Designer Baby

by Aaron Elias Brunsdon

  We dread the news as we are all really homesick. We are wishing silently for a positive outcome on Friday. Monday just seems too long a wait and we would have been in Thailand for nearly three weeks. Besides, I need to get to London, having booked to leave Bangkok on Sunday 27 April to visit my sick cousin Raphael who just got out of hospital from being in an induced coma. He needs me and I need to be with him.

  There is nothing we can do except wait and hope for better news on Friday while Rebecca continues the injections to accelerate the growth of her vegan eggs.

  18

  Porn

  This morning, we anxiously wait to meet our new surrogate mother. “What if she is not our cup of tea?” I have stewed over it in the last twenty-four hours.

  A demonstration takes place in Lumpini, with hundreds of people in red-coloured clothing gathered to protest their military government. The streets are blocked and the taxi journey to our destination is a long, frustrating one. Carrying placards, the protestors’ fight for democracy is clear, whistles and chants loudly audible from inside the air-conditioned taxi. We sit silently, frustrated at the vehicle’s slow motion and frequent stops for the demonstrators. After an hour-long ride, and more than fifteen minutes late, we arrive at the Sivatel cafe. Sitting patiently in a corner are Kay and Ittiporn.

  Ittiporn has an angelic face of rare kindness and humility. These are my first impressions and this time I am more convinced with the choice. Ittiporn in Thai means “power”. The spiritual energy she emits causes a shift in our psyche. Whatever this unexplainable phenomenon, we are drawn to her. Ittiporn was born on 1 April 1981, April Fool’s Day, the same day Jayson and I met at the Stonewall Hotel through our friend Charlotte Dawson. This other sign is enough to tell me something meaningful is occurring. Signs always come to me, for some reason. They are my way of communicating with the divine.

  Ittiporn is thirty-three years old and from Chiangmai (Thailand’s second largest city, referred to as “the Rose of the North”). Chiangmai is 700 kilometres north of Bangkok and it is picturesque. I remember visiting it with my father when I was a little boy. Ittiporn – or Porn as she and her husband, a jewellery designer, preferred – were childhood sweethearts. They married at the age of twenty-one and they now have two boys aged eight and two. They moved to Bangkok three years ago in search of a better life. Porn’s husband found a job in a factory designing and making 24-carat gold jewellery for rich Thais. They live about twenty minutes away from Bangkok in a small village surrounded by friends and neighbours. She is a full-time mother and housewife – taking the kids to school, shopping and cleaning before preparing dinner for her family. She adores her children and, like most mothers, she devotes her life to them.

  But Porn wanted to do something meaningful. She was tired of the mundane routine and chores. She wanted to make a difference to someone else’s life. But what could she do? She is poorly educated and knows only how to be a mother. That in itself is a lifetime achievement for many women. But Porn, she is different.

  She befriended Kim, a single woman who was expecting her first baby for a Canadian couple. Porn was inspired by Kim, who introduced her to the world of surrogacy. Porn explored the same possibilities, learning from Kim, who shared her experiences. Porn escorted Kim to the clinic and hospital for her routine medical appointments. She studied the process closely by attending to her pregnant friend. Kim was studying to be a nurse and her mission as surrogate mother allowed her sufficient time to study without having to worry about living expenses. When Kim was about six months pregnant, Porn witnessed Kim’s peaceful contentment in her mission. Porn discussed the surrogacy option with her husband.

  Initially, her husband was dubious. As much as they needed the resources to move closer to the city, he was reluctant. They already had two children – he was afraid he would be stuck with another he couldn’t afford to keep. Further to this, he feared the neighbours’ slander and idle gossip over his wife’s undertaking. Not knowing the process, he also worried his wife would have some improper dealings with the male parent. So, to get better informed, they approached Kay, who shared her expertise on the entire surrogacy process and promised them that her clients are people of integrity whose backgrounds are thoroughly checked before she helps them pursue their ambitions. She explained the child would be a test-tube baby – there is no adulterous sex, nor do the eggs come from Porn, but other eggs belonging to someone else are placed by an embryologist into Porn’s uterus. Her role is limited to looking after the pregnancy and delivering a healthy baby to its biological parents. Kay also assured them the chances were negligible that the intended parents in her portfolio would not accept the baby. She had been responsible for hundreds of surrogacy arrangements, and had never witnessed this.

