Dads: A gay couple's surrogacy journey in India (5 page)

Who cares about the feelings of two gay guys? I mean, after all, they should be glad they get to marry. They could be in Zimbabwe or Russia.

In the meantime, we age, we grow older, the desire to be a parent becomes stronger and when we lost the boy, we realized that we would never be chosen as foster parents. Society just isn't ready for this sort of thing, but we want kids. We want to pass on our legacy, just like everybody else, and contribute to the evangelical dream of procreation. I'm being ironic…

So here we are, Friday night, a few weeks into the process of becoming parents by our own seed. It's funny really. I spoke to neighbors on the boat about it and we all had a chuckle of the highs and lows this process entails. I was so happy on Tuesday night when the swimmers test came in positive (good in this case), I sent away 56 million happy campers/ml (!) with my load… Seems like pretty good odds to me! :) After all, only ONE needs to make it.

The next day, the blood results came in and I was in surrogate heaven. All was well. Let's send in the documents and get this started, but alas, bureaucracy (as I wrote yesterday).

Thing is, the fear of not being successful, all this background and upbringing, all the failures, all the preconceptions are constantly rumbling in the background, making it difficult to think straight. So I end up feeling my way through the day and that IS my roller-coaster.

When the clinic sends e-mails asking for “income statements”, I understand both words, but have no real clue how to answer, as we don't have that here. When they talk about SS couples not being recognized by the Indian government, I don't read “gay couples” but “Sturm Staffel” and I wonder what the nazis have to do with all this. There are heaps of jargon and funny words and abbreviations unfamiliar from the world of in vitro fertilization (IVF), medicine and surrogacy.

And even an inconspicuous phrase like “submit family photos” throws me on a loop. What pictures? I mean, my family is me and Alex, why don't they just say, a photo of you and Alex? They must mean something else… So I think of my 'idea' of the Indian family and off I go on a tangent of huge clusters of people. Four or five generations living under one roof, the youngest being popped in one end of the house and the oldest being burned on the roof (ironic again)… Then comes the answer. No, no, just photos of what 'you' consider your family, could be friends, relatives, neighbors, even cats.

How very soothing, right? Because my heart goes boom and I can start sending my...cats. LOL! Seriously, I felt a lot better when I realized I didn't have to visit my mother-in-law, of whom we have no photo because we haven't spoken to her in five years…

The doctors, nurses and staff at SurrogacyIndia are absolute darlings, particularly Dr. Shyja Gangadharan, who's shown so much patience with me these past two days. They meet my craziest requests with equanimity and respect. When I told them that one of our wishes was to have a tall mother, they questioned me, saying that even small people could be successful, citing themselves as examples. And yes, that is quite possible but wasn't my point.

I mean, what do you look for in an egg donor (quizzically abbreviated “ED”)? Beauty? A PhD? What are good genes? What is it you don't want? Moles? Alex and I really don't place much emphasis on genetics, because they are merely the board on which the game is played. But how you play your game is entirely up to you, and some people can play highly successfully although their board is crooked, broken or even missing pieces. That's not the point. But, unfortunately, research shows that taller people are more financially successful in life (on average, which the above counter example doesn't disprove) and hence we arrived to that conclusion. We want a tall mom. Just because we hope to give our child a statistically better shot at life, and quite frankly, because we don't know what else to ask for.

Anyway, let me finish off by saying that I booked my flight to India today. I've applied for my visa today and your dad and I have been given access to the donor registry so we can pick your mom this weekend. So far, five feet is the tallest I've seen after looking at two profiles. My hopes of a tall mom are vanishing rapidly, and maybe the above comment from the agency was the Indian way of saying “don't get your hopes up on that one.” If it was, hint well taken.

I am in good spirits today. Alex is getting his blood work done on Monday with a promised return within a week, so we should be all set by then. I'm sure there will be other “incidents” along the way and I also know (the agency is VERY adamant about pointing it out) that they don't guarantee a child. This entire process isn't a promise but a chance, one for which I am very grateful.

And, yes, my little one, I do believe that we will be successful and I can't wait for the day when I hold you in my arms!

This was a most interesting weekend, in part because of the Eurovision Song Contest that was held last night in Baku, but also because Alex and I spent quite some time deciding on who we wanted to become the egg donor to our child.

Let's the get the first part out of our way first. Loreen totally rocked last night. This beautiful women with her vibrating voice really did make us proud, and had it not been for Italy (So dove siete!), she would've gotten points from every participating country. Interestingly, the Italians had some Swedish help to write their song which wasn't so bad. I quite liked it.

The other big win this weekend revolved around an egg. Now nothing is as easy as it sounds, but amazingly, Alex and I settled relatively quickly on the same woman.

If you are faced to make a choice about the characteristics of the looks of your children based on a photo and a few lines of text about who these women are, what they do, if they have children, donated their eggs previously, their family and their health history, you end up going with visual clues.

