Designer Baby

by Aaron Elias Brunsdon

  Rebecca got us a book, Gay Dads, which gave us an insight into two men bringing up a child. Will my kid be missing out on something the other kids at school have by not having a mum? Will they suffer in their adolescent years not having a female role model in our family? The questions seemed endless. We just kept progressing and with each one the answer was right there in front of us; look for it and it lands at your feet. And if it wasn’t there, we had to work out a way or an answer ourselves based on our gut feeling so that when the matter arose in the future and the question was thrown at you by your kid, you already knew the answer. The main advice was that if you don’t have the answer there and then, you tell your child that you will get back to him to allow you and your partner time to think about the appropriate answer to satisfy your child. But the thing that gave us the most solace was the advice that each family is different, and we all have to learn to respect that. Like my French mate Jonathan says, “Dogs don’t have kittens.” I love the expression.

  We would have to teach our child the importance of respecting differences because we live in a modern world, where the stereotypes are gone. Yes, of course it’s traditional for a kid to grow up with a mum or dad but the reality is some children have one mum or dad, two mums and two dads, or even two families. Whatever the dynamic of the family, you need to teach your kid to respect it. The most important thing is for your child to know that they exist in the realm, is loved and cared for by two human beings, whatever their sex, parents who brought them into this world and love them. It was important to know how to handle the questions which would come not just from our child but also from people around him or her.

  Kay was sending us daily emails, most of them with profiles of potential surrogate mothers. We went through each of them with a fine-tooth comb. After weeks of reading the materials, we selected Pimchanok to be our surrogate mother. She lived on the outskirts of Bangkok, had children of her own, and was a first-time surrogate mother. We requested a Skype meeting with her so we could get a feel for her personality and also gauge her sincerity for the role she would undertake. In Pimchanok’s case, Kay assured us that we weren’t going to get anyone better than her and that she would continue to monitor her progress, do routine blood tests and also sync her period dates with Rebecca until we arrived in April, at which time we could meet her face to face. Kay said she would be present at the meeting and translate the conversation for us as Pimchanok couldn’t speak a word of English. She was a good sort – a respectable lady, divorced from her husband and singlehandedly looking after her two young kids, working various shifts at a factory. We were convinced by Kay’s glowing recommendation.

  Sam was a pillar of support during those weeks before Thailand, ringing almost weekly. He also worked closely with Kay to refine the language in the surrogacy agreement which we were to sign with Pimchanok in Bangkok. He suggested several amendments. Kay required specific materials from us such as scanned copies of passports and acknowledgment of the memorandum of fees, important things which needed to be done before the journey began.

  We confirmed accommodation in Bangkok and Singapore for our two travelling parties and the timetable was fixed to a tee. Christmas was just around the corner and we were busy at work, preparing for Fashion Week where we would be previewing our tenth anniversary collection show.

  It was busy, there wasn’t a spare minute, and we were to leave the day afterwards for Thailand. But we were ready. It was refreshing to know we had come this far. Now all that was left to do was pack our bags and get on the plane. It was exciting and we were counting the hours.

  Part 2

  9 Months

  The events of April to December 2014

  “Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.”

  E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

  14

  “Welcome to Bangkok, Thailand”

  Finally, the day has come. We are leaving for Bangkok. Being a meticulous person, I scan through the checklist. I am running on nervous energy. “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night!” like Bette Davis said.

  This trip will entail three weeks of following a rigorous routine of medical appointments and procedures to the final step of implanting our embryos. Soon we will meet Dr Pisit, all the staff in the clinic and most importantly Pimchanok, the chosen surrogate mother. I wait for the time with bated breath.

  The Spring-Summer 2014 Fashion Week Collection show was the day before. We celebrated afterwards, hence my massive hangover, and I barely had any sleep. I am dreading the ten-hour flight. Aunt Esther and Rebecca are accompanying me on this journey. Jayson opted to stay back to brief media and attend buyers’ appointments before joining us in Bangkok in a few days. He still feels under the weather when the gang arrives but remains composed and grateful for not having to travel today.

  The journey to the airport is sheer excitement. Using our iPhones, we document every hope-filled step for our baby one day. As we arrive at Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport, Simon surprises Rebecca by joining us on the trip. It is his way of endorsing her important contribution and showing me support. They have been dating for over three years and although both have children of their own, Simon has always been open to the idea of having a child with Rebecca. His demonstrative acceptance of Rebecca donating her eggs is a momentous step. He is a marvellous man, someone I have utmost respect for.

  Avoiding the long queue in economy, we go to the Qantas first class check-in counter. None of the entourage has ever experienced travel in such glory. Flashing my Qantas platinum card at the counter, we are greeted by friendly check-in staff.

  “Mr Elias, travelling to Thailand for holidays?”

  “Yes,” I reply, the hangover making me keen to get the conversation over with.

  “We will be glad to host your friends and yourself at the first class lounge before your departure,” she says in a professional tone.

