‘And so am I,’ Rach said, popping her head through the doorway and winking.
‘Thanks, girls, it means a lot to me.’
It was around seven o’clock that night when the three of us stopped at the door of the restaurant Jon had booked in Coogee. Spotting the boys across the road, I waved, my gaze darting around for their parents.
‘Hi there,’ I croaked. The boys had crossed the road and I hugged them both then stepped back to introduce my friends. ‘This is Rach . . . and Racho,’ I laughed, husky and low.
‘Oh, that’s easy then.’ Justin smirked, planting a kiss on Racho’s cheek.
‘What’s wrong with your voice?’ Jon questioned.
‘The concert last night . . . I think I went a bit too hard with all the singing and cheering.’
‘Oh, I’m so jealous you got to go – how was it?’ Justin asked.
‘She was brilliant.’ Rach shook her hands in the air, reliving the event.
‘So where are your parents?’ I whispered to Jon.
He glanced up the stairs of the restaurant. ‘They’re inside already.’
At the top of the stairs, we were greeted by loud music and chatter. My heart thumped as I scanned the tables. Jon waved across the room and smiled, leading us to a tall table of four adults near the bar, drinks in their hands. I surreptitiously wiped my sweaty palms on my dress as I approached the table. My girlfriends were behind me.
‘Everyone, this is Shannon and her friends, the Rachels,’ Jon said.
‘Hello.’ I stepped forward, all eyes on me.
‘This is my mum and dad, Annette and Rick,’ Jon said.
Annette and Rick rose from their seats. Annette smiled, her eyes wide with excitement. Rick acknowledged me with a handshake and a nod of his head.
‘And these are my parents, Sheri and Wayne,’ said Justin.
Sheri greeted me with a soft smile. Wayne stood up, shaking my hand, his grip solid. ‘G’day, nice to meet you, Shannon.’
‘It’s nice to meet you all too,’ I said in a harsh whisper, my cheeks burning. ‘I do apologise, I’ve lost my voice, so you may not be able to hear me well.’
‘Yes, it is very loud in here, we can hardly hear ourselves think,’ Annette said, lifting her wine glass off the table.
‘Let’s sit down then. Do you girls want a drink?’ Wayne asked.
I instantly liked Wayne. He was a typical, upfront Aussie male with a twang in his voice and a love of beer and sports. He sat next to Rick at dinner, discussing campervans and travelling, both of them at the other end of the table, too far away for me to talk directly with them. Sheri and Annette were both bubbly and inquisitive, but I struggled to speak, the loud music drowning out my whispers across the table. I was sure they must have questions about me, wonder what kind of person would offer to carry their sons’ baby when she hardly knew them. Hoping to ease their minds, I pulled my phone out of my bag and scrolled through my pictures.
‘This is my son, Jaxon,’ I said, holding out the phone for Annette and Sheri to see. ‘And this is Keira.’ I flicked through several photos of the kids – shots at the beach, playing at the park or dressed in their pyjamas in the lounge room at home.
‘Oh, they’re gorgeous,’ Annette said, leaning closer for a better look. ‘How old are they?’
‘Jaxon, he’s . . .’ My throat gave way, and I shook my head, held up my hand, splaying four fingers.
Sheri gave me a look of sympathy. ‘You poor thing . . . and Keira’s two?’
I nodded, reaching for a glass of water. Frustrated, I realised that I had no choice but to surrender to my strained vocal cords. As dessert was served, I sat back and enjoyed the sight of my two best friends getting on so well with Jon and Justin, doing more than enough talking for everyone. I smirked as they laughed out loud, asking questions, swapping stories.
When we left the restaurant I hugged Annette and Sheri and kissed Wayne and Rick on the cheek. ‘It was lovely to meet you all,’ I rasped.
‘It was, and no doubt the boys will keep us up to date with everything that’s happening,’ Annette said, bringing her palms together at her chest as if to pray.
‘Yes, we will, Mum.’ Jon rolled his eyes, grinning.
I waved as they walked to their cars, leaving Jon and Justin with me and the girls.
