Designer Baby

by Aaron Elias Brunsdon

  8

  Surrogacy Saviours

  Sometime in mid-July 2013, on a cold winter’s day, I met Trevor Elwell at a cafe in Melbourne. Jayson and I were in Melbourne on business and had thought to seize the opportunity.

  It was 10am when our cab pulled up outside the busy Flinders Lane cafe, our designated meeting place.

  While Jayson and I scuffled with our luggage on the footpath, Trevor saw us from inside and came out to greet us. We exchanged salutations and shook hands. He had such warmth and I at once felt drawn to his energy. He was calm, soft-spoken and exuded intelligence. He is a big man, a gentle teddy bear you want to cuddle. I felt a sense of familiarity once again, instantly liking this kind person, so kind that he was forfeiting his lunchtime to meet us on this busy work day. I marvelled at his generosity.

  After the greetings, he told us he had invited a friend, Sam Everingham, to join us at the meeting. “He is a specialist in surrogacy, having set up the non-profit ‘Surrogacy Australia’. His partner and he became fathers to twin girls born in India two years ago.”

  Trevor thought Sam’s expertise would be welcome to us both, especially if we considered taking the Thailand route, a route many gay couples were opting for after India became unviable. Trevor and Sam were working at a surrogacy conference to be held in Melbourne the following month. I was happy to meet Sam, a person we continue to have a close relationship with. He was instrumental in our journey.

  In his mid-forties, Sam is handsome, six feet four inches tall, noble looking, with an overpowering professional demeanour. I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by him.

  Sam is a tireless campaigner for surrogacy. He provides advice and assistance for Australians seeking surrogacy in Thailand and other parts of Asia. He is articulate and mild-mannered, a gentleman, and was genuinely interested in helping us fulfil our dream.

  We told him about us, our history, our relationship, our work, the dream to become parents, and where we were up to at that point. We also told him that the purpose of that day’s meeting with Trevor was to gain some perspective, an understanding of the process and to single out possible countries.

  “Could it be Thailand, perhaps the US or Mexico?” I said, open to the options.

  We started this journey with India, only to have it end in disappointment. We needed to choose somewhere else but had limited information. We had heard that Thailand was the next stop for intended parents but we were cautious because we had also heard of some underhand activities and we were uncertain about the legitimacies of engaging the specialised medical service there.

  Sam discussed the various options with us. He asked questions about whether we had thought about whose egg and sperm we were using and he also discussed timelines with us. He told us about Bangkok’s facilities and the infrastructure surrounding the various clinics available. He reassured us, saying he was confident that Thailand is a viable destination for surrogacy. Its services and medical practices are progressive and use innovative, leading edge technology.

  We listened carefully, a feeling of trepidation and excitement building inside me, knowing that my dream could become a reality in a neighbouring country like Thailand. Though India was the pioneer in the technology, Thailand was fast taking over.

  Sam told us he was currently advising various clients about their birth missions. His consultancy practice provides vital advice and information, including a list of reliable hospitals, comparisons between leading clinics and recommendations for a good local Thai agent to do the groundwork. Sam could also provide advice on the fee structure, the financial management and average costs we would be expected to pay in Thailand. He could offer advice on legal considerations and issues to be aware of in regards to citizenship and new passport requirements. Sam seemed to know all the answers and there was not a question he was uncertain about in relation to Thailand as the potential destination.

  We asked Sam about egg donor programs and the surrogates available at the clinics. Sam told us the clinic he would recommend has its own egg-donor program. Thai or Caucasian egg donors could be utilised. There were other potential donors too, from other countries, and it wouldn’t be difficult to select from a database of Australian or American donors.

  After the meeting at the cafe, we bade farewell to Trevor, whom we had little time to speak to, given all the information we were gleaning from Sam. I was appreciative of Trevor, who was not only helpful but intervened at various stages to give his own personal opinion. Sam gave us his business card and suggested we call his office to make an appointment in the next few weeks.

