Designer Baby

by Aaron Elias Brunsdon

  “No, I was a good child, hardly a problem. I stayed home a lot, liked to paint and draw.” Jayson motions with his fingers as if he is painting.

  “Do you want to feel my tummy, feel it, maybe talk to him?” She nods at us to touch her belly. When we touch her, it feels real. The movement of the baby makes us jump for joy. Previously I was unattached – I guess the isolation and worrying of taking him home prevailed – but now I feel the anxiety lift, like a weight freed from my body. I feel lighter, I can’t help but shed a tear.

  Porn notices my emotion. I see a change in her, she seems moved as well, and perhaps relieved – feeling she is doing the right thing. There are no words spoken for a while, just silence as our hands rest on her stomach. We understand the words she can’t say, or at least wants to say. It is a moment of respect for a triumphant woman. In a matter of days she will bring a child into this world and give it away. It takes a certain kind of woman to do this, a special woman.

  When a nurse calls for Porn, we go together to meet Dr Nitwat. He is a polite gentleman in his late thirties, with a kind face reminiscent of a ’70s Asian movie star. His jet black hair is groomed and he is slickly dressed in almost pure white. He handles the scanner, not the 3D one we were promised but instead a 4D scanner.

  Porn lifts her blouse to reveal her stomach. Her lower parts are wrapped in a sarong. He rubs gel on her stomach and the scanner emits 3D images on the screen. He refers to our child as “your baby” throughout the scan.

  Dr Nitwat has a fine English accent, like that of an Oxford or Cambridge scholar. He explains the images we see.

  “This is his spine, as you can see, he has his back to us. These are his legs, your son is very active,” Dr Nitwat says. “This is the heart, he has a heartbeat of one forty-one, normal, and now you can see his legs, they are pretty long legs, he will be tall. You may know this as his scrotum. He is a boy, and you probably know this already.”

  “He sure is,” we both respond.

  “Now this is his face, here you can see his cheekbones, his ears, he has his hands on his mouth, and this is his nose – he has a large nose.”

  We both look at each other, neither taking ownership of the large nose. Later we joked that it came from Rebecca’s genes, the large Jewish nose owing to her father.

  “He weighs about three kilograms at present but by next week, he should be around three point two kilograms, making him a healthy-sized baby ready for delivery.”

  Porn remains calm, smiling as she views the ultrasound. Sometimes Kay relays in Thai what Dr Nitwat says in English. Porn giggles at the large nose and confirms our baby is active. She says he does not like to sleep, especially at night when she feels him kicking like a footballer at a soccer game, soccer being the favourite sport of her two young sons.

  When Dr Nitwat finishes the scan, he looks at us and asks us if we have any questions.

  “Yes. Are you going to deliver our baby?” I ask.

  “Of course I am,” he replies proudly.

  “Great! We are in good hands then.” I pat him gently on the back. We like our new doctor.

  We leave the room, giving Porn privacy to change as we wait outside. When she finishes, she looks happy. Our baby is healthy because it is a job she has taken seriously. She has taken very good care of him.

  We are to meet her family and Kay this evening as we have planned to take them to Baan Khanitha, our favourite restaurant, for dinner. We are far away from our families this Christmas, here to start a family of our own, and this unity with them feels important to us. We kiss her on the cheeks to say goodbye. She does not kiss back, being a modest Thai woman who does not kiss other men.

  The smiles on our faces that day! It is a treasurable moment – a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see our child, our flesh and blood, floating in her uterus – seeing his hands on his mouth, the way he moves, listening to his heart beating away, this life inside her. We are moved, speechless for having created this little being.

  30

  Family Values

  That evening, at Baan Khanitha, we are met by Kay, her eleven-year-old daughter, Kay’s sister Nina, Nina’s husband and their ten-year-old daughter. Nina is instantly drawn to Jayson, somewhat starstruck, and before she formally introduces the rest of her family to us, she asks if Jayson would oblige her with a photo and autograph. She says she has never been an agent for a celebrity and wants them as mementos. Nina is funny, with a nice temperament and exuberant personality, and we instantly love her. She is glamorous and stylish, and tells us how overwhelmed she is to meet Jayson, whose fashion career she has followed for a long time now.