  She confirmed that Porn would be treated well, having the best hospitals and medical advice and, most of all, the chance to do something great in life for another. But there was one catch, the couple must divorce, at least on paper, if Porn was to take on the role of surrogate mother. None of Kay’s clients would consider Porn as a surrogate unless she was single or divorced. It was a big ask, an intrusion, and one that needed serious discussions between them. They were a happy couple and still very much in love. Whether for real or not, the decision to divorce weighed upon them for weeks. Was the option viable, or at least one they could live with during the term?

  After many long discussions every night for weeks, at home in the privacy of their bedroom, they decided this prospect did not clash with their morals. They agreed and approached Kay to tell her the good news.

  Kay immediately started prepping Porn for the surrogate role. The couple divorced and Porn dived in. An Australian couple chose her for the role but soon learned that the cycles of the biological mother and hers didn’t match and, at the very last minute, the couple opted for their second choice, a much younger surrogate, for the mission. Apparently this chopping and changing of surrogates is quite common, especially if a surrogate is not successful on the first try. Couples have about a 75 per cent chance at the first implant. If it doesn’t work at first go, some intended parents choose to see the surrogate mother as responsible for the failure.

  When Porn first appeared in my email inbox a few days earlier, we were told she had started her period on 12 April and was taking Progynova tablets, a medication that contains oestradiol valerate, a naturally occurring form of the main female sex hormone, oestrogen. Yesterday, when they checked the thickness of her uterine lining, it was 8.1 millimetres after six days of Progynova treatment. The lining before the expected transfer of embryos should ideally be at least 8 millimetres thick, so this was a good result. She would be taking the same dose of Progynova till the expected transfer date, which was estimated to be 30 April (this usually occurs five days after ovum pick up). By that time, it was likely her lining would be even more hospitable for our embryos.

  We order coffee, talk for a while, and stare at Kay every time Porn breathes a word. We are trying to work out what she is saying, as she too cannot speak English. We repeat our story as we did to Pimchanok. Rebecca notices how we pave the path, hoping to create an impression on Porn. But there is no box of chocolates in sight for her.

  Porn speaks softly, and listens intently to what we have to say. She smiles at various intervals, especially when she answers our questions. She is slightly nervous and shy, blushing at my flowery gestures.

  She is serious and attentive throughout the meeting. Although she has read the agreement several times beforehand, she stops at the clause where it says we would breach the agreement if we “do not accept the child”, telling us this was her husband’s and her only concern, because they can not afford to look after another child. She wants our promise that we will accept the child when she delivers. We smile with relief and tell Kay in English that this is the same thing we are most fearful of, that she will decide not to hand over our baby. Because she does not want the baby and we do, we feel reassured this wouldn’t happen. Everyone is
on the same page, so we sign on the dotted line – shaking hands afterwards as if we were sealing a gentlemen’s agreement – before I go to hug her. She is slightly taken aback, the reaction a sign of modesty from a woman who refuses to embrace any man other than her husband. Then she lets loose a smile, and turns to Kay with some last words in Thai.

  “Kindness,” Kay translates. “Kindness in your faces, you two kind people, like angels.”

  Funny, we feel exactly the same about her, this kind woman the angels have sent to us, who in years to come will be part of our family tree. She will one day feature in a story to our child as “the lady from Chiangmai who helped your daddies bring you into this world. She is your surrogate mother. Porn. Let’s call her your birth mother.”

  19

  “Your Eggs Aren’t Ready, Sir”

  We arrive at the All IVF clinic hoping that the OPU will be conducted today or at latest tomorrow. We sit tensely, staring at the Buddha effigy. I pray silently, asking my spirit guide to choose the date he deems fit. Dr Pisit does not arrive on time and my anxiety builds during the hour-long wait.