‘Do you need a lift back to Maroubra?’ Justin asked. ‘Or are you going to the Coogee Bay Hotel for a drink?’
I glanced at my friends, shaking my head, desperate to rest my throat.
‘I think we’ll take that lift, please.’ Rach yawned. ‘It’s been a big day.’
When we pulled up outside Bobbie’s house, Jon and Justin said a warm goodbye to the girls, hugging them both. Racho winked at me as they walked towards the house, leaving me to say goodbye on my own.
I’d enjoyed dinner even if I couldn’t interact in the way I had hoped. I was sad to say goodbye to the boys, knowing that I wouldn’t see them for a while: the embryo was in quarantine for four months, the transfer possibly five months away.
‘Thank you so much for tonight,’ I whispered. ‘Your parents are lovely. I hope they think I’m a suitable surrogate.’
‘I think they loved you,’ Justin said, giving me a hug.
‘I’m going to miss you both.’ I kissed his cheek and turned to hug Jon. ‘We have so much to look forward to, don’t we?’
‘Sure do, and we couldn’t have picked a better person to do this for us,’ Jon said.
‘I’ll be in touch.’ My voice cut out again, my throat tightening as I blew a kiss. ‘I love you guys.’
They lingered by the car, hands in their pockets, hesitant to leave. I was comforted to see they felt the same way as I did. ‘Bye . . . you can go,’ I said, smiling to reassure them.
Later that night as I readied myself to snuggle up on the blow-up mattress with Racho again, my phone beeped. The screen displayed a text message from the boys. Tears welled up in my eyes as I read their words.
Thank you, Shannon, for meeting our parents tonight, it means a lot. We just had a message from them and they love you and think you’re great. We are so grateful you’ve come into our lives, we couldn’t have found a better person to carry our child. We look forward to the journey ahead. Love Jon and Justin.
I had started my surrogacy journey in the hope that I’d find an amazing couple, our relationship growing into a solid bond that was unbreakable no matter how far away we were or how much time dissolved between us.
I laid my head on the pillow, closing my eyes and listening to the faint breath of my best friend falling asleep beside me.
‘Goodnight, Racho,’ I said, soft and drowsy. ‘Love you.’
‘Goodnight, Shan. Love you too.’
As I drifted into the liquid black of sleep, contentment settled inside me, warm and nourishing. What lay ahead for me and the boys was unknown but we’d get through each step together and at the end we’d no longer call each other friends.
We’d be family.
11
Goodbye, 2013 . . . Hello, 2014
The days dropped off the calendar as quickly as they came, and I continued to see Kim for acupuncture on a weekly basis. With her gentle acupuncture treatments, combined with Chinese herbs; we worked together on strengthening my kidney function, and moving liver ch’i stagnation, with the view to concentrate more on fertility by January. Kim explained to me that in Chinese medicine, invigorating the ch’i (energy) and blood, strengthening certain organ functions and balancing the hormones was essential in allowing a woman to fall pregnant and furthermore to maintain the pregnancy to full term. Research shows that acupuncture can improve the success rates of IVF by up to 60 per cent.
Always busy with the kids and Andrew’s financial planning business, I also tried to work on my novel, stealing a few hours twice a week to type some words on a blank white page while Jaxon and Keira were in preschool and day care. Other days I’d sit down with my mentor, Jenn McLeod, and discuss the craft of writing
over liquorice tea and the odd biscuit.
I spoke on the phone to Jon and Justin every few days. By mid-December it was time for Sereena to do her second egg collection; she’d been given a larger dose of drugs to stimulate more follicles in her ovaries. But Justin continued to text me insisting that the first, single embryo that had been collected and frozen was going to result in their baby. He was convinced that the transfer would work first time and they’d have a little girl. I liked his confidence.
After the second egg collection, the boys called to tell me the good news. In total, seventeen eggs had been collected this time, all with varying grades. A day after the eggs had been inseminated, a resulting six embryos were produced for Justin and the same number for Jon. By day five, the final day of grading, five of Jon’s embryos had perished, leaving one remaining for him; however, Justin had six worth freezing. This meant that seven more viable embryos were put into quarantine alongside the first embryo.