  “My best friend Sandy and my daughter Monica live in Perth. Monica studies fashion; she also loves Jayson’s style and she emails me magazine editorial clips about you,” she tells Jayson. Monica buys Jayson’s eponymous label and brings the clothes to Thailand as gifts for her friends.

  Nina’s husband, a nice enough bloke who hardly says a word, is a naval base officer in the Thai navy. They had tried for years to have children with no luck, even after years of IVF. Nina never gave up hope of becoming a mother. Her relationship suffered and she experienced daily torment from his family. Like her sister she is a devout Buddhist, and she prayed to Buddha daily for a child. If her prayers were answered, she promised Buddha to help others like her achieve their goals of becoming parents.

  One day her prayers are answered; Nina becomes pregnant and delivers a healthy baby girl. She kept her promise to Buddha and with help from Kay, they started IVF1, the new enterprise that gives childless couples from all over the world the opportunity to become parents. Kay and Nina are principals, working with doctors and medical teams to find the right surrogate. They are the mediators, the negotiators, for people unfamiliar with Thailand and its processes. The first thing Kay and Nina did was learn to speak English after realising there was a gap for English-speaking agents.

  Kay had completed a degree in political science at the Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok and though she was able to communicate minimally in English, she enrolled herself in an online course. The next step was to find a doctor, maybe from the university. From one of her faculty members, she heard of a new doctor, an embryologist specialising in reproductive technology. Pisit Tantiwattanakul was at the time working as head embryologist at a Bangkok hospital. He had recently finished an internship in one of the swanky hospitals in Australia, and was planning to open his own clinic in Bangkok for Thai nationals and overseas patients coming to Thailand for the purpose.

  It was perfect timing for Kay.

  An Israeli investor offered Pisit the chance he had been looking for to work as his own boss, in his own clinic. The entrepreneur was already involved in the IVF and surrogacy business, and he planned to move all his current clients to the new enterprise in Thailand. The new clinic would serve the ongoing and growing demand for IVF and surrogacy.

  So when Kay approached Dr Pisit, he already had clients filling his appointment books who Kay could offer her services to. She could also bring in new clients to the “start-up clinic with backing from an international investor”. This clinic opened in 2009.

  All IVF became an overnight success. Surrogate mothers came from all over Thailand, and it rapidly became the most progressive clinic in Thailand, if not in Asia. Dr Pisit was the king of artificial conception, nicknamed “Dr Miracle”, the one you went to for a sure pregnancy. American, Canadian and Israeli agents wanted to bring clients from their personal pool into the clinic.

  Kay and Nina’s business boomed, and when India closed its door to gay couples and single parents all the pending and new cases migrated to Thailand, landing in the office of the well-known doctor.

  “But things have changed now.” Kay and Nina say they no longer have a robust business. From dealing with twenty to thirty clients monthly, their business has dwindled down to three or four, mainly pre-existing surrogacy cases. They won’t be able to stay in business much longer.

  “What have
we done wrong?” Kay asks me repeatedly.

  “It’s not you what you have done wrong, it’s circumstantial,” I reply.

  All she ever wanted to do is help people; she became a surrogate agent so that people like us could have children.

  “Why is there a crime in this? How special, to have children. I am lucky, I can have them – but many can’t, so why can’t I help them?” she says, half teary.

  “When we first started IVF1, Buddha was very good to us; brought good luck and good fortune – blessing Nina and me with life’s happiness, a good family and children of our own. But lately Buddha has turned off the tap. He no longer wants to help us or the couples that need my help.”

  She tells us stories of past cases and of the lives of couples she helped change.

  “Yours will change soon. You don’t know this yet but children make you happy. They fill in the empty space in your heart because they want so much love,” she says.

  “So what are you going to do now?” I ask Kay, noticing her anxiety.