  When we met at his office in Sydney, Sam explained further about embryo transfer options and consequences. We arranged another meeting to help us start the ball rolling in earnest.

  We had a lot to do if we wanted to be dads by 2015.

  9

  Bio Mum

  From my obsessive research into the matter of surrogacy, I learned that the arrangement requires a strong partnership, and trust has to exist with several people vital to our child’s conception and birth. In our mix, there were both intended parents (two men) – one of whom, Jayson, we chose as the biological father, the other, myself, as the second parent – the instrumental egg donor, whose identity remained mysterious and, finally, the Thai surrogate mother.

  Jayson and I discussed the prospective surrogate mother, whom we had decided to select from the Bangkok clinic’s database of Thai women. Carrying a baby to term without having any biological link to the child was a coveted role, which professional women eagerly prepared for. The vital arrangement involves a gestational pregnancy. Eggs are first fertilised in a test tube at the clinic’s laboratory and then implanted in her womb to be gestated for thirty-eight weeks. She relinquishes all rights to the child after birth. Her role is that of an incubator or, in surrogacy slang, we call her “the oven” that gestates the baby, restricted as we are by our gender to do this ourselves.

  As for the egg donor, she is also known as the baby’s biological mother. Without her, there is no viable equation. I see her as a friend or family member who will agree to give us her eggs for procreation. We were unsure this kindred spirit existed in our world, so down the donor bank path we pedalled for a while. We learned it can cost you an arm and a leg, anywhere between $15,000 and $100,000 for a set of viable eggs. Most IVF clinics offer eggs as part of the package, allowing you to scan through their donor profiles, which contain important facts such as family background, qualifications and physical traits to assist with the selection process.

  In Australian clinics, a photo of the subject when young accompanies the dossier. Some progressive clinics also offer more details, like apparent genetic disorders or hereditary illnesses in the family history, which your child could easily inherit. Nowadays some clinics allow you to meet the donor, especially if you are paying top dollar for the assets. With the advancement of internet technology, you can find a vast network of websites and blogs with eager donors offering eggs. Not to pursue any form of relationship with the child or the intended parents is common practice for egg donors, but some donors opt to have their child to know them, and to play some role in the child’s later life. Regardless, when a child born from a donor egg reaches the age of eighteen they are entitled to know everything and confidentiality becomes non-existent. Australia has strict rules about this. I have heard ample stories about children finding their biological parents which made my hair stand on end. Like the one about cousin Joshua’s brood of four locating him years later, an unexpected outcome when he donated sperm for $100, money the then-16-year-old needed for holidays.

  Jayson and I discussed exploring with my sister Florence the possibility of being our egg donor, with Jayson as the sperm donor and our baby’s biological father. This was the ideal scenario to link us genetically to our child. Florence was forty years old, married and a mother of four teenagers. She had lived in Australia for over twenty years. In our eyes, she was the perfect candidate. However, I sensed it would be a diff
icult conversation to have with her.

  One afternoon I sat with her and told her of our desire to become parents and what it would take to get there. I spoke about remembering the joy of the birth of her four children, and how “easy” it is for heterosexual couples. Florence was well aware that Jayson and I had been together for fifteen years and that having a baby would complete the picture for us.

  “I don’t want to grow old alone and not have a family,” I said. “I want someone to carry our legacy. And I want my child to be part of our family, our genetic composition, so I don’t feel left out in any way.” I asked her if she would be willing to supply the egg.

  At first she was shocked as, prior to this conversation, we had never discussed us becoming fathers. The bold request caught her off guard.

  “I will think about it and talk to my husband as it is not an easy decision to make. There are many factors involved, including thinking of my children and what this could mean for them.”

