Designer Baby

by Aaron Elias Brunsdon

  “Is this what it is all about?” I ask. He nods.

  “We have no problems paying the fine but we have been here for the last two hours with no relevant explanation till now. Your colleague has been very unkind and ungracious to us. We never experienced such hostility from Thais. You are good people.”

  “Don’t say too much, Aaron,” Trudy warns me from the other end of the receiver.

  “I am sorry for the inconvenience but it is our job to ensure your documentation is correct before we can let you go,” the officer says, while shaking his head at the behaviour of his colleague who now stands still and quiet like a church mouse.

  “I respect that but we have only done everything correct. I have the Australian Embassy on the phone who is speaking to your boss, and also in regards to the behaviour of the gentleman next to you who has embarrassed us.”

  “I am second in charge and your embassy just spoke to me. It is our duty to ensure that no one leaves Bangkok without proper legal papers. Let me refer you to this counter to pay your fines while we check the originals of your documents. Do you have the baby’s birth certificate and also the original letter from the district office? We must check if they are originals.”

  I take the papers out from the folder, worried about the time – now only thirty minutes before our plane leaves.

  “Sir, our plane leaves in half an hour and we must make the flight or else we will have no place to stay tonight. It is very difficult with a baby. The baby’s mother is on her way. She should be here in ten minutes, if not sooner. We spoke to her about half an hour ago and she has left her home to come to the airport.”

  “OK, the baby’s mother is on the way to the airport?”

  “Yes, she is. We are worried she won’t make it in time before our flight departs.”

  “OK, let me see what I can do, please pay the fines at that counter.” He points to the adjacent cashier’s area.

  At the counter, we realise the fines are only payable in cash, and neither of us have any Thai baht. I ask if they take credit cards and they reply no. It’s crunch time, one of us has to waste more time and run around the airport to find an ATM machine to draw some money to pay the fines – another setback really. Jayson decides to go and I stay with Roman. We want this sorted out quickly.

  I make small talk like “Bangkok is a beautiful city, you come from Bangkok?” to the mean officer, who starts to warm to me. His boss murmurs something in Thai as they look into the documentation, figuring out no reason whatsoever to detain us further. I am still on the phone to Trudy, who asks what is happening.

  “It looks like they are processing the passport. Jayson has gone to find money to pay the fines,” I say.

  “OK, shall I hang up and you can call me when you have gone through? It won’t be long now – you will make it on the plane, they know you’re coming.”

  “OK, I will call you the minute we get out of here.”

  I hang up the phone, smiling at the immigration officer. Jayson returns with a wad of baht, having run from one machine to another, unable to withdraw money until he found a money changer who agreed to change his money into Thai baht if he drew English pounds from the machine. Not wanting to waste any further time, Jayson agreed.

  The poor guy must have made a mad dash, because he was panting when he returned. After we pay the fines, the immigration officer writes something in Thai into Roman’s passport, filling a paragraph with the cursive Thai script. No idea what it says and I couldn’t care less anyway, because it is an emergency passport and it will be discarded when we get back.

  Our legs are gearing for the run to the tarmac. The high-ranking officer looks up at Nikki, the Qantas chaperone who has remained by our side throughout.

  “Where is the baby mother?” he asks her in Thai.

  Not again, I think. We have been through this already.

  “She is on the way,” Nikki beats me to it and responds.

  “Would you use his phone and tell her not to come? It won’t be necessary. The men have to catch a flight,” he says, changing his tune now.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when she explains his request. I ring Porn and hand the phone to the chaperone. She tells Porn not to come. Porn was close to the airport, about five minutes away, and says she will ask the taxi to turn around. When she puts the receiver down, I ring Kay to tell her not to come, but she is already parking at the airport.

  The immigration officer stamps all three passports, one at a time, and hands them to me.

  I hold the passport in my hand for several seconds before asking, “Does this mean we can go?”

  “Yes, you all can go,” he replies.

  “Thank you, thank you.” A relieved Jayson looks at his watch – fifteen minutes till the flight leaves. We lift Roman, still asleep in his capsule, and with our bags we bolt out of the area towards the plane. We run without looking back, worried the officer may change his mind or something else will crop up. We run with the chaperone escorting the three of us, and she is on her phone advising the plane’s customer service manager on duty that we will be there in minutes. It is the fastest we have ever run, flying past shops and passengers. We are charging through the airport towards our plane, baby in hand, while more passengers notice the mad Australians in their midst.

  We arrive at gate twenty-four but the waiting area is empty, except for a few airport crew members who have been expecting us. We have no time to say goodbye to Nikki as we are hurried to board the plane.

  As soon as we get on board, a lovely Qantas employee greets us; her name, “Michelle Hayes”, is prominently displayed on a badge. I remember her surname because Hayes is my mother-in-law’s maiden name. Michelle is the customer service manager, a petite blonde woman in her forties who looks at us with a big smile.

  “Mr Brunsdon, Mr Elias and baby Roman, welcome to QF twenty-four. We are so glad you made it and we weren’t leaving till you came.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief and quickly regroup. “Thank you, we almost didn’t.”