  Qantas has been a loyal supporter and major sponsor of our fashion shows in the last five years. The PR girls of Qantas, Sophia Connelly and Michelle Walter, have taken every step to ensure our comfort and travel needs are met. There are none like these two wonderful women, who take care of things from the start to the finish of the entire journey.

  “There are two requests for upgrade, Ms Fatouros and yourself, and we will inform you at the lounge if this is successful,” the customer service agent affirms.

  I am hoping so much the upgrades would eventuate. I am exhausted and the idea of sleeping for nine hours to Bangkok on the Marc Newson’s business class seat is a welcome thought. The check-in barely takes five minutes and we are on our way to the lounge, taking more videos and selfies. We are proclaiming our sentiments, reiterating important moments and telling our unborn child the significance of our roles on the impending trip. With no expectations beyond creating a home video and with everyone aware of the trip’s purpose, we speak freely to the camera.

  The QF82 flight flashes on the board, advising us to go to our gate. As we go to leave the lounge, the customer service agent stops us.

  “Excuse me, Mr Elias, but can I please have a moment with you?” Still recovering from the hangover, I just nod and give her my full attention.

  “You have been upgraded to business class. I hope you enjoy your flight,” she says as she prints a new boarding pass with 1A on it.

  I ask if Rebecca has been upgraded but she tells me I have the last issued seat in business class. Half-heartedly, I hand my ticket to Rebecca but she declines, choosing to be with Simon instead. They are both still over the moon about his surprise appearance. We hurry to the gate for boarding. At the tarmac, we are greeted by the stewardess before I excitedly sink into the posh Newson’s seat. I am glad to know the gang are only a few seats behind me, in the first row of economy class.

  Throughout the flight, I regularly check on them. I also sneak them Neil Perry’s business class meals and better headphones than the ones in economy. Somehow I m
anage to score them from the stewardesses in my cabin by telling them at various intervals that mine are faulty. I figure they are suspicious but they obligingly give me new ones.

  Halfway through the flight, Rebecca announces she has her period. Fantastic news, since this is what we were planning for. After months of taking birth control pills, her body is telling us she is now ready and on time to begin fertility treatments.

  We arrive at Suvarnabhumi International Airport just after 4pm local time. Bangkok, Thailand’s capital and its largest metropolitan city, welcomes more visitors than any other Asian city in the world, with estimates of 16 million tourists per year. It is a vibrant city of extremes with action on every corner. Bangkok has never ceased to amaze me. It is always full of surprises and I looked forward to being welcomed after a ten-year gap. Outside the airport, we are greeted with a placard bearing our names and our driver smiles at us in his bright printed floral tie-dyed shirt.

  “Welcome, I am Diamond from Bangkok, Thailand,” are his first words, sounding like a Miss Thailand Universe entrant.

  He hurries us to the car park, hoping to beat the peak hour traffic chaos. Awaiting us is a flashy, camp, neon-pink four-wheel drive decorated with gleaming fairy lights that remind me of the bus in the film Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. It is camper than Christmas hampers and I can’t help smiling at the tackiness. Inside the car are various gold Buddhas and trays of sweet-smelling jasmine flowers adorning the statuettes. A sense of divineness fills the already cramped car and it feels kind of spiritual. Like a blessing is being placed upon us for the journey.

  “Songkran Saturday,” he says, indicating he had taken the liberty of decorating the taxi for Songkran, which Thailand will celebrate in two days’ time. This auspicious Thai festival culminates in three days of festivities. I have been told it’s a major kerfuffle in Thailand.

  The drive to our Chao Phraya three-bedroom penthouse (found on Trip Advisor) is a stimulating journey. The afternoon heat is ablaze and the mounting traffic on the expressway indicates we are in a city of 15 million inhabitants with constant turbulent traffic. There are tuk tuks speeding along bustling streets, commuters on motorbikes without helmets and children running the streets barefoot and unchaperoned, at the traffic’s mercy. The air is steamy, polluted, thick with the gross smell of cheap petrol fumes.

  Makeshift stores line the busy streets, selling water guns in all shapes and sizes as shopkeepers prepare for the festival’s trade. Luxurious malls with a sea of boutiques catches the eye. New to me since my last visit are extravagant five-star hotels and skyscrapers surrounding the densely populated “city of angels”.

  We arrive at the Villa Hibiscus, which is set in tropical lush greenery. Our apartment faces the Chao Phraya River and in view are ferries lining the banks waiting for passengers as loud Thai music blasts from their speakers to welcome their passengers. The river accommodates smaller boats too, and it’s a beautiful, majestic sight as the sun sets over the river.

  The apartment is large and comfortable, with a master bedroom bigger than my entire Sydney apartment. It has a walk-in closet and a bathtub that could fit a party of four. I offer the room to Rebecca and Simon as a goodwill gesture and they accept gratefully. It has three other rooms, all decked in contemporary furniture, a large kitchen with state of the art appliances, and a fridge full of Singha beer and breakfast ingredients. Fruit platters containing mangosteens, mangoes and longans are a complementary addition, thanks to the owner’s generosity. Call it symbolic, but we notice a bird sitting on a nest outside the verandah, waiting to lay eggs.