The quarantine period tested our patience, particularly mine. We all hoped that the first embryo would be the one to work. If it wasn’t, we still had seven chances, but we’d have to wait out the new quarantine period for those. The boys weren’t in a rush, but anticipating the transfer and dreaming of a pregnancy and baby made it hard to wait.
Our Christmas holidays in 2013 were filled with sunny beach days and fishing in Andrew’s boat. We taught Jaxon to catch waves on his new foam surfboard from Santa, while Keira splashed in the whitewash and then sat knock-kneed on the sand, patting handfuls into a bucket, building slanted sandcastles. I revelled in the time with my children, watching them smile and laugh, enjoying the holidays with their cousins and friends. New Year’s Eve was spent at a carnival down by the foreshore. It was an annual event, and as we’d driven by on our way to the beach in the days beforehand the kids had pointed at the attractions, begging us to take them for a ride on the dodgems and the Ferris wheel.
Seeing in the new year at a respectable time for the kids, we sat on the sand for the nine o’clock fireworks, a canopy of stars above. I hugged my knees to my chest as light danced across the ripples on the ocean’s surface. Jaxon and Keira, at my feet, snuggled in next to their cousins, listening for the spearing sound as the tiny rockets whizzed towards the sky before cracking open. The kids threw their heads back, mouths agape, as a burst of luminous colour showered the night with light, spraying bouquets of dazzling shimmer across the jetty. I smiled, watching their tiny bodies – four little children with eager souls, hoping to experience all the goodness in life. I wanted that too.
As the salty sea breeze touched my face, another firework exploded above, lighting up the ocean. The children squealed, pointing skywards, Jaxon nudging his cousin, Taj. The fireworks were a celebration of the year we were saying goodbye to, and more importantly, a celebration of the year that lay ahead. In three hours’ time we’d cross over into 2014. A special year that would bring a lot of change for my family and for me. Goose bumps rose along my arms at the thought of the baby that would grow inside my womb. Nine weeks. I had to be patient for nine more weeks.
The year to come would change me, test me, demanding my time, my energy, my all – yet it was a small sacrifice in the scheme of life. I’d be bringing new life into this world, not for my own benefit but for someone else’s, and as I sat there gazing up at the sky, the magnitude of what I was proposing to do exploded within me like a firework. I closed my eyes, squeezed my knees, contemplating my future actions: giving birth to a person who had no other way of being born. I sought courage in the thought that maybe, just maybe, that child had chosen me for its journey – chosen me to nurture it and carry it safely into the world.
My first preliminary ultrasound was performed on 6 January – a precautionary procedure to make sure I didn’t have any cysts or polyps on the uterine wall that would hinder the transfer and cause miscarriage. Fortunately, my uterus was healthy, appearing normal, and I was given the all clear. By early February the first embryo was cleared from quarantine and ready.
Kim and I agreed to wait one more month to allow the acupuncture to strengthen the ch’i enough to ensure a successful transfer. Kim’s wealth of knowledge of Chinese medicine and fertility had instilled an unwavering faith in me and as hard as it was to wait, I knew it was for the best. I told Jon and Justin that I’d be ready for the transfer in March, as long as that was okay with them.
‘Take all the time you need. Another month isn’t going to kill us. It gives us more time to save some money too,’ Jon had said over the phone. I wondered if the process put a strain on them financially – it was something I didn’t feel I could ask. I had seen figures online of approximately thirty thousand dollars for the surrogacy process in Australia and imagined the boys saving each week for the ongoing costs along with the unexpected ones.
‘Yes of course. You guys are great,’ I said, checking my calendar on the wall. ‘Well, we’ve got four weeks to go. Only four weeks!’
12
One embryo, one transfer, one life
The first of many blood tests was carried out on 8 March to pinpoint the exact day I would ovulate, the transfer to be organised accordingly. A second blood test, on 10 March, along with an ultrasound, gave an indication of how close the follicles in my ovaries were to releasing an egg. Two days later and another blood test finally determined that my body was on the brink of ovulation. Dr Ryan confirmed by phone that the procedure would take place five days later, as the embryo to be transferred was already five days old when it was frozen.