  In her defence, I should have stopped to think about her possible reaction before approaching her. I should have considered that we have different outlooks on life. Asking her to be an egg donor was probably too adventurous of me. Florence is moderately religious and got married when she was eighteen. It took her years to accept that I was gay and to accept Jayson into the family. We had struggled to maintain a close relationship and I felt very much shut off from her life for many years. This is one of my personal regrets in life because the truth is I dearly love my sister. Naively, I thought that, having four kids herself, she would understand how much this would mean to me and Jayson. Building the courage to ask her as my sister had been hard. When she left that afternoon, I did not hold hopes and felt quite despondent.

  Florence rang me two days later and as soon as she spoke, I knew she would not do it. She began by cautiously telling me how difficult it would be for two men to look after a child, and that the child would be bullied at school. She protested further that she would not be able to separate her emotional attachment to our child and that if it should transpire that we have a baby, she would rather be an “aunt” to the child than its biological mother. During the hour-long conversation, she cited numerous difficult struggles from her own personal experiences of raising children.

  For various completely understandable reasons, Florence was unable to accede to our request. I understood and respected her choice not to be the egg donor but it did hurt me a bit. To be honest, I was crushed.

  With my sister out of the equation, we decided to find a reputable egg bank, perhaps an American egg. The American egg donors were the best, I was told: they were educated, English speaking and the choice was varied. We started the ball rolling, going through several websites to locate suitable egg donor banks. I joked several times about buying eggs from a Brazilian, the exceptionally beautiful breed of human beings – like Gisele Bündchen, the famous supermodel with long limbs and striking features. We would need to study hundreds of profiles for a suitable egg, basing our selection on a close and similar physical match to myself, now that we had made the decision to use Jayson’s sperm.

  The main reason we were relying on physical characteristics as a selection criterion was because of a close personal study of our neighbours, a gay female couple, Ren and Waded and their two-year-old daughter Gracie. I witnessed Gracie grow and saw how easily she adapted to both her mothers. I grew an attachment to little Gracie, adoring her, perhaps the paternal instinct expressing itself, showering her with gifts and toys each time I visited them. It was a wonderful experience sharing the joy of her family, and we became close friends. They were literally a walking encyclopaedia, sharing personal experiences with me about Gracie, priceless information, and I was truly grateful to them. They became our role model, our inspiration, and I watched Gracie grow and saw her mothers’ devotion to her. I was so happy for them and yet I felt the sting of childlessness.

  In the early days when we first met, I could never figure out who Gracie’s biological mum was. Her resemblance to Waded was very strong so I assumed it was Waded, only to be proven wrong when they told me Ren was actually the biological mother, the one who conceived Gracie and carried her to term. They told me they had meticulously scanned sperm donors from various sperm banks, searching for the one who bore the most resemblance to Waded. Luckily their needs were met after they found one with the same ethnicity and bearing an uncanny resemblance to Waded. Donor sperm 81927 was neatly tucked away in an American clinic for the intended mothers’ purchase. When the trio are together, it’s easy to conclude that Waded and not Ren is the genetic mother, when it’s the other way around. This inspired us greatly! We decided to copy the same process, setting out to look for an egg donor that fitted neatly into our jigsaw puzzle.

  What was also intriguing was that Gracie knew about her donor dad. Her Mama and Mummy made no secret about her conception. Right at the outset, they told Gracie stories about her biological dad and explained where she came from in simple language which Gracie could understand, equipping her with more information progressively as she grew older. One day when I was visiting, Gracie, only four at the time, started telling me stories about her bio dad. “He is American,” she said. Although she had not met him, she knew where he came from, and even knew his name. She proudly told me that they have the same eye colour and that he has other donor children. Gracie had recently met them, and called them her brothers and sisters.