  I click on the Wi-Fi, so necessary for all of us, and it effortlessly welcomes us back to Australia, business and miscellaneous matters. There are several emails from Jayson, mostly press coverage from our show with good reviews. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  As soon as we settle, we hail a cab and ask the driver if he knows of a good restaurant he could recommend. Speaking hardly any English and with the help of Simon’s broken and minimal Thai, he figures we want good food and drives us to Baan Khanitha in Silom, a tourist area packed with dinnertime locals.

  Dinner is superb and we devour the great Thai cuisine. The authenticity in its flavours of coriander, galangal, lemongrass and rich spices far surpasses the neighbourhood Thai takeaway in Sydney. We have been in Bangkok for a few hours and have already had a taste of what I thought was the best restaurant in the city. It would become our favourite hangout throughout our journey. We discovered later that Trip Advisor ranked it as the most authentic. It is very humid and we are tired. Tomorrow, we will make the long-awaited trip to the All IVF clinic in Lumpini. We are closer than ever, I think happily.

  I say a prayer before going to bed and thank the universe for bringing us here safely and for what is yet to come. That night I dream contentedly of King Mongkut of Siam (from The King and I) and his many singing children as the full moon basks in the metropolis. Bangkok, I am “getting to know you”.

  15

  Dr Pisit

  It is the Friday before the long weekend of Songkran and, like all cities before long weekends, Bangkok is in full swing. The traffic is once again heavy and chaotic, and commuters are rushing to work on scooters and motorbikes. I feel congested. Our first appointment is scheduled for 10am and we travel to Lumpini, about a half-hour trip from our apartment in Chao Phraya, to the All IVF clinic to meet Kay and Dr Pisit.

  The name Lumpini derives from the birthplace of Buddha in Nepal. I consider it an auspicious, relevant sign. Lumpini’s major attractions include the Night Bazaar where you can find an array of mishmash and souvenirs of all types, and the Boxing Stadium, which hosts the Muay Thai (kickboxing) sport, a favourite among the locals. Many of the city’s upmarket hotels are located in this district. Several embassies also surround the small suburb and the area is frequented by protestors for weekly anti-government demonstrations.

  In the middle of Wittayu Road is the Sivatel Building, a postmodern building that houses offices, clinics and executive apartments and is the site of our clinic. Directly opposite the Sivatel is the famous British Embassy, which occupies nine acres of land. We are early but the taxi mistakenly drops us off at the other end of Lumpini. Lost, we walk around asking for directions to the Sivatel Building. Finally after half an hour and with the help of an English speaking passer-by, we arrive just before the 10am appointment.

  We are amazed to find the clinic packed with couples from all over the world. There are Australians, Canadians, Americans, Israelis, Thais and Singaporeans waiting patiently in the room. Some are with their surrogates and agents while several have come for the egg donor program. Most are there to meet with Dr Pisit, the influential world-renowned IVF specialist, and his competent medical team.

  The clinic is spacious, with a large waiting room, and above the reception desk a big bold neon light fixture with the clinic’s name “ALL IVF” shines brightly. A twenty-inch plasma shows a slideshow of newborns to Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable”, fake flowers adorn the room, and a large incense-burning Buddha effigy lies dormant. An espresso coffee machine and several jars of biscuits await the clinic’s barefoot patients. The clinic orders patients to leave shoes outside before entering its grounds. The proprietors believe the clinic is a sacred holy space. Thai people tend to consider soiled shoes as impure objects that evil spirits follow, offending the gods or ancestors watching over the domain. I am worried about leaving my Gucci sneakers outside in case someone nicks them.

  The English-speaking staff member greets us formally and within minutes a Thai woman in her mid-thirties approaches us. She is about five feet two, slim, with a frizzy shoulder-length permed hairdo and dressed moderately well. She has a big Hello Kitty smile. A pleasant aura surrounds her and a calm, positive vibe. Immediately I recognise her as Kay from the picture I saw on the clinic’s website a few months ago. We exchange salutations and hugs before I introduce her to Rebecca and the gang.

  Rebecca and I scan the room, noticing minute d
etails like the impressive credentials of our doctor. We discover that Dr Pisit has completed a Master in Clinical Embryology at Monash University in Melbourne, which he followed with an MBA at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. His credentials surpass our expectations as we read the long list of qualifications in reproductive medicine, obstetrics and gynaecology bestowed on the man. His experience includes working in various hospitals and clinics in Bangkok, on the Gold Coast, in Sydney and in Melbourne over more than fifteen years. He is a recognised specialist in the field and his clinic is one of Asia’s most highly ranked, renowned for its high success rates in reproductive technology. These discoveries reassure us greatly. We are in good hands.

  Before too long, Rebecca goes for some blood tests. A nurse by the name of Spurm takes us to Dr Pisit’s cluttered and rather chaotic office. We note the proliferation of thank-you cards, gifts of expensive whiskey bottles, some cellophane-wrapped gaudy hampers tied with plastic bows and several framed pictures of his twin toddlers among the piles of medical books. We are formally introduced to our doctor by Kay.