A Little Help from Above (19 page)

“Like what?” Lauren began to breathe easier.

“Are you kidding? Don’t you remember how I used to shlep you and your friends all over the place? Oh and how about that time I drove you and what’s his name into the city so you could have a real date? And then…”

“Okay, okay.” Lauren laughed. “You were a good sister. Now what I need…is for you to be the best sister in the whole world.”

“Whoa.” Shelby held up her hand. “I thought you came here to say thanks. No pressure.”

“I lied?” Lauren bit her lip.

“Forget it.” Shelby looked down. “All I said was I’d get examined. That’s it.”

“What if we find a different doctor?” Lauren pleaded. “I spoke to my friend Elise, and she uses Murray Hill OB/GYN in the city. All the doctors are women, and she loves them…”

“It has nothing to do with who the doctor is, Lauren. It has to do with the personal decision I’ve made. I do not want to lie on a table getting sperm shot up me so I can spend the next nine months peeing and puking, until finally I get the privilege of dying during childbirth.”

Lauren picked at a hangnail. It didn’t take General Patton to see she was not only going to lose the battle, but the war. Time to resort to her final option. She suddenly threw herself onto the floor and begged. “Please, please, please have my baby,” she wailed so loud all the passengers within earshot looked over, trying to guess who these women were to each other.

“Stop it!” Shelby gritted. “You’re creating a scene. They’re going to think we’re gay.”

“I don’t care.” Lauren bawled. “I just wish Mommy was alive so she could see what a selfish person you turned into.”

“I resent that!”

“Well, I resent you, Shel. You got Mommy’s skinny body, her pretty face, her brains. All I inherited was her widow’s peak and DES!” She buried her face and sobbed.

Shelby wanted to pummel Lauren for acting out in public. “Look, I’m sorry you got gypped. But that still doesn’t give you the right to impose your dreams on me without any consideration of how it will affect my life.”

“I have no choice.” Lauren wiped her tears on her sleeve. “You’re the only one who can help me. And what about considering how your selfish decision will affect my life?”

“Why am I being selfish? Just because things didn’t turn out the way you wanted doesn’t mean I have to turn my whole life upside down and make everything better. If you and Avi are so gung ho about having a baby, then talk to an attorney about adoption.”

Suddenly the gate area was buzzing. Shelby wasn’t sure exactly how or when she lost control of their conversation. She only knew
from the din of debate, fellow passengers had taken it upon themselves to argue about which of the sisters was right.

In fact, opinions were flying, which was more than could be said for their flight. An unexpected delay was announced due to a surprise storm that had hit the Midwest, stranding dozens of planes in the air. But many of the passengers didn’t seem to care, as they were otherwise engaged.

“Sounds to me like you owe her.” A grandmother wagged her finger at Shelby.

“I loved being pregnant,” a young mother offered. “You get to eat whatever you want.”

“We would do it for each other.” Two older women, presumably sisters, clutched hands.

Shelby looked at the circle of strangers who felt within their rights to share their position on the matter. Had the world gone mad? Didn’t they realize that conceiving and carrying a baby was a life-altering decision that would have repercussions long after her uterus was vacated?

She would be linked biologically to this child forever, say nothing of the connection if they actually looked alike. People would presume they were mother and child, requiring an explanation of the relationship. But hadn’t she done enough explaining after Aunt Roz became her stepmother? The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of her life clarifying yet another unusual familial arrangement.

And yet looking into Lauren’s desperate eyes, Shelby couldn’t ignore their bond. In spite of their major differences, Lauren was still her baby sister. The one who climbed on her lap and begged to be read to. The one who followed her around the house pleading with Shelby to play. The one who drove out to the Hamptons to fetch Shelby when she was too stoned to get herself home. The one who sent flowers every time Shelby got a new job. The one who had really never asked anything of her, other than love and friendship.

Then again, she’d be crazy to make a decision of this magnitude with a gun to her head. If she said yes on impulse, she’d be committing herself to taking endless tests that involved needles. She’d be subjecting herself to humiliating, spread-eagle indignities at the doctor’s office. She’d have to take those awful iron pills, which she’d heard from friends made doodies come out hard as
rocks. Her wardrobe would consist of polyester jumpers. She’d have to eat.

But the greatest sacrifice, clearly, would be her own sex life. No doubt Lauren hadn’t considered that for a second. Why should she? She could still be getting it on with her husband while Shelby’s ankles swelled, her back went into spasms, and she had to pee every fifteen minutes. Oh, sure. She’d be real desirable then. Men would come running.

