Dads: A gay couple's surrogacy journey in India (22 page)

So much to do, yet when you get to it, every meeting with the family court lasts less than an hour, the meeting with our family attorney was over in forty-five minutes, ordering the crib from IKEA was done in ten minutes, looking at various packages of formula at different grocery stores takes five minutes, looking for poison free baby bottles at the pharmacy only took a disappointing two minutes, and I felt it was too soon to buy them already. I can always do that the week before we leave.

They called in from the baby store, telling us that our stroller had arrived. We'll pick it up on Sunday, another twenty-five minutes there.

I read an e-mail from our
agency
in Mumbai, one of the doctors, informing us that our dear surrogate is doing well, I quote:

[She] had been for an antenatal checkup (ANC) on 29-Jan at Hiranandani hospital. Her weight at 30weeks of gestation is 74 kgs, her pulse is 78/minute and her B.P. is 120/80 mmHg. The fetal heart sound is regular. Pallor and edema is not observed. Dr. Soni has advised her to continue taking iron, calcium and a high protein diet. Her next follow-up is after 2 weeks.

[She] has expressed a wish to Skype with the both of you sometime. Kindly let us know if you would like to Skype with her and mail me the date and time that you are comfortable with in Indian Standard time (IST).

It took me two minutes to read the message and another two to compose a response. We scheduled our second call for next Friday, 6 am our time. I don't know what to ask. It seems we get so much information that we already know everything. We did try to show her the house, walking around like idiots, laptop in front of me, showing her every room in the house, as one of the employees at the agency translated our English for her. I'm not sure she saw much, as it was still dark here at that time of day, and the lights often blind the web cam.

She had no questions for us so we finished our call after fifteen minutes, frustrated over our inability to communicate with the most precious person in our lives right now.

We are still getting questions from our friends and loved ones about the baby's sex, his name, people reminding us to sleep now, as if we'll never see sleep again after Sascha's born. We'll see about that. People keep telling us to have sex, as if that would stop after you have a child. Alex and I find ourselves discussing vacation plans, what we can and cannot do with a baby, what we want to do, and what not.

As a writer, I have plenty (too much?) time on my hands to read, think, write, express myself. I have all these plans for our son, and the sibling we plan to start 'baking' in March, using the remaining embryos in cold storage from last summer. This, of course, starts me on warped thoughts, the fact that both children would have been seeing their lives start on the same day, aka conception day, which I proposed we should celebrate, a stupid idea Alex thinks. The twenty seventh of July will be the first anniversary of conception day for both kids. We could celebrate it annually, incorporating the knowledge of their method of conception, gestation and birth into a simple ceremony, making the 'odd' normal. But how do you explain to #2 that s/he spent the first nine months in a freezer? 

You see, too much time on my hands.

Will it be awkward to bring home the stroller on Sunday? Empty? For us, having to load it onto the ferry, for all neighbors to see, makes us an instant topic of conversation, unlike other parents, where the tummy has been a dead giveaway, the empty stroller pushed in front of it just another signal that things are getting close. Two men pushing that same empty stroller are merely taunting people's imagination, starting the gossip on our tiny island community. Oh well, at least amongst those who don't already know, that is… I had a doctor's appointment the other week, a check up for my asthma, and I ended up having to give blood. The nurses were chatting, knowing about our plans since Alex and I had to be tested for a million different STDs last summer, before being allowed to become IPs (Intended parents for you newbies). Doctor-patient confidentiality doesn't exist out here, the conversation about our son seeping through open doors for anyone to hear. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Besides, spewing my innermost thoughts on a blog that has been read by almost a million people, who am I to argue?

Anyway, seven weeks and two days before our flight leaves to Mumbai, if all goes according to plan. For those of you who've never been to India before, here's a little something, a little
glimpse of a day in Mother India's life
.

Love & Light

Dear son!

You're now 31 weeks gone, two days into what we here in Scandinavia refer to as week 32. (I wish the world would unite behind a common standard, it's so confusing.) I'm not even sure if we're eight months pregnant or still seven. According to this
website
, we're in month eight, and it is also a testament to the confusion with regards to times and dates when it comes to pregnancies. Thank god, I'm really not sure I can take this much longer.

You're pretty big already, aren't you? This picture was taken a week ago.

Btw, your dear surrogate looks absolutely radiant & beautiful,

the longer you two are together!

