Dads: A gay couple's surrogacy journey in India (29 page)

Part of the amazing team at SurrogacyIndia,

celebrating our son with us.

Because, had we done the surrogacy in the United States, a “western” country, the Swedish authorities would've accepted the agreements, and a lot of the documentation in a simplified process. But since we're doing this in India, no such luck. Because you can't trust these Indians, right? I mean, with all the dirty mongrels living on the street, the beggars at every street light, these people barely walk upright, Sweden cannot be expected to respect Indian laws and justice? No, of course not, and the racism displayed by Swedish authorities is so abhorrent, so disgusting and revolting that it makes me ashamed at times to be a Swede. Oddly, until recently, when the Indian government started changing its surrogacy laws, this country was world leading. Great, modern legislation, that worked for everybody.

But alas, in a country where there are criminals, the government is changing the laws, rather than chase the bad guys, it vilifies the very people who bring over a billion US$ into the country, single moms, dads and gay couples. The other billion comes from infertile str8 couples, where the woman, for various reasons, can't carry her own children. We hope, of course, that the Indian government will still change its mind and go after the bad guys, but, not unlike the Swedish authorities, it's easier to distrust the “others” than to sweep your own doorstep…

Needless to say, this long battle is totally worth it. Sascha is the most amazing kid (I know, all parents say so) ever. He's slightly colicky, but we've got both western and Indian remedies to help him. He eats like a horse and has already gained 300 g after having lost 300 after birth. He keeps his dads on their toes, particularly at night, where for some reason, he's more awake or his colic gives him more pain. We've become quite good at changing diapers with one hand, making sure he doesn't pee on us or his clothes with the other (and plenty of Kleenex), holding his bottle with our chins, while answering texts from our loved ones back home or elsewhere around the world. Because
like I said the other day
, Sascha's got some fierce fans, and they want their daily fix!

After tomorrow's appointment at the consulate, it takes approximately a week for the paperwork to clear (unless - gods forbid - we fucked up somewhere) and for us to get his passport. Then, we have one last hurdle to clear, the FRRO, the Indian police bureau issuing the exit visa for Sascha. Then we head home. That is if all goes well. We have Wednesday and Thursday as backup days, but any more delays (sometimes, just a few hours are enough to throw all careful planning out the window) and we have to rebook our tickets and prolong our stay here at the hotel.

Feeding Sascha, one of my daily joys. Well, maybe except for the graveyard shift at 4 am, but oh well, fifteen years from now, we'll be hard pressed to get him out of his teenage bed...

Not that it isn't pleasant, because, trust me, it is! Dropping my towels on the bathroom floor where they are magically replaced twice a day, fresh bottles of water for Sascha's formula replenished daily, plenty of Kleenex to wipe and clean with, the beds made for us, and even the laundry returned the same day, not to mention the amazing food prepared in the various kitchens of the palace. Needless to say, I dread the day when I drop the towel to the bathroom floor only to still see it there the next day, realizing it'll be up to me to have it washed, that we'll starve unless I cook…

Leaving India will be very difficult. It's been amazing to spend all this time with Alex and with Sascha, for the three of us to bond, kick-start our little family, to meet all the amazing friends we have here in Mumbai, spending time, visiting. But in the end, while this is as close to home as I'll ever be anywhere in the world, it's still not our house, not our bed, our kitchen, and therefore, there is this longing to bring Sascha home, to our house, to have him meet the cats, the fish, smell the fresh ocean air on the porch, show him off to our friends and family back home, put him to sleep in his bed, next to ours, take him on walks in his stroller, drive him to places in our car. It'll be good to go home, but I really do look forward to these last two weeks here in Mumbai, in India, my son's native country, this country we all love so much, and to which we, no doubt (to answer questions from friends here), will return to.

Yesterday we fought two battles, one with an HP printer at the Swedish Consulate General (remind me to buy them a copier…) and one with the FRRO (Foreigner Registration Regional Office) here in Mumbai.

