baby. This time it was different. This time it was about someone else’s baby.
9
A birth, legalities and needles
Spring is my favourite time of year. I love how the weather grows warmer day by day, the sun’s rays intensifying, the light stretching out just a little longer, and the scent in the air thick and heady, perfumed by new buds sprouting, flowers blooming and the new grass working its way up through rich soil.
The perfect time to have a baby.
In early September I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when I received a text from one of my best friends, Tenille. Tenille is married to Andrew’s cousin Khane, and over the past couple of years we’d grown very close, taking our kids to the park or out on play dates. Her son, Jhett, and Keira had become best friends too, and despite being blood relations they both declared they would get married when they grew up. Tenille and I have a lot in common: we’re both very interested in exercise, food and how it affects the body, and we’ve both studied beauty therapy. Tenille is the type of person I can tell anything. She’s insightful and caring, and was very excited about my surrogacy journey.
By September, well over forty weeks pregnant with her fourth child, Tenille had tried everything to spur on labour, and today she’d had another acupuncture appointment to try to get things moving.
My phone beeped and I picked it up off the bench. A shot of electricity fired through me. Tenille was in labour and on her way to the hospital. She told me to come down whenever I was ready – we had already talked about it and she wanted me there to film the birth. I was honoured to be part of such an experience.
As the kids ran around the house playing hide-and-seek, I called Andrew. It was well past 5.30 pm and he’d be packing up from a day in the office.
‘Hey. What’s up?’
‘Tenille’s in labour. I have to go to the hospital. Are you on your way home now?’ I said in a rush.
‘Yep, I’ll be there in ten.’
I ran into the lounge room, shouting to the kids, ‘Aunty Nille’s having a baby! I’m going to the hospital.’
They both stopped, their little chests moving in and out, cheeks flushed.
‘Can I come too, Mum? Can I come too?’ Keira wriggled closer, looking up at me with wide excited eyes.
‘Oh, darling, you can’t, it’s only for adults to see. Only Mummy can go in and help Aunty Nille.’
‘Aww,’ Keira sighed, her shoulders slumping and forcing out her pot belly.
‘But Daddy’s coming home from work now.’ I said, crouching down, my face animated.
‘Yay!’ they both screamed, jumping up and down.
‘Mummy should get organised.’ I clapped my hands together. ‘Aunty Nille is going to have a baby.’
My pulse quickened as I dashed through the hospital car park. The thought of a new life coming into the world before my eyes sent a shiver of excite
ment down my spine. I’d been lucky enough to watch my sister-in-law Melissa give birth to her son in 2006, but back then all things baby were unfamiliar and foreign to me and Andrew – we were working, travelling and partying, not ready to settle down.
At first I had cowered in the corner of the birthing suite, Andrew by my side, both of us fearful of encroaching on Melissa’s space. She panted, groaned and gritted her teeth, sweating as she gripped her knees with her hands. I imagined a pain far worse than anything on earth. The sight frightened me, made me question if that was something I could do, but when she wept and smiled on holding her son for the first time, something changed inside me. The miracle of birth had blown me away and, of course, everything clicked into place once I had my own birthing experience three years later.
I loved the anticipation of birth, knowing that a human being was making his or her way into the world and that I had the privilege of seeing that tiny person take its first breath. You couldn’t get much better in life than the electricity in the room after a baby was born – a new beginning, fresh hope in the world. A miracle that happened every day all around our planet, somehow it made me feel small but part of something bigger. At the end of the day, we’re all born the same way, and in that divine moment of birth there’s no judgement or prejudice, no right and wrong, only love – pure, infectious love.
‘Can I help you?’ a midwife asked from behind the counter of the maternity ward.
‘I’m looking for Tenille and Khane, please,’ I said.
The midwife directed me to the birthing suite. I pushed open the door, then pulled back the curtain a few inches as I whispered, ‘Hello?’
‘Come in,’ Tenille said, and I drew the curtain back fully. She smiled as she stood by the bed, rocking back and forth, both hands pressed onto her swollen belly.
‘How’s it going?’ I tiptoed over to Khane, gave him a hug and placed my handbag on a chair.
‘She’s doing well. Contractions are about four minutes apart. The midwife is filling up the bath,’ Khane said, glancing at his wife.
I walked over and hugged my friend, and rubbed her back for a second before she flinched and pulled away, closed her eyes and braced.
Khane and I clock-watched, timing the contractions as Tenille readied herself, bowing her head as she hunched over the bed, breathing through the pain. After a while a midwife entered the room, suggesting Tenille get in the shower.
Hours went by, Tenille moaning as she progressed, holding the metal rail in the shower, tucking her chin to her chest as another contraction took hold. I felt useless, helpless, so I grabbed the iPad and filmed short snippets of things going on in the room. Midwives scurried around, testing the warmth of the bath and getting towels ready. Khane held the shower nozzle over his wife’s back, telling her, ‘You’re doing great, honey.’
Tenille groaned as she buckled forward onto her knees, hands splayed on the white tiles, clenching as another contraction took hold. A long, exaggerated cry left her mouth as she lifted her left hand to grip the edge of the spa bath in front of her. Another cry tore through the silence as she flexed her back, moving her hand between her legs in panic and then back to the bath edge. She was transitioning.
‘I want to get in the bath,’ Tenille shrieked, panting.
Fifteen minutes later, baby Aurora was born – petite, pink and plump. The room thrummed with life and joyous laughter as the two midwives busied themselves around the bath, clamping the umbilical cord and trying to make mother and baby comfortable. Bright-eyed, Khane covered his mouth with a trembling hand and I stepped closer to squeeze him.