Boy, we're desperate to finally meet you! At least you're growing fast enough that we can expect you two weeks before your due date. We still don't have the final date or if you'll be leaving your womb through a c-section or the 'normal' way, but I heard from our dear surrogate last Friday, during our second Skype call, that you were doing well, summersaulting all day long, keeping her up at nights. Behave, son, your surrogate needs her rest. LOL Just kidding, enjoy the time you've got left in there, grow and make the most of it.

Speaking of your surrogate and the Skype call, she mentioned that she was getting tired, and ready to release you into the world. She mentions that she is doing well (and looking good, giggling and happy), despite your night time antics.

We received new health updates and it seems there are a couple of kinks still with her cholesterol & sodium levels that are being addressed by the doctors. We hope to hear back on how they will treat that in the coming days. At least we heard that the pregnancy diabetes seemed to have disappeared again. Now, preliminarily, you're scheduled to be joining us week 38, i.e. two weeks before you're due. I guess that is because of your size and to protect the surrogate. She's so tiny and your dad and mother are relatively tall, I don't know. Depending on the next antenatal check-up next week, and the results from all the blood work, etc. we may even get to meet you a little bit sooner. We are almost ready here, give us another two to three weeks and we're good to go.

.

Your crib, assembled and ready,

before the cats had discovered it...

Your crib has arrived but your dad and I are thinking of buying a second one since yours has already been occupied, as you can see from the picture. With the stroller and car seat in place, all we 'really' need now is to buy some baby bottles to feed you and some formula. We've got clothes and the flights and hotel are booked. What we're still working on is all the documentation around custody and the adoption for Alex, but we'll get there, don't worry. If the doctors decide to bring you to light another week or so early, your dads will be in that waiting room right next to the delivery room, waiting for you, pacing the room impatiently, no cigars (I'm badly allergic).

What else is going on? Well, oddly, we've had plenty of social activities lately, and all our acquaintances with children tell us (they're all straight!) to enjoy, as it will be the end of our lives once you're born. It's things like “enjoy the opera, it'll be the last one for a long time” and “what, going out again? Well, enjoy, you won't be doing that for the next eighteen years!” Are all straight people so boring? I know I'm being sarcastic, but just because we have a child doesn't mean we stop living and enter into some sort of cocoon to never reappear from… That may be fine for some people, but it's not me and it's not your dad either.

So steel yourself son, you'll be joining us on many an adventure as soon as you can, be it traveling, going to museums, parties, or openings. We won't abandon you, but I think it's only healthy that we continue to enjoy our lives as adults with five or six opera nights per year, just as we do today. We have great babysitters lined up (more volunteers than opera shows!), so there is no need for you to worry. And once we're done, we'll rush home to take you into our arms again. You can get by without us for a few hours, can't you? Yeah, that's what I thought…

Besides, what good are parents that are social outcasts and recluses?

I'm not sure what this is all about, whether they are warming the bed for you, or just love the confined, cozy space, but boy, I think we may need to buy you a crib of your own. Not sure I'd want you this close to our cats while you're so small and fragile. I have a hunch they'll keep us up all night, much more so than you ever will...

We're also still getting plenty of good tips on child rearing. Oh, you have no idea. Last night, an old hag (unpleasant woman indeed) asked me if I knew anything about how to take care of a baby, with the obvious undertone, “being male, gay and all…” *sigh* What do you say? All I said was, “We'll get there, it's not like the rest of new parents are born with that knowledge, mentioning reading and studying up on stuff…” It's not as if your dad and I are complete idiots. There're plenty of books, and YouTube videos, and if you replace the omnipresent “mom” with either me or your dad, we'll be just fine.

Two of our good friends just had their daughter two days ago… Little Ebba. She was two and a half weeks early. I guess she'd had enough. We were at their house only last Sunday for tea and crumpets and Ebba didn't move at all (except for a hiccup), but then, four days later, the mother's water broke. Oddly, she'd told me that normally, the water doesn't break until you're at the hospital. Well, normally…

And we've seen that 'normally' doesn't always apply, given all the kinks we've had to endure so far. I wonder what else Mr. Murphy has up his sleeve before you're safely tucked into our arms. At least there was some
good news
from India. Looks like the path is clear for us to 'bake' you a little sister or brother!

I'll let you get back to your summersaults now, son. I'll talk to you soon. Be good, treat your dear surrogate nicely, and listen to our voices and the music she plays for you!

Love,