She could just imagine trying to get intimate with a man when she was, say, six months gone. “Don’t worry.” She’d smile at her protruding belly. “It’s not mine.”

On the other hand, nine months wasn’t that long of a commitment. Hell, she’d done investigative reports that took longer than that. And other than her commitments to Ian, it wasn’t as if she was actually busy at the moment, given she was neither employed nor in a relationship. Plus, what did she really expect to do when she got back to Chicago? Look for more freelance work? Become a consultant? She hated the idea of constantly having to solicit assignments.

It also occurred to her that the surrogacy idea no longer seemed as creepy and outlandish as it had when Lauren first mentioned it. In fact, now that the shock value wore off, it seemed fairly noble. No wonder women were offering their bodies in record numbers. To them, bringing life into the world for another was a true blessing. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to play God’s little helper.

Shelby cleared her throat. “If I did this would you think I was noble?”

Lauren’s eyes beamed. “I wouldn’t say noble exactly, but definitely gutsy. Oh, and moral.”

“Moral?”

“Yeah. I mean think about Daddy and Aunt Roz.” Lauren seized the possible breakthrough moment. “The reason you resented them so much was not only because they did something dishonest and impure, but because they took away your ability ever to trust them again. And in your mind, trust was the most sacred thing there was. Which is the same with me. I mean even though you like to come off tough as nails, we’re really the same. We’re not comfortable unless we know the people in our lives can be trusted implicitly.”

“Lauren, that may very well be the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said.”

“Well, I’m glad you understand where I’m coming from because it’s the same reason I keep telling you my surrogate can’t be a total stranger. If I pay a woman I don’t know to carry my baby, how can I be sure she won’t run out on me? Or change her mind and get an abortion? I’ve even heard stories where some of these women get pregnant and sell the baby to the highest bidder.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I swear to God.” Lauren talked faster and faster. “That’s why if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you want your surrogate to be someone who knew and loved you? Someone like your sister?”

Shelby closed her eyes. God help her. What should she do? What would her mother want her to do? Scratch that. She knew exactly what her mother would want her to do.

Call it serendipity, divine intervention, or even pregnancy poltergeist. But at that very moment, a young woman pushing a baby stroller entered the gate area and planted herself in the empty seat beside Shelby. Had some busybody passenger put her up to it?

None of the casual observers moved a muscle as they studied Shelby’s face, watching her watch the contented-looking woman and her smiling baby boy. When the mommy tickled his little foot, he chuckled. When she kissed his tiny hand, he kicked happily while downing his bottle.

Then he turned toward Shelby and cooed. If it was supposed to be a sign, it was working.

“You think we could have a baby this cute?” Shelby whispered.

“Are you kidding? With your genes?” Lauren squeezed her arm. “Even cuter.”

“I have to admit he is sort of precious.” Shelby’s heart pounded. “Excuse me?” she tapped the woman’s shoulder. “Did you like being pregnant?”

The woman stared at her. “I’m sorry?”

“My sister wants me to have her baby, and I was just wondering if pregnancy sucks.”

“Oh. Well, I may not be the best person to ask. I was considered high-risk and spent the last trimester confined to bed. But he was worth it. Weren’t you, Roger Rabbit?” She wiggled his nose.

Shelby nodded. Lauren would be just like this woman. Affectionate. Doting. Totally out of control with the goo-gooing and gagaaing. Actually, she’d make a great mother.

After a moment of silence, Lauren leaned over. “What are you thinking, Shel?”

Shelby hesitated. “Did you know I once thought I’d have seven kids?”

“You?” Lauren laughed. “No way.”

“Diaries don’t lie.” Shelby tossed the book in her bag. “But that was a lifetime ago. Right now I don’t even have seven friends…Anyway, I was also thinking about Daddy and Aunt Roz.”

“Why?” Lauren could not hide her disappointment that Shelby changed the subject.

“I don’t know. I guess I was thinking about the bizarre circumstances that brought them together. How none of it was planned. It just happened, and then somehow it all worked out fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Lauren held her breath. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s really about it.” Shelby shrugged. “Life doesn’t always go according to plan, but it’s possible to still get the happy ending.”

“So…does that mean you’ll think about it some more?” she gripped the arm of her seat.

“No. I can’t think about this for another second or I’ll take a bullet to my head. Let’s just say I might be willing to do this under two conditions.” She could hardly believe these words were spewing forth from her mouth.

“You name it!” the grandmother in the seat behind her yelled.

“It’s about time!” another interloper shouted.

“Anything.” Lauren nodded.

“You’d have to promise to stick to me like glue through the whole thing. And…you’d have to get Prada to make my maternity clothes, because I am highly allergic to polyester.”