  “I don’t know yet, I explore all areas. Maybe Cambodia but it’s difficult, very difficult. Not many doctors there, hospitals not good so delivery must be here but it’s very hard for baby to leave the country,” she responds.

  “What about Nepal?” I ask, knowing couples, including my friends Richard and Paul, have moved there.

  “Same like Thailand – very soon, their country will close this too. The government will make this illegal for people so everyone has to move, keep moving until they find a new place.”

  “Are there any other options? Maybe think of different ways for couples to deliver. What about in their own hometown?” I suggest. “Your surrogate can come with you. Surely you will find couples to consider this? Of course, you would need to conduct this discreetly.”

  “Yes, we think about this. We have one couple from Korea taking their surrogate mother to Korea in two weeks to deliver. Problem is surrogate mother cannot travel after thirty-two weeks of pregnancy so intended parents must pay and let surrogate mother stay in the country for two months at least. This is very expensive for them and the visa is very hard to get. The surrogate has no job, no money so no country wants to give a visa to them.”

  “What about a loophole? Maybe disguise the fact she is a surrogate,” I say.

  “Yes, we tell the government she is not a surrogate, but girlfriend of the father. We don’t tell the government she is pregnant. The father will sponsor the surrogate as his girlfriend and once the surrogate is there, she stays with the couple until birth. Once birth is over, she goes home to Thailand. But problem is many couples do not want to be too close with the surrogate, they are frightened.”

  “Yes, I would be frightened myself,” I said, remembering I had thought of this option not so long ago when things were bad.

  In the midst of our conversation, Porn and her family arrive. Her protective husband is holding her hand and seeing to her every move. As she is now heavily pregnant, absolute care must be given to her. He seems so proud of her. When I refer to Porn’s husband, Kay corrects me, “He’s not her husband anymore, boyfriend only,” and she giggles away before saying the obvious, “Maybe after delivery, he will marry her again.”

  They are a loving family. They look happy holding hands. On his other arm, Porn’s partner carries their two-year-old son. Porn’s partner is tall, and wearing a football jersey with bold-coloured print that reads “New York Yankees”, his best jeans and his hair gelled and combed back into a slick hairstyle, like a Thai movie star. He seems like a gentleman – mellow, subdued. He speaks no English, only nodding his head and smiling humbly at me when introduced.

  I lean over during dinner and ask Kay if the family know what is going on. She confirms the entire family knows what Porn is doing, and is supportive of her. There is no stigma attached, nor does anyone feel awkward about the conception or her role as surrogate mother to us, a gay couple. The word “exploitation” does not even come near to their reasons.

  I greet Jonas and give him a gift, a big box of chocolates to share with his little brother. Porn looks content, rubbing her belly throughout dinner. In less than a week, she will give birth to our son and hand him over to us. How wonderful the whole concept is, and how brilliant that we can do this.

  After dinner, Porn takes photos with us. “Photos for your son,” she says in Thai.

  We want every process of this journey documented. One day he will want to know who his surrogate mother is, perhaps want to find her, and if so, he will have everything he needs to give him that opportunity. That evening reassures us in many ways. Watching Porn happy and content with her own wonderful family, I realise she doesn’t need mine. She is only helping us create our own. She also wanted her family to see for themselves what kind of people we are.

  “Porn has done the thing of a lifetime in her family’s eyes,” Kay tells me. “No other members of her family have set the record. Like Olympics, you know, she fulfils something in life, in history, and now she is a very well-respected woman in her family.”

  Come to think of it, our conception is brilliant, and after tonight it doesn’t feel weird anymore.

  31

  The Delivery

  The day dawns. Arriving at the hospital around 7.30am, we are earlier than expected. Kay texts she is running late, stuck in Bangkok traffic. The two-hour journey from her home sounds painfully boring. “But the surgery won’t start till 9am,” she texts again, promising to be there on time.

  The nurse at the counter who speaks hardly any English says she will get us when the time is closer. We pace up and down the waiting room on level three like stereotypical fathers-to-be, taking pictures of ourselves. Jayson has been to the bathroom four times since we arrived.