‘Congratulations!’ I gushed. ‘She’s beautiful.’
‘Thanks, Shan. She is,’ Khane said, patting my back before snatching another glimpse of his new baby.
‘You did it, Tenille,’ I said, lifting the iPad again to film the moment. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Laying her head back on the edge of the spa bath, Tenille smiled through the breathlessness, relief washing over her face. She held the baby close to her bare chest as Khane kissed her forehead, and I watched them through the screen of the iPad, a tear trickling down my cheek at the sight of their happiness. They both had another person to cherish, hold and worry about. Another person they would guide, watch over as she grew and fulfilled her dreams. They both had another person to love in their world.
As I drove home I lowered the volume on the radio, and in the quiet I reflected on what I’d just witnessed. How the goose bumps had rippled over my skin when baby Aurora screamed for the first time. A lucky bystander, I’d seen the powerful feminine strength of a woman consumed by labour and felt the love between my friends, the wonderment at their creation.
I turned into my driveway and switched off the engine. As I pulled the key out of the ignition, I thought about Jon, Justin and my own family – what lay ahead for us all? I couldn’t predict the future – no one could. I had to hold on to hope. I had to believe that we would all experience a birth like Tenille’s and that a healthy baby would be delivered straight into his or her loving fathers’ arms.
Two weeks later, Jon had found a suitable lawyer to act on their behalf, and a different lawyer, Mary, to act for Andrew and me. A teleconference was set up for us to speak with Mary on 18 September. She outlined the laws around surrogacy in New South Wales and said that a surrogacy agreement would be put together by Jon and Justin’s lawyer and sent to her; she would peruse the document and consult us about it via phone before forwarding it to us for signing. The agreement would outline all the relevant details, including where the child would be born, and state that no money would be exchanged between parties in payment for the surrogacy. The agreement would also make note that the parentage of the child must be transferred to Jon and Justin after the child’s birth, and that the birth parents – Andrew and I – would lodge the child’s birth certificate under the surname Cole, Jon’s name.
‘Have you read it?’ Andrew asked me a few weeks later as he leaned over the desk, ready to sign.
‘Yes, of course I have, and you better read it too,’ I said. ‘Just to make sure you’re happy with everything.’
Andrew lifted his pen off the paper and rolled his eyes, then picked up the document and scanned each sentence.
‘I’m happy with it,’ he said moments later, shrugging before signing.
‘There’s nothing out of the ordinary in there. Plus everything in it we’ve discussed with the boys and the lawyer,’ I said, collecting the agreement from Andrew’s hand. ‘I’ll post it back today.’
A couple of days later I had word from Jon that Sereena had had the procedure for the egg collection and it was quite successful, with five viable eggs collected. He explained that once the eggs were combined with the sperm and embryos created, it would take five days to know the final outcome; each day the embryos would be graded for quality and only the top-graded embryos would be frozen at the end of the five days.
As I hung up the phone, my nerves and excitement grew. I grabbed a pen and marked the day on the calendar that hung in my kitchen – in five days’ time we would know whether there were viable embryos for a transfer. The thought that one of those tiny embryos would be placed inside my body and grow into a baby sent my brain into overdrive. I was astonished to think that an IVF clinic in Sydney now had the beginnings of a baby that I would carry and birth for the boys.
During the phone call, Jon had mentioned that he and Justin had driven Sereena into the city for her appointment; he said that she was a little sore and groggy afterwards and fell asleep on the back seat of their car as they drove her home. I felt so removed from the situation, so far away. I wanted to hug Sereena, tell her how amazing I thought she was. She was prepared to go through weeks of hormone treatments and the risks of the procedure in order to give Jon and Justin a chance at parenthood. I wanted to congratulate the boys too, see the smiles on their faces.
We were all one step closer.
The legal side of things was finalise
d, the embryos created, and I moved my attention to my own body. Was I ready to go through another pregnancy? I had read that acupuncture could be beneficial for fertility and health in general, and my visit to the IVF clinic had shown that the ancient practice was considered very valuable if you were trying to conceive via IVF.
A friend referred me to a woman named Kim who practised acupuncture from her home. When I arrived for my appointment, Kim greeted me with a wide smile and asked me to sit on the couch and fill out a client information sheet. As I scribbled down my medical history, Kim moved around the room like a summer breeze, calm and gentle in her flowing white cotton kaftan and long pants.
‘Now, Shannon. Why have you come to see me?’ she asked, taking the information sheet from me and sitting down opposite.
‘I’m about to become a surrogate in four to five months’ time and I just wanted to balance my body, make sure I’m as fertile as possible,’ I said with a grin.
‘A surrogate? Wow. That’s big and very kind of you. What a gift.’ Kim sat back, studying me thoughtfully. She read over my medical information, then set the clipboard on the table and pushed herself off the couch. ‘Let’s go into the treatment room and see what we can do for you.’
Kim explained that acupuncture can help a great deal with both fertility and infertility, stimulating the ch’i (energy) in specific organs of the body, especially that of the heart, kidneys and uterus and by activating hormones, encouraging ovulation and acceptance of a pregnancy by the body and also invigorating the blood.
After the treatment I sat down next to Kim, handing over my credit card. I had decided to pay for the treatments myself, as it was my decision to undergo them and not something that Jon and Justin had asked me to do. I didn’t want the boys to think I was taking advantage of the situation, pursuing treatments unnecessarily just so they could pay for them. It was my body and my choice.
Labour of Love Page 7