  “We have been expecting you. Several days ago they told us you would be on this flight, and we were briefed to take best care of you on the flight home.”

  “Home! A few minutes ago, it was something distant,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about it now, you’re in safe hands and soon you will be on home soil. Roman will get to see his real home tomorrow morning. Let us know if you need anything please, we are at your disposal.” Michelle disappears and I hear her voice on the intercom informing passengers about the safety procedures.

  Jayson is already in his seat. The pilot’s voice calls out “Cabin crew, prepare the plane for take-off.”

  I quickly sink into my comfortable 1A seat and put my seatbelt on. It feels like home already. I place Roman on my lap before fastening another seatbelt securely on him. I grip Jayson’s hand and turn to smile at him. He smiles back, looking somehow mystified, lost in thought.

  We made it. I grip his hand tighter, my heart still beating fast. I hold my son close to my chest. The plane takes off, ascending high on the route to Sydney. We are on our way home.

  Acknowledgements

  The experience of writing Designer Baby has been, without doubt, one of the most remarkable journeys of my life. Designer Baby was governed by the driving force, encouragement and merits of a number of individuals whom I am grateful for.

  Kay and Nina, Dr Pisit, Ittiporn and the people of Thailand, I will continue to respect and revere you all for the rest of my life. Your spirituality and the hospitality you endowed are meaningful and carry a special place in my life.

  Esther Mier, for spending long hours editing my earlier drafts. Raphael Meyer, for prompting me to literary excellence. Amber Petty, for encouraging me to write and publish my work.

  To those at Impact Press: Jane Curry, Eleanor Reader, Zoë Hale, and Jasmine Standfield, thank you for noticing my manuscript, seeing my work and believing in it. Thank you also to Simon and Schuster Australia for distributing my
book.

  Catherine McCredie, Designer Baby’s editor, thank you for your guidance and for making the process so memorable. Cheryl Collins, thank you for the book’s beautiful cover, layout and design. Thanks to MAC Cosmetics for the cover makeup. Carlotta Moye, for the family portraits on the cover. Ellie Sampson and the Jayson Brunsdon Team, for the assistance you gave me throughout.

  Thank you to my family Rebecca and Simon, Sally, Mum and Dad, Dorothy and Malcolm for allowing me to share intimate and personal family experiences.

  Thank you Jayson Brunsdon, my husband, for working with me as a team from start to finish, your articulate voice, and being the compass for my work. Thank you for living the dream with me.

  Roman Elias Brunsdon, my son, this book is for you. Thank you for being its inspiration.

  Thank you also to Sam Everingham, Trevor Elwell, Peter West, Trudy McGowan, and the many other courageous professionals who helped make our journey possible.

  All of you propelled me when I doubted myself. Thank you for being with me as this ship Designer Baby sails.

  Me with a cheeky smile on my first day of school at 7 years old, outside our flat in Singapore.

  Jayson at six months old in his pram at home in Frenchs Forest, Sydney.

  Celebrating the Sydney Olympics in 2000. This was our first year together. You can see how loved-up we are.

  Rebecca, Jayson and I in Bangkok at the All IVF Clinic, the first of many visits for fertility treatment. You can see the mixture of nerves and excitement on our faces.

  Kay, our Thai surrogate agent. She is an angel with a pink iPhone permanently in her hand.

  The first time I held my son Roman in my arms. Those moments were filled with so much joy as I cuddled him inside the birthing ward.

  Our first photo shoot as a family for The Sunday Telegraph in Bangkok, just two weeks after Roman’s birth. (Photo by Gerhard Joren, courtesy of The Sunday Telegraph).

  Baby Roman in Thailand, only three weeks old seen here in his favourite swaddle blanket.

  Roman with Daddy, happily at home in Sydney, April 2015.

  On the runway at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week for a sound and lighting check, May 2015. Roman kept staring at the Channel 9 camera crew – he loved the excitement of the impending fashion show.

  A beautiful family portrait by Hugh Stewart for Vogue in June 2015. Roman was naked but didn’t mind being on set with a crew looking on and took to it like a star.

  Roman loves dressing up. Pictured here in his knit crown and wearing a onesie Jayson designed for him. The happiest of little boys.

  The family getting together for a Christmas with Roman’s godmother, Kristy Hinze, in December 2015.

  Roman’s siblings Noah, Ariel and Aiden meeting him for the very first time.

  My parents, the pillars of my life. Here is Roman celebrating his Nana Matilda’s 70th birthday with Grandpa Abraham for a Bollywood-themed party in Singapore. He went as a little maharajah.

  Roman’s official portait at one year old, taken by our photographer friend Don Arnold, January 2016.

  Roman’s first modelling gig for Jayson Brunsdon children’s wear, April 2016. He took to modelling like a pro. (Photo by Richard Hedger).

  The loves of my life celebrating my birthday in Barcelona, August 2016.

  The Brunsdons in Formentera, Spain on summer holidays, August 2016.