  Dr Pisit apologises for his late arrival, telling us he had to perform a delivery that morning in a nearby hospital.

  After Rebecca’s ultrasound, he announces firmly, “No retrieval today, not even tomorrow, I am afraid. But you are ready for a trigger injection on Saturday afternoon. You will fast Sunday night and Monday we will retrieve your eggs.”

  We all sigh.

  “How many eggs do we have?” Jayson asks.

  “About fourteen and they are a good size. I am confident for a good scoop. Jayson, you will deposit fresh sperm on Monday. Our lab will prepare both your gametes for fertilisation on Tuesday.”

  We sigh again. Not the timing we wanted. But there is no choice in the matter. “Doctor’s orders”, I guess.

  In Spurm’s office, she squeals at us after reading Rebecca’s medical charts.

  “So sorry, your eggs aren’t ready, sir.” She is sorry our plans got mucked around. She gives Rebecca the final dose of Folitropin and a take-home pack containing the trigger injection. The trigger injection needs to be given about thirty-six hours before egg collection. This injection contains hormones that loosen the eggs in the follicle and readies them for collection.

  With the news set in concrete, we hurry back to the hotel to change our flights. I experience issues flying Singapore Airlines to London. The cost of changing the flight at the last minute equates to buying a new ticket. I am not prepared to do so. We ring our friend Sophia from Qantas, who changes Rebecca and Jayson’s flights home to Sydney. We decide I will leave for London as planned. Jayson and Rebecca will go to the clinic the next morning to do the hour-long pickup and deposit procedures before making the ten-hour trip back to Sydney the same afternoon, despite advice against it.

  “I’ll be well enough to do this, I know myself. I will sleep throughout the flight, I promise,” Rebecca says. She wants to see her children, who are scheduled to leave Singapore on Sunday to return home, and Simon who is already home in Sydney.

  “She can have my business-class seat and she will sleep properly.” Jayson backs her up.

  I am hesitant, unsure it is a good decision. I am not ecstatic about leaving them both alone either. It is hard, but they keep reassuring me they will be fine.

  “It’s a piece of cake and why do you need to be here? It’s a minor procedure,” Jayson reassures me.

  I am still unconvinced. That night, we go to dinner with a definitive plan set in stone. The third of May is a crucial date. Implantation Day, I call it – the day the embryos are to be implanted into our Porn! Argghh, I am going to miss something. But I finally relent.

  I am so sad to leave Jayson and Rebecca behind. But I am certain they will manage this procedure without me. I have faith and belief in Dr Pisit, Kay and the medical team’s efficiency.

  If my presence tomorrow would have benefited them, I would have stayed. Nevertheless it is a tough decision to make on my part.

  It’s been a learning curve so far. We are lucky that we are at this point, I think. Not so long ago this was just a dream, but now we are almost at implantation, a step closer to becoming fathers. There is a lot more to do. Our approach is to take one thing at a time. I guess that is all we can do.

  My flight to London is in the evening. I spend the morning with Jayson while Rebecca has a manicure at the beautician down the road from the hotel.

  Afterwards, Rebecca prepares to get on Facetime to her children, who are still on holidays in Singapore. This is a ritual she has fulfilled every morning throughout the trip. She is distant with me, and I realise she is nervous about telling her children she won’t be in Singapore with them tomorrow but will instead meet them in Sydney on Tuesday morning. She wonders how to address their persistent nag, “Boy, oh boy,” the questions they will ask about why she needs to be in Thailand for three weeks, leaving them to their grandmother’s care.

  So far, she has only said she was helping Jayson and Aaron with something important. Not elaborating on what that something is. But today, she decides to tell them the full purpose of the trip. To reveal the truth about what is so important that Mummy won’t be there with them tomorrow.

  “They are old enough to understand and three weeks is a long time for any mother to be away from her children without telling them why,” she tells me. “I want to be an honest mother. That’s how I have always been with them.”

