Designer Baby

by Aaron Elias Brunsdon

  Nevertheless, life after chemotherapy wasn’t easy and if anyone thought it was going to be a walk in the park, they were completely wrong. The recovery process is a long and painful journey in many respects. Jayson had extreme weight gain along with pains in his joints and body almost daily. He dealt with each ailment quietly, striving to concentrate on the recovery process. It took him nearly three years to get back his health prior cancer.

  In those three years, life proved more challenging than ever. Business was tough and the GFC escalated further. We closed the American enterprise. The collections suffered, as we were relying on staff to run the designs. We were there sporadically but not enough to ensure adequate management. This, together with the recession, led to the business suffering immensely. All our stores endured major losses and declining consumer confidence was felt rapidly in our five retail outlets, one in Singapore and the rest in Australia. We found the situation very hard to manage. Neither of us had anything left; our energies were all drained after having put all our concentration on Jayson’s recovery. Sales declined further, funds were limited and our cash flow was negligible. We struggled to pay the staff’s wages and running a business with lean capital is no recipe for success.

  Finally in 2011, we had had enough. It was no way to live, especially after experiencing the fragility of life. We did not want this stress. We wanted to enjoy what life had to offer. Myer’s group general manager Judy Coomber, a close and loyal friend, helped us consolidate the remaining business we had. We never ever forgot her kindness. We closed all the stores, retrenched most of our staff, got rid of our design studio and sold off what we had, with one staff member remaining. We had not reached a resolution on how to pay millions of dollars’ worth of bills and our business was insolvent. There were no answers and the money tree was bald. Our home was mortgaged and our life savings and everything we had built thus far had been diminished to hardly anything. We were gutted, but we had our integrity intact and despite everything, the one most important thing I still had was Jayson and that in itself was more important than anything else. He was alive and well and we would slowly recover everything back.

  In August 2011, after everything we had done on advice from Judy, there was still no resolution to the pending mountain of debts and the pressures from creditors, some knocking at our door at home and the bills we had incurred with solicitors in the fight with the investors. We decided to call it quits, surrender the business and all its remains to trustees and enter into voluntary administration. We lost everything, and were left with a mountain of personal debts and personal guarantees to pay ourselves. We were below ground zero.

  The stress got to me most; I was worried that this would affect Jayson, having just barely recovered from his illness. Jayson was crushed too, his dreams vanished into thin air. We had to start all over again with nothing. But we were resilient. After all we, and particularly Jayson, had been through cancer; this was a drop in the ocean, figuratively speaking.

  After administration, it was difficult for Jayson to even contemplate designing a frock.

  We were back to square one without any money. After working so hard all those years and being at the height of celebrity and wealth, we lived on handouts from family and friends. Our parents, bless them, helped us a lot, buying groceries and shopping for food so that we could eat. It was a slow recovery, and it took almost three years to rebuild our business. With the help of Bill Wavish, ex-CEO of Myer and friend of Judy Coomber, we slowly regained a small threshold. Bill is a one-of-a-kind gentleman, philanthropist and a true good Samaritan. He advised, assisted and worked with us to clear the company’s financial problems. We introduced a new line for Myer, a diffusion of the brand, called Jayson Brunsdon Black Label. Black Label became our saviour and helped us get back into the forefront. Black Label filled the gap Myer needed to offer more price-sensitive, wearable clothes to the masses. Black Label defined this niche. Jayson’s designs were essentially event dressing and evening wear, targeting the customers who were able to afford designer clothes. In addition, Myer needed to reach the discerning woman, intellectual and with a disposable income. They wanted her to be able to wear the clothes to work and then out later. “Desk to Dinner” was the fashion term for the line. Black Label was the one to do this with Myer. We would work with Myer and design the Black Label collection which later developed into event dressing. Black Label proved so successful that later Myer approached us to go into homewares, believing the credibility of the brand and its name would allow growth into other commodities, other lines that would appeal to the Myer’s customer. Our homewares line grew into one of Myer’s most successful homeware brands, becoming one of a few of their designers that could translate their name into various categories. It remains a top performer to this day. Both Judy and Bill were business geniuses – they knew exactly how to fix our situation and they did. They helped us get our feet on the ground again after administration. Bill said to us once, “We need to get the ‘joie de vivre’, the joy of life, back into you both.” Dealing with cancer, the business battle and then the administration, we had actually thought maybe this was it – time to pack up and go, move on and do something else. Hammered and downtrodden, we had lost all confidence. But fashion was all we knew and wanted. Now was the time to rebuild all that was lost.

  I have read many times that the majority of successful people in business have suffered great losses in life. My father always said to me, “The best lessons of life are usually the ones that cost you most.” We learned from the mistakes. We had thought we could rule the world and if we hadn’t had cancer thrown into the mix, we would probably have been more equipped to deal with things – but perhaps it was a sign from above to slow down. “Hold your horses” was my motto going forward from this point.