  The time with Gracie taught me the important value in acknowledging the bio person from the outset. No avoidance, just the simple beautiful truth. Not keeping any secrets from our child, building the foundation early so there are no confusions or hidden truths later. Why lie about something for no reason? The truth is the truth, why not choose to explain it as it is, and equip your child with enough information so when they grow up they will have the answers? I imagined my child in the schoolyard when other innocent children mocked her for not having a mother. I envisioned her replying, “No that’s not true, I do have a mother,” and having the ability to answer and defend herself from any mockery because she knows of her donor mum’s existence. “It’s just that my mother does not live with me and my daddies.” I didn’t intend keeping my child ignorant of her origins. My duty as a parent was to educate her with important facts concerning her wellbeing.

  Having decided to shop for eggs, we started with the internet. There was no better place to look. Weeks went by and as our appointment with Sam Everingham drew closer, I struggled to find a suitable donor. I don’t know what I was expecting at that time. I was inundated with offers and couldn’t make an impartial decision on which way to go. Every day I scanned through websites of clinics in the USA, India and Thailand, looking for eggs. I researched each clinic, its processes, regulations and the eggs they stored in the banks, flabbergasted by the whole intricate business. I found blogs with egg donors selling their eggs online at prices you wouldn’t believe — ads from all over the world, offerings from geniuses, accomplished academics and even from donors willing to do it for a holiday. Most people did it for the money, a quick way to get fast cash without much effort involved, but a few were simply good Samaritans, wanting to be part of something bigger by giving life to this world, and helping someone who couldn’t do it on their own.

  The search process was frustrating and exhausting, consuming me. Jayson got exasperated a few times, feeling like I was neglecting him, so immersed I was in this research. I was running out of time, having wanted to at least secure our egg donor prior to meeting Sam, but alas, no luck.

  It all changed one night, three days before we were to meet Sam. I was invited over to my cousin Rebecca’s house for a customary Shabbat dinner, held every Friday night. Rebecca is my cousin from my paternal side. When I first came to Australia, I lived with Rebecca and her family for several years while working in their family-run business of “two dollar” discount stores. They were good to me. Her parents looked after me like their own, giving me a roof over my head and a flexible j
ob so I could supplement my income and pay the exorbitant school fees for the part-time business courses I did after work. If it had not been for them, I would have struggled to finish my education. Rebecca and her brother Jeremiah I consider as my other siblings and we are very close. Rebecca was thirty-five years old at the time and has similar features to me, as well as the same Middle Eastern olive complexion, gifted at birth from our strong gene pool. Over the years whenever we went out, people mistook us for siblings. Her parents were born in my birth country Singapore, and we shared similar traditions, beliefs and customs. Rebecca is the soul of generosity, a marvellous woman with a heart of gold. I consider her my twin separated at birth; we are two peas in a pod.

  In the early stages, Jayson and I chose not to share our baby plan, especially to our family, as we did not want to be swayed by their perceptions or judgements. Therefore I had held back this big piece of news from Rebecca, despite always keeping her informed on even the most trivial daily events of my life. One of the other reasons I had chosen not to say anything to her was because Rebecca was going through a divorce, spending time at the lawyer’s office, and it had caused a major strain in her life. Rebecca married her childhood sweetheart at a young age, and all she had ever wanted to do was become a mother. She had her first son, Noah, when she was twenty-four, Ariel, her daughter, at twenty-six and her youngest, Aidan, a few years later. During the divorce, she and her three kids had to move out of her own home to live with her parents in Bondi. It was a tough time for her, and she was on the brink of tears every time we met in those tough years. For those reasons, I had chosen not to say anything earlier, but now since we were closer to our decision about having a baby, the time was ripe to tell her.

  That night at Shabbat dinner, a few months after the divorce settlement had taken place, I broke the news. First I complimented Rebecca on the way she handled her kids, telling her what a great mother she was; indeed a true revelation – not only was she a brilliant mother, but also a selfless parent who put her children first before anything else in this world. I had seen the way she spoke calmly to them and admired her for it. Her kids were well adjusted and grounded considering the dysfunctional few years they had been through with their parents’ divorce. It was a result of her parenting skills, I reasoned.