Lauren leapt to her feet, mauling Shelby with hugs and kisses while bystanders cheered wildly. This was the decision they’d all hoped for. Shelby looked around at the jubilant crowd and shook her head. Indeed, the world had gone mad.

Did you guess it was me who created the wicked rainstorm in Chicago that brought O’Hare to its knees? It was pretty cool actually, delaying hundreds of westbound flights in midair, just so Lauren and Shelby had time to talk. Who would have thought that would be the easy part, compared to
finding parking at La Guardia? When did they build those ridiculously small lots? Before the advent of cars?

Anyway, I am absolutely beside myself with joy. The very idea that Shelby could have a baby for Lauren was such a crazy notion when it first came to me. Although even after I planted the seed of the idea in Lauren’s head, I never really believed she’d get Shelby to say yes.

But now that she did, wouldn’t a little girl be so nice? Then Lauren could get a chance to experience that whole mother-daughter bonding thing she missed out on. Of course a little boy would be great, too. Is anything sweeter than a son holding his mother’s hand?

Maybe Lauren shall have both. Just not at the same time, of course. Oh, God. Could you imagine Shelby carrying twins? Forget I even said that.

From the moment Shelby agreed to act as the Streiffler surrogate, every word out of Lauren’s mouth was about THE BABY; every medical, legal, emotional, and financial issue they’d have to address to prepare for THE BABY. The regularity of Shelby’s menstrual cycle, so they could time the first insemination to make THE BABY.

Lauren mistakenly assumed because this was a partnership agreement in the full nine months of the word, Shelby would be anxious to be part of the planning. To the contrary, all Shelby cared about was not feeling slimed when Avi’s sperm invaded her cervix. Never was it her intent to become a walking biology dictionary or an expert on artificial reproductive technologies.

Which is why she had no problem boarding her flight to Chicago the fateful afternoon she agreed to the surrogate scenario. “It’s really simple,” Shelby explained when Lauren grabbed her leg, just as she would to Aunt Roz when a baby-sitter showed up. “If I’m staying in New York for a while, I need my clothes, I need to have my mail forwarded, I have to decide what to do with my condo and my car. And, you may not believe this, but I’m very concerned about my plant.”

Lauren pleaded with her to take care of these things later, certain if Shelby stepped foot on that plane, she’d become a fugitive. Then Lauren would have to pay a private detective to set up an international manhunt, and that would be so time-consuming and expensive, Daddy might change his mind about paying for everything, and then she’d never have THE BABY.

“I promise I’ll be back in three or four days. You have my word.”

“Give me Mommy’s locket.” Lauren sniffed. “Then I’ll know you’re not lying.”

“Hell no.” Shelby clutched the tiny heart of diamonds her father gave her the day of her mother’s funeral. She’d never removed it, not even on her mountain-climbing trip to the Andes.

“Yes!” Lauren stamped. “It’s the only way you can prove to me you’re coming back.”

“I’m not taking it off just so you don’t go off into some paranoid, schizophrenic zone. You know that thing we just discussed called trust? I gave you my word. That should be good enough.”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll keep my eye on her,” the nice grandmother whispered to Lauren as she boarded the plane.

But surveillance wasn’t necessary, as Shelby not only made good on her promise, she returned a day earlier than expected, with blessings of approval from David, Dr. Kahn, and even Walter Sipowicz, whose home she would not leave until he agreed to listen to her bizarre tale.

She confided to all of them that in spite of the cataclysmic upheaval that had catapulted her back home, she couldn’t ever remember being more at peace. Not bad considering she was unemployed, single, and about to become impregnated with the aid of her brother-in-law’s semen from a catheter disguised as a high-tech turkey baster. Thanksgiving would never be the same.

Shelby would never have guessed that after she lost her job, her dance card would still be filled from morning to night. Some days were veritable juggling acts, getting to meetings, appointments, and the hospital without running into major scheduling conflicts.

“I need a secretary,” she winced, looking at her date book, then the clock. It was only 7
A.M
., but if she was going to get in her three-mile jog, shower and dress and be at the hospital by eight, she was already running late. And late was not an option, as she would be seeing the reproductive endocrinologist at nine, the adoption attorney at eleven, and Ian at two. Oh, for the good old days when she could enlist the aid of underlings to, on a moment’s notice, move her meetings up, back, or cancel them entirely if they no longer served her purpose.

As an independent operator, however, she alone had to do the
juggling. And the people to whom she now reported, her father and Aunt Roz, were not exactly flexible. They insisted Shelby visit first thing in the morning before they were whisked off to their own hectic schedule of X-rays, physical therapy, and surgery.