  In many respects, I think our recovery was God paying us back; we had had enough bad luck and ugly situations, and now it was somewhat over. It couldn’t go any further down so it had to start moving upwards. Three years after administration, things had turned around. Our lives were simpler, less stressed without the pressure of running a huge business. Instead, guided by Bill and Judy’s vision, we simplified life in general. We chose to work smarter and take lower risks. We were living better now and were slowly paying off our debts. With the positive changes and Jayson’s continuously rising health, we had another plan and it had nothing to do with business. It was to secure our future – the future of having a family, having a baby.

  There, I said it; we wanted a family, our own family. Someone to love and care for and someone we could pass on our values to love unconditionally – “oneness”, a reflection of the two of us. The harsh times were gone, the difficult years had passed, and the pain and anguish had diminished. Now it was about bringing some joy into our lives, and what other joy can there be but the gift of life, one that is yours to give to this world?

  7

  60 Minutes

  Jayson and I are creatures of habit. We looked forward to Sunday nights watching 60 Minutes. We tried hard not to miss this current affairs show. It appealed to us because of its intelligent content. We loved the choice of interesting and topical stories, and the way characters were portrayed in their true light. The truth always comes out on 60 Minutes. Many times I sat on the edge of my sofa, enthralled by what I was seeing. One evening, Liz Hayes – my favourite reporter, who does the best stories on 60 Minutes – did a segment on Trevor Elwell and Peter West, a Melbourne same-sex couple in their forties, who had ventured to Mumbai, India, to pioneer one of the first surrogate babies.

  At an Indian hospital in central Mumbai, Trevor and Peter, who had been waiting all their lives to become fathers, paced expectantly (excuse the pun) outside the delivery room, awaiting the arrival of their twin girls Evelyn and Gaia from the surrogate mother they had never met. They were not allowed to attend the birth, but had been promised their babies would be handed to them the minute they were delivered. Minutes later, besotted and with tears of joy, they wer
e handed each of the newborns.

  I sat paralysed by emotion.

  “This is exactly it,” I said to Jayson. “This is how we can do it!”

  Finally, the missing piece of the puzzle had arrived. I always knew I wanted children but how to do it? Now I knew. Jayson and I watched intently. The story had so many implications and solutions for us but also here was a commercial television show discussing same-sex couples having babies. It was an acknowledgement of same-sex couples’ rights to be parents on Australian TV and that felt historic.

  They were a success story in our eyes, a triumphant effort from the couple. I imagined every gay couple in the country wanting babies was nothing less than proud of their achievement. The lengths they had undergone to have kids. No easy task travelling to and from India, later staying several months in the developing country after the birth.

  As I watched the show, thoughts were going through my head. It was an interesting discovery of surrogacy for me. The reproductive technology had been legal in India since 2002, and for $30,000 one could fulfil the dream of becoming parents. Up to that point, my knowledge of surrogacy had been minimal, and it wasn’t a communication point in my circle of friends. That day, we learned surrogacy in India was already a billion dollar industry. Trevor and Peter paved the way and by going public, they became the heroes of gay intended parents. I had found hope after watching the show.

  Laws in Australia were making domestic surrogacy impossible. New South Wales, the ACT and Victoria threatened imprisonment for the act. But this did not deter people from pursuing surrogacy options in India, despite the risk of running foul of Australian laws.

  “Why should surrogacy be a political decision, to prevent us from having children?” I asked Jayson.

  Having a child is a fundamental human right, and why should this be illegal to anyone who wishes to pursue this right? Perhaps it could be a matter of science versus God. Our laws are beyond my comprehension. For such a progressive nation, we are backward; still, as I write, there is a fight for the legal gay marriage vote to pass despite twenty other countries, including heavily Catholic Argentina, Spain and Portugal, having passed the bill for their nations. And with surrogacy, telling parents they are criminals if they pay a woman to carry their child with help from science.

  I recorded the segment and watched it multiple times, pausing at various intervals to write notes. I journalled the doctor’s name, hospital, costs, everything I thought vital and important, filling my notepad.

  I spent hours researching. At every discovery, I would run to Jayson in excitement.

  We breathed a sigh of relief; our dream was closer than we thought. But we knew it was going to be a long journey, a giant maze, and there was so much to consider. It is true to say it took several years before we became parents.

  Many times I have been asked why it took so long for us to actually become parents. Why didn’t we seize the opportunity to strike while the iron was hot? The truth is, although I was convinced from the outset that surrogacy was our only way to parenthood, Jayson was slightly apprehensive about the method and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it so soon after fighting the battle of his life. He was through with fighting. He knew that although 60 Minutes had portrayed what Trevor and Peter did as simple – as easy as sending your semen by DHL, as recounted by the Indian doctor on 60 Minutes – in reality it wouldn’t be that uncomplicated. There would be some kind of fight. He knew the world and our society weren’t ready yet to accept gay men becoming dads through surrogacy. When would they ever be? He is intelligent like this. He understood that for the media to come out so openly about surrogacy there would be some backlash somehow. He was right. Not long afterwards, just when I had managed to convince him that it was our only chance, India outlawed surrogacy for all but married heterosexuals.