  On the Facetime call between Rebecca and her children, I sit at the corner of the living room, unnoticed by the camera’s prying eye but with her permission to listen to the conversation. It is beautiful to witness her conversation with her three young, innocent children.

  “You know Jayson and Aaron love each other very much and they have been together for a very long time, but there is something missing in their lives. Do you know what is missing?” she asks them.

  “Yeah, a sports car,” the eldest, Noah, jokingly responds while the two younger ones think on.

  “Go on, Noah, be serious, okay?” she says before he thinks of another answer.

  “I know! They need kids.” Ariel, the nine-year-old girl, hits the nail on the head.

  “Good, Ariel, you are right. A baby is what they need to complete their family. And because they want it so much, they need Mummy’s help because they can’t make a baby without Mummy’s help. They need Mummy’s egg and Mummy wants to give them the eggs because I know what great parents they will be.” They all look at her in bewilderment, trying to comprehend.

  “Do you have many eggs to give them, Mummy?” her youngest, Aidan asks.

  “Yes, Mummy has many eggs and if she does not give them to Jayson and Aaron, after a while the eggs won’t work anymore,” she says as a matter of fact.

  “What happens after you give them the eggs? Are you going to have a baby growing in your tummy?” Ariel asks innocently again.

  “Well, no, Mummy is not going to have their baby grow in my tummy. There is a nice doctor here in Thailand where Mummy has been with Jayson and Aaron and he is helping them, so when Mummy gives them the eggs, the doctor will fertilise Mummy’s egg in a laboratory like the one you have in your school science class and then once the eggs are hatched, another nice woman will have their baby grow in her tummy.”

  “Does this mean the baby is my brother or sister, and will it call you Mummy?” Noah asks.

  “Well, yes and no,” she replies to the question she knew her children would one day ask. “The baby will have some of your genes and it is your brother or sister, but it will be Jayson and Aaron’s baby. I am only Mummy to you three munchkins but I will love the baby as much as I love you guys, with all my heart, and you too will love the baby very much.”

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” Aidan asks.

  “I want a girl,” says Ariel.

  ‘No, a boy!” both Noah and Aidan scream out.

  “We don’t know if it will be a boy or a girl. It is still a few months away be
fore you will know.”

  “Can we look after the baby when Jayson and Aaron have a fashion show, play with the baby? I want to take her to the beach, feed her,” says Ariel, securing her future role.

  “Yes, you can do all of that and more,” she replies.

  It is touching listening to the conversation. Rebecca is articulate, answers their questions, and reassures them. As I listen to the voices of my excited cousins, their innocence touches me. I feel secure, included, perhaps because now I know these gorgeous kids are going to accept our child as their own, their sibling. They want a part in this. I badly want to be there so I can hug them. How proud I am they are going to be brothers and sister to my child, part of the same genetic composition. The contribution is significant. I realise how blessed and fortunate we are.

  I also realise I never ever wanted our kid to grow up not knowing the truth. I never wanted to hide anything.

  “My baby deserves the truth and whatever it is, we will tell them,” I say to Rebecca after the call. “I will explain to them in a language they understand, just like how you just did. You couldn’t have put it better.”

  The truth is, what Bec did was give her kids a choice. She included them. The inclusion allowed them to make up their own minds about what they thought. I applaud her.

  Afterwards, Jayson and I lounge by the pool, go to the gym and have lunch at an “organic food” restaurant. I leave for the airport at 3pm and am rather emotional on the way.

  My plane touches down at Heathrow International Airport early, at 6am. I switch my phone on at the nearest Wi-Fi counter. One after the other, texts come from Jayson.

  “Got them eggs out finally”

  “Deposit done”

  “Rebecca has pain in her tummy but she is ok”

  “We are at airport, flight on time, and can’t wait to get home”

  They are already airborne. Eggs and sperm collection were successful. Rebecca was placed under local anaesthetic and they retrieved eleven follicles. The clinic will email us tomorrow with the exact number of healthy mature eggs they have in the laboratory from the process of extraction.