  At 8.15am, the lift door opens and Porn is wheeled out on a stretcher. We walk towards her and greet her. She seems nervous and uninterested in talking much. She is dressed in a white gown, looking like she is about to pop. We hold her hands to wish her good luck.

  Being nervous, I text Kay to hurry her and she replies almost instantly that she spoke to the hospital and told them one of us would be going into the operating room. Dr Nitwat is also running late because he went into an emergency operation this morning at an adjacent hospital. They anticipate an hour’s delay or more.

  At 9.30am, Kay arrives. She senses how nervous we are and her calmness somewhat relaxes us. We chat for a while and tell her we haven’t slept.

  “The excitement is overwhelming.”

  At 10am, there is still no news so Kay checks with the nurse who says Dr Nitwat is attending to Porn. Five minutes later, the chief nurse comes out and asks Kay to prep me. I am so nervous, overexcited to meet my son in just a few minutes. I am numb with happiness. I have to wash my hands and slip into an oversized blue set of scrubs; my mouth is masked, my shoes are covered in protective plastic stuff and my head and hair are wrapped in a plastic shower cap. Kay and Jayson smile in awed incredulity at my new outfit.

  “Go see our son,” Jayson says, teary and excited at the same time.

  “I wish you were coming in with me,” I say.

  The nurse leads me into the operating room. Silently I place my iPhone on video mode, even after being warned earlier to refrain from taking videos. Photos are fine but the hospital, for privacy reasons, does not permit videos. However, I couldn’t miss the opportunity; I wanted Jayson there but since only one of us is allowed to enter, he shouldn’t be missing any of it.

  I confidently hold the camera up while following the nurse’s every step, first through a tall, narrow door that feels like you are entering into a space odyssey. My first peep of the operating room is through two circular windows in the door. I tremble slightly as she opens the door to the operating room, and as it flings open it reveals a sea of scrubs. I hear the wailing of a baby, his loud screams echoing as vibrations inside me. He wriggles on an aluminium bed, his body smeared with blood and slimy white mucus. He wails louder, and the nurses wrap him i
n a green hospital blanket. I turn around to glance at Porn, who is unconscious. Dr Nitwat and others work on her – stitching her up, I think, but I can’t see because I am blind with inexpressible happiness. I am blown away to a different realm.

  “Hello, darling, Daddy is here…Daddy is here,” I say before I start to cry.

  I am so still – I can’t move. It is like I’ve been struck by an angel. This baby is crying; my baby, and my son. I sense he is frightened and wants to be held, comforted.

  “He’s OK, normal, healthy baby.” I hear the calm voice of a female doctor, who seconds ago I didn’t know existed.

  “Don’t worry; I think you must sit down before we take photos,” she adds.

  The moment is unforgettable. I want to hold him to let him know I am here and that he is not alone. I will never be far from him. I promise to protect, love and guide him, as long as I live.

  The nurse brings him to me, and when I hold him he settles a little and then starts screaming again. The nurse takes pictures of us. I beam, holding him. My emotions are wild, trembling. I can’t believe he is here, in my arms, me holding him. The feeling is indescribable.

  “Papa wants to meet you. He is outside, my darling.” I know he won’t understand me but it doesn’t matter because I want him to hear my voice.

  The woman with the calming voice, the English-speaking one who asked me to sit a minute ago, is a paediatrician, I later learn. She asks me nicely to wait outside while the doctor attends to Porn and she will bring the baby to the nursery. I agree and walk out of the operating theatre. Still overwhelmed, I see Jayson and Kay from a distance. I can’t talk but I notice our son behind me, in an incubator, on his way to the nursery with a nurse. Jayson catches him on the way, and takes pictures. He is teary and just before they move him away from us we hug each other, holding each other tight, softly crying tears of joy before we walk with them to the nursery.

  We can hardly concentrate on what the nurse is saying. Our attention is fixed on where he now lies in a plastic cot behind the window. We are mesmerised, staring at him, while Kay repeats the nurse’s orders.