As a Swedish citizen, I know that our bureaucrats can be tough, often heartless, sticking to the letter rather than doing what's right, but they are seldom corrupt, although more and more such cases appear back home. I expected to be treated fairly, and we were. It just took forever to make copies of all the documents we had to present. Had we known, I could've taken them ahead of time, but I wasn't sure if that would be legal, so I didn't…

The signing of the documents, which I didn't do until we were there, due to the demands of the family court back home and my “fear” of making mistakes, took all but five minutes. What an anticlimax. But the clerk at the consulate was extremely kind and gentle and it was, although excruciatingly long, a good experience. Hopefully, in a week's time, we'll be back to collect Sascha's pink, temporary, passport.

After our date at the consulate, our agency informed us that we'd have to get an additional letter from the Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) to be allowed to leave the country. This is a brand new requirement by the Indian authorities, something they “invented” last Friday, out of the blue. But, as always in India, when dealing with the government, there is a catch. There are two ways to get this letter from New Delhi, either you pay a hefty bribe, and you get it in seven working days (prolonging our stay by approximately ten days, given weekends, delays, and bad luck), or, you don't pay the bribe and you get to wait for a month.

The people working for the Indian government aren't stupid. They know that as parents to our little treasures, we've invested hundreds of thousands (or lakh, as they say here) rupees to make this dream come true, and now that we're hours or days from leaving the country, they know they can squeeze us for some additional cash. There is no reason for this letter. After all, the supporting documentation is extensive, all the documents, agreements and legal contracts have been duly notarized. This is just a way to harass us, and squeeze us for some dough, very similar to the “visa” fines we all have to pay, and to make the "baksheesh" legal, they add a formal requirement… Out of the blue, with no change to the law, with no grandfathering clause or anything. Completely illegal, but who cares, since we really don't have a choice. Going to court would take months, years, and no foreigner is willing to take that chance.

As you may know, in August last year, the Indian government stopped all medical visas to single-gendered couples and singles. The only way to get here was on a tourist visa (even the medical visa I got last July was a tourist visa, god knows the difference really…) But, at the FRRO, we pay a hefty fine before we get to leave for having a visa they no longer issue. Some reports say 30, others say 120 USD per visa. Another way to make an extra rupee, and I have no doubt that the ministry of finance in Delhi never sees one of those rupees. They all end up in someone else's pocket.

Last night we were frustrated, of course. When your mind is set to return home to your bed, your house, on a particular date and that falls apart, you get depressed. Naturally! At the same time, we are in this amazing place, we have so many friends who cheer us on and who support us, we get to laze by the pool, enjoy the sun and amazing food (which, as vegetarians, we'll miss the second we get off the plane in Frankfurt), so why wouldn't we want to stay for ten extra days of blissful and sweet do nothing?

Because we long for home. We long for our cats, our friends back home, our families. Sascha's grandparents will want to see him, and, believe it or not, Alex has a job to return to. The longer we're gone, the less income we have, which ads further injury to our gaping budget holes due to this prolonged stay.

Mumbai, such an amazing city, yet so corrupt!

Oh well, today things are brighter. We haven't exactly resigned, and we're looking into alternatives, because if
FRRO
takes 30K for seven day delivery, I'm sure 100K will get the job done faster… Whatever it takes! I have few hopes that the PM Singh will read this post or that his finance minister will read it. But I'm saddened by the state the Indian bureaucracy is in. Corruption and harassment seem to be at the very heart of this country's government, at every layer. No wonder India's not going anywhere anytime fast. Progress is stagnating, growth as well, and the people on the streets are losing hope. This saddens me greatly, because Mother India is a nation with so much potential, such an amazing culture and so much love. She deserves better than this...

Sascha has his first passport… And this is what it looks like.

Yesterday we spent the entire morning at the Indian Police, the FRRO, where foreigners need to register if they stay long periods of time, need visas transferred, etc. The place is a disgrace, even for a developing country. But that's another story, after all, it's India's image to the foreign residents in their country.

Sascha's emergency passport for his journey home.

I wish I could keep it, but sadly,

the German authorities will collect it

upon entry into the Schengen zone...