  Because I was inspired by Trevor and Peter, I wanted to contact them, to tell them how thankful I was to them for opening a door. They were my heroes, and I had to speak to them.

  “Find Trevor and Peter,” I scribbled on a sticky note, efficiently placing it on my laptop in the office early the next day.

  I dived into further research on the matter of surrogacy. Each and every piece of information I meticulously googled. Six hours later, a collated pile of printed materials sat on my desk.

  After having digested so much information, I changed tack and began my quest to find the boys. At first it proved difficult; all I knew was that the couple lived somewhere in suburban Melbourne. Their email address wasn’t readily available, but I managed to find a blog called Ethical Surrogacy.

  Ethical Surrogacy is their blog dedicated to their family, charting the twins’ story from birth, with photos of them as a family and also plentiful information about surrogacy. I scoured the pages, looking for an email address. With sheer luck, I found one at the bottom of the page an info@something address. I put it aside in my drawer thinking, I will email them after I have done some further research on the matter. It was a year before I wrote to them.

  And in this year, not only did we gather a wealth of information; we made contact with an Indian doctor, a specialist in IVF. Jayson agreed to the India route, and the line of communication became active between the clinic and us. But just as we were about to sign on the dotted line, India closed its doors to gay couples and single parents becoming parents through surrogacy. It also required heterosexual couples to prove they had been married for at least two years before any surrogacy would be allowed in its country. It was a crushing blow, devastating to be ruled out once again because of our sexuality.

  It was the arrival of our two godchildren, the two most beautiful girls, born out of surrogacy in the USA, that kept us optimistic about our options, and stopped us from giving up our dream to start a family.

  Jayson and I had several conversations and worked out a Plan B. We had heard murmurs that intended parents were moving to Thailand after India’s crackdown, but the murmurs came amid fears after several cases of Thai surrogates keeping the baby after delivery. America was another option but we heard it would set us back around $250,000 in medical fees, or more in the case of premature twins. We wanted to become fathers by 2015, completing a two- to three-year plan. Several years of planning were already filed neatly in the black manila folder containing names of doctors and clinics specialising in surrogacy and everything one needed to know about reproduction technology. We had prepared, had read books on the subject, and knew what to expect and how to expedite the process. We kept our information up to date. Our dream wasn’t over. We just needed to work our way back a few steps and find a new path.

  Slightly more than a year later I, watched another segment on 60 Minutes, this time of Peter and Trevor at the birth of their third child, a boy called Reuben. The story swept my heart away again, seeing how harmoniously things were working out for the gay fathers with their three children. Reuben was also born in India. I searched for the sticky note with the email address I had scribbled eighteen months earlier and found it tucked away in the corner of my drawer. It was time to email them to gather some perspective, make contact and tell my heroes our prevailing frustrations.

  So on 8 March 2013, I wrote to Peter and Trevor.

  Dear Peter and Trevor,

  My partner Jayson and I have followed your remarkable story on 60 Minutes twice and we were both inspired greatly with your achievements as parents.

  Jayson and I have been together for fifteen years and since the early days of our relationship have been discussing parenthood. Your story on 60 Minutes a year ago inspired us to seek help in India. However we were crushed when the laws in India changed for gay parents seeking surrogacy. We are back to square one and currently looking at other options.

  We sincerely hope that you would consider giving us an insight or offer some advice or assistance with our quest to be parents. We have read your website, blogs and followed your story since the beginning. We have also searched and read hundreds of websites worldwide about surrogacy. W
e feel any advice or assistance you give us would be priceless.

  We hope you will consider responding to our email. It will mean the world to us both.

  We thank you sincerely for your consideration.

  Best Regards,

  Aaron Elias and Jayson Brunsdon

  Somehow when I pressed the send button, I had a familiar feeling inside, like I knew them already. I was drawn to them and I knew one day we would meet; I wanted very much to meet them. The time will come, I told myself, be patient. I was driven by the motto “All good things come to those who wait.” Three days later, I received a response from Trevor. It was like hitting the jackpot as I read his email. Trevor told us what a wonderful experience surrogacy and parenthood had been for him, and how happy he was to have got his story out to a broad audience. He told us there were options for us in Thailand to consider, and a conference was being held on the 6 and 7 April in Melbourne, where all the clinics and experts would be gathered. He offered to talk with us by phone, and ended on an encouraging note.

  Wow, I thought when reading Trevor’s inspiring email. I rang him the next week and when we spoke a sudden rush came through me. His was the voice of a kind-hearted man, the advice was powerful and was driven by a need to help others. Having been there twice himself, he knew how difficult and exhausting the process was and nothing could beat his advice and help. This would only fast-track our process.

  We spoke briefly about a few things and I enquired about the children, congratulating him and mentioning how adorable his kids were when we saw them on television. I had a special soft spot for his son Reuben, whose name is my mother’s maiden name. After a quick ten minutes of conversation, we arranged to meet.