On 17 March I sat in the chair at pathology for yet another blood test, my last before I flew to Sydney later that morning. The needle pricked my skin and I winced and changed my view, studied the wall. Both arms were bruised from frequent tests over a period of a week, my arm aching as the technician slid the needle out and pressed a ball of cotton wool on the dot of blood.
‘All done,’ she said, ripping off a piece of tape and sticking it over the ball. ‘So, what’re your plans for today?’
I rolled down my sleeve. ‘I have a plane to catch in a couple of hours. I’m off to Sydney for an embryo transfer tomorrow.’
‘Oh wow, so you’re doing IVF . . . are you trying for your first baby?’ She stood back, resting her gloved hand on her hip.
‘Ah, not exactly, I’m going to be a surrogate. This’ll be my first IVF experience, though.’ I breathed in nervously.
The technician studied my face, bright-eyed. ‘Well, that’s something you don’t hear every day. Honestly, that’s a wonderful thing you’re doing.’ She smiled, ripping off her gloves and tossing them in the bin. ‘Good luck with everything, I hope it all works out for you and the couple.’
‘Thank you. I hope so too,’ I said, sliding off the chair and reaching for my handbag. ‘You never know, you might be here doing my blood test to confirm the pregnancy.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ She grinned, eyebrows raised.
I enjoyed positive interactions with random strangers, watching their faces as I told them I was going to be a surrogate. Even though some were sceptical, most people were delighted. A few women even told me they had considered being a surrogate themselves. I liken it to the idea that we all have a book in us but most don’t sit down to write it, for whatever reason – fear, time, money, or lack of belief in their ability. I guess I was one of the few who considered surrogacy and actually acted on the thought.
Like an endless cerulean silk scarf, the sky stretched out over the regional airport. It was a good day for flying, the breeze barely there and not a cloud to taint the horizon. I pulled my luggage from the back of the car, and Andrew shut the boot.
‘This is it, then. This is what we’ve been working towards,’ I said, placing my bag at my feet.
‘This is it,’ Andrew said, raising his eyebrows.
As we hugged I took in his warmth and strength, the familiarity of his embrace. Potentially, the next time I saw him I could be pregnant with another man’s child – a strange thought. Our
previous pregnancies had always revolved around our dreams and hopes for our child, but this time I was the vessel for someone else’s hopes and dreams – lending my body and our lives, taking a leap of faith. Andrew had also taken a leap of faith and his support had steadied me so far on the journey already, and I loved him even more for it.
‘Thank you.’ I hugged him again, kissing his cheek, the stubble scratching my lips. ‘I love you,’ I whispered into his ear.
The thought of being away from Andrew for the next couple of days – those crucial days – made my chest ache. He was as much a part of me as I was of him. We had been through so much together, but now I was about to board a plane, on the verge of undertaking one of the biggest things I had done in my life, all without him by my side.
Andrew smiled, accentuating the creases around his eyes. ‘I know you do, and I love you too, always,’ he said softly, squeezing my hand, tucking my fingers into his palm. ‘You better go, don’t want to miss your flight. Say hello to the boys for me, and remember . . . relax.’
‘I will.’ I laughed. ‘I’ll see you in two days, and hopefully I’ll be pregnant.’ My smile expanded into a wide, nervous grin as I stepped back and lifted my bag off the pavement, waving goodbye.
I switched on my phone as I walked through Sydney airport, and several beeps rang out. The first message was from Andrew, asking if I’d heard my sister’s news. I scrolled down to find a message from Jon and Justin asking me to text them once I’d arrived, as they were coming to pick me up. Intrigued about my sister, Stacey, I scrolled through my messages – was she in labour? She was thirty-eight weeks pregnant with her fourth child, and her track record of going early and quickly was a running joke within the family.
As I weaved past people and sidestepped luggage my phone beeped again, and this time it was my sister. While I was on my one-hour flight to Sydney, she had given birth to a baby girl named Sophie. The labour was quick, one and a half hours, and both mother and baby were doing well. Beaming, I rang Stacey to offer my congratulations.
Labour of Love Page 9