Dr. Weiner, on the other hand, was weak and incoherent in the morning, particularly if he’d gone through chemo the previous day. He preferred Shelby to visit in the afternoon, when he felt strong enough to sit up or be wheeled to the solarium.

No one was more taken aback than Shelby when she forged a bond with her nemesis, as their friendship began unexpectedly. Instead of whizzing past his room as she normally did, one morning it dawned on her he might be a good source for her DES article. She’d hit a brick wall trying to get doctors to openly admit to having prescribed the drug, and who better than a dying man to fess up? Turned out Dr. Weiner not only had excellent recall of the DES days, he remembered the dozens of patients to whom he’d given it. Once again she was off and running.

In gratitude, the next day she stopped by to chat, and the day after that, only to discover Dr. Weiner was not only well versed on a variety of subjects, but had a wicked sense of humor. From then on, it wasn’t unusual for Irma to walk in and find the two of them howling with laughter over something silly, oblivious to his imminent death.

On one occasion, however, there were tears. Dr. Weiner happened to comment on the remarkable similarities between Shelby and her mother, and although Shelby was delighted with the comparison, she choked up at the realization she was hearing these words in a place she previously refused to go, from a man she previously refused to acknowledge.

Dr. Kahn would never believe that his most obstreperous patient had made such enormous strides without his assistance. But Shelby was not only marching through the halls of North Shore every day, she knew the shortcuts connecting the wings. She could also greet many of the doctors and nurses by name, even those whose names had six consecutive consonants.

As much as I prayed Shelby would come to grips with her unhappy childhood and finally move on, I was beginning to think she was a hopeless cause. But I was wrong. She not only laid to rest her battles with her father
and Roz, she took the single most courageous step of her selfish life by agreeing to carry Lauren’s child. Frankly, this is the kind of magic moment a parent waits for. The sign that their self-centered, wicked-tongued child does in fact have a conscience and a heart. Sure, I waited longer than most to get this kind of validation. Then again, is there ever a bad time to get good news?

“Technically, this is a very simple process,” Dr. Vincent Grasso explained to the group. “All we need is one sperm, one egg, and one uterus.”

“Yeah, and thirty thousand dollars,” Avi whispered.

“Shhh!” Lauren’s ears reddened. “We’ve been through this. Daddy’s taking care of it.”

Dr. Grasso smiled; the warm-up to his canned speech. “I assure you, whatever your concerns, we do everything possible to make this a positive experience for everyone involved. But before we get to the nitty-gritty of how things work at the Family Reproductive Institute, I’d like to take a few minutes to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Three heads nodded in unison, like the bobbing dolls sold at Thruway gift shops.

“Shelby, let’s start with you, dear. I understand your sister and brother-in-law have discussed their situation with you at great length, and have also discussed the psychological, financial, and legal ramifications of your decision to act as their surrogate.”

“In our family we don’t discuss, we ramrod.” Shelby tried smiling. “But yes, I’m aware this is the biggest decision of my life. I just hope when it’s all over, I have no regrets.”

“Very understandable, which is why I can’t stress enough the importance of working out any conflicts or concerns in advance through psychological evaluations.”

“No need.” Shelby smirked. “When I said yes to this, I already knew I was crazy.”

“What she means,” Lauren interrupted, “is that she’d be crazy not to help us because she loves us so much.”

“I still kent understand what is the need for laboratories and fertility drugs,” Avi said.

“Fertility drugs?” Shelby was finally paying attention. “What fertility drugs?”

“We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here”—Dr. Grasso blew his nose—“but I’ll be happy to explain. When the maternal age of the surrogate is over thirty-five, we generally do two consecutive intrauterine inseminations each menstrual cycle, using Clomid for five days prior to ovulation to stimulate the ovaries and, hopefully, increase the number of eggs that mature.”

“Clomid’s not a shot,” Lauren assured Shelby. “I’ve taken it. They’re these tiny little pills.”

“Yeah, like the tiny little pills Mommy took,” Shelby gritted. ‘Good news, Mrs. Lazarus. Forget any more of those nasty miscarriages. The bad news is, you might get cancer.’ Now it’s, ‘Good news, Shelby. You might be having a litter. The bad news is, you might get cancer.’”

“If I could interject here”—Dr. Grasso coughed—“I understand your concerns, but according to the family’s medical history, your mother received eleven thousand milligrams of DES over a one-year period, with devastating results. But Clomid is not in the same class of drugs, nor has it been proven harmful to either the mother or the fetus. Besides, we’re talking about such a limited exposure, the only possible side effects might be headaches and bloating. Maybe some cramping.”

“What about weight gain?” Shelby’s heart raced.

“It’s possible, but we don’t consider that a serious problem.”

“Easy for you to say.” Shelby folded her arms.

“My sister’s a fanatic about her weight.” Lauren smiled. “But I’m sure she’ll get over it once she actually gets pregnant.”

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Grasso nodded, quite familiar with vain women who wanted to experience the joys of pregnancy without deforming their gym-hard bodies. “Now insofar as Clomid increasing the odds of multiple births, again, there’s a slightly elevated chance, but in your case, by virtue of your age, the risk is already present. As is the risk of miscarriage. A maternal age of thirty-eight carries the possibility of a one-third chance of loss within the first trimester.”

“Uh-huh.” Shelby hated bad odds worse than she hated fear of failing.

“Now the one risk that greatly concerns us, of course,” Dr. Grasso continued, “is the spread of infection through insemination of contaminated sperm.”

“You mean AIDS?” Shelby shuddered. Dr. Grasso had no idea
how real that risk was. Lord knows if even Avi had kept count of the number of women he’d had sex with.

“AIDS, gonorrhea, any sexually transmitted disease…”

“Avi’s clean,” Lauren jumped in. “He’s been tested.”

“Yes, I’m sure he was,” Dr. Grasso replied. “Nevertheless, prior to any insemination, we do extensive screening of the donor’s blood, then wash and process the sperm catch to make sure nothing infectious is transmitted to the surrogate. It’s standard operating procedure.”

“Thank God,” Shelby mumbled.

“As for your suggestion, Mr. Streiffler, that all of this effort could be avoided by opting for copulation, I understand your thinking.” He winked. “But we don’t go down that road for the simple reason the divorce rate would surely exceed the birth rate. We’ve found it’s best to reduce this matter to a painless medical procedure that hopefully ends with the same happy results.”

Avi shrugged. “I still think the odds are better if we go the natural way.”

“No”—Shelby glared—“because the odds of my letting you touch me are slim to none.”

“Cut it out,” Lauren whispered to Shelby. “He’s going to think we don’t have any team spirit…Doctor, could you tell us how many months it usually takes for the surrogate to get pregnant?”

“Of course,” Dr. Grasso replied while looking through some paperwork. “We have a 75 percent to 85 percent success rate with intrauterine inseminations using fresh donor semen when the procedure is repeated for an average of three consecutive months.”

“And what about the 25 percent who fail?” Shelby asked. “You probably tell the prospective parents to find themselves another surrogate. Right?”

“Not necessarily.” Dr. Grasso looked up. “If after three months there hasn’t been a conception, we simply move on to the next phase, which is a bit more aggressive.”

“You mean in vitro fertilization.” Lauren wanted to show she was in familiar territory.

“In vitro and/or the use of different types of fertility drugs.”

“Nothing doing.” Shelby grabbed Lauren’s hand. “Three strikes and I’m out. Game over.”

“Perhaps it’s best not to cross that bridge unless we have to.” Dr.
Grasso was growing impatient. “Naturally, we do everything possible to ensure success, and if the surrogate is in good physical health, and of a cooperative nature, we’re better than halfway there.”

“Oh, don’t worry about Shelby.” Lauren patted her hand. “She’s the most cooperative person the world.”

“Yes, I see that.” Dr. Grasso smirked.

Team BABY’s next stop was the attorney’s office, where Shelby’s only question after meeting the lawyer was how smart this woman could be if she chose to hyphenate her name. “I’m telling you, if I was born Nancy Less, and was dumb enough to marry a Thomas Moore, the least I would have done was pick one of their surnames. Not both.”

“That’s what bothers you?” Lauren cried, after dropping Avi off at the house to get his car. “That her name is Mrs. Less-Moore?”

“Damn right. Don’t you see? If her personal judgment is so bad, how good could her legal judgment be? It’s like being introduced to a hairdresser and wondering, if she’s so great at styling hair, what’s that rat’s nest on top of her head?…I’m never going to make the train.”

“Yes, you will. You’ve got seven minutes, and I know all the shortcuts to the station.”

“At least Avi is good for something.” Shelby yawned.

“Don’t pick on him, Shel. This is never going to work if you two don’t stop fighting.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just not crazy about the guy, especially since he won’t shut up about screwing me, rather than jerking off into a Dixie cup. I thought you worked all this out already.”

“We did. You just don’t understand him. That’s all.”

“Oh, I understand him fine.” Shelby looked at her watch again.

“You’ll make it. I promise.” Lauren ran a red light.