Women who are more “presentable” (for lack of a better word), who look better (which is of course highly individualistic) are the ones you'll go for. That was a first clue. We then looked at other criteria such as length and basic personality traits (such as they were available).

At 1,85 m, I'm relatively tall. Alex is just below Swedish average. Most Indian women are relatively short. We looked at things like eye color and how our eye colors would end up blending to our children's eye colors. Stanford even has a test that allows you to find out, although I wouldn't bet my money on it.

If the egg donor (ED) is an introvert, how likely will the children be introverts? Nature or nurture? It's the age old debate, but when you are faced with trying to draw a line in the sand about which characteristics are nature and which are nurture, at least for Alex and I, it boils down to things like looks, height, hair & eye color. Basically, we made the decision based purely on physical characteristics.

I'm not sure if the fact that the ED may have a Bachelor's degree or a PhD matters or that others do not. Those who do not may simply not have had the opportunity to study…

In any case, we have chosen a donor.

If you had hoped for a photo of the ED, I'm sorry to disappoint you. As I said before, according to Indian law, she is completely protected and anonymous.

Our next step is to finalize the blood tests for Alex (he's got a date with the clinic tomorrow), and to choose the surrogate. In all honesty, I'm even more at a loss when it comes to that part. What attributes are critical for a surrogate? Good health, strong back and broad hips for easy birth? I don't know, but I hope the clinic in Mumbai will help us with that part…

For now, I leave you and bid you a fond evening and a good start to a brand new week!

Yesterday, the lawyers got involved, and as is with lawyers, they have a tendency to take the fun out of everything. We were granted “access” to a great number of forms which need to be downloaded, printed, filled in, scanned, e-mailed back and prepared for delivery when traveling to India.

The first form shocked me. It’s a “nominee” form, which has to be filled in by two people. It is basically like a “godparent” agreement, in case Alex and I can't take delivery (what a terrible word) of the baby because of an accident, death, or what have you.

From the agency's perspective, this is extremely important. Why would they create life, go through all the motions and then get stuck with it? But in all honesty, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Vulnerable as we are in this process, putting our dreams in the hands of other people (again) is tough. What if they refuse to sign? After all, this is a significant undertaking, IF…

Since I'll be the 'first' parent, we hope that Alex may be one of the nominees, but I have yet to receive word back from Mumbai on this.

Then there are forms about freezing my sperm, the admission form to the hospital, a 15 page legal agreement between us and the agency and it goes on and on and on from there…

Then, of course, there is the looming decision about the surrogate mother. I've had a look at that “catalogue” (we don't have to make the decision yet and the women available during our timeline may vary) and it is full of acronyms. IP, SI, ED, SD, SM are the easy ones. Intended parents (that would be Alex and I), Surrogacy India - our agency, Egg donor, Sperm donor and Surrogate mother. But then there are a great many other acronyms that I look at and understand zilch (and I have yet to find a definition or an explanation). But, you learn as you go along, and so far, so good. Things seem on track.

Even snafus, such as the Indian embassy not being happy with the photo I provided, sending back my visa application, encouraging me to get professional ones done, followed by re-sending the application to Stockholm. Or the fact that I'll need 4 (!) additional photographs for the agency, forcing me to call back my photographer to order an extra set (as I had only three pic left). I think I've arrived at this stage of phlegmatic, for lack of a better word. I just take orders, fill in forms, sign, scan & e-mail, no questions asked. LOL It just makes my emotional life so much easier.

As is with these 'legal' things, sometimes one thing requires another and until “another” (whatever that may be) isn't taken care of, things are complicated. But, alas, phlegmatic Hans doesn't care. He just fills in form after form, scans and e-mails! :) mi vida…

I celebrated my birthday yesterday. A day of joy with literally hundreds of congratulations from people all over the world through phone calls, text messages, etc. I am truly blessed to live among people who care so much about me.

Last night, enjoying a fabulous dinner with my husband, we talked about recent events, as people do. When we got to talking about the boy we lost, the pain and hurt all bubbled up again, particularly in conjunction with the recent LGBT-festival that was concluded the other day in a big parade.

Thing is, in Sweden, biological parents have a lot of clout. That's perhaps not strange, I guess they have it everywhere, but here it goes beyond caring and loving parents. Here, even criminals and abusive parents keep their strong hold over their children, no matter what (literally). All under the axiom that “biological parents are best for their children!” Swedish social workers do any-, every- and nothing to make sure that parents are reunited with their children, even if it means that kids are beaten, sexually abused or even killed. Anything can happen under this axiom. But, alas, the UN Children's convention must be followed and it says to work towards what's best for the children. And the BIOLOGICAL parents are obviously always best… At least that's the Swedish interpretation. If only I knew where they got their evidence from… Particularly given all the horror stories we read about weekly in the papers.

My take on this is different: <3 is best for children! It doesn't really matter where it comes from, as long as it's there and as long as the adults provide stability. In my book, parents who sexually or physically abuse a child have no right to be guardians of a young life.

We got screwed by the social workers of this city, royally. We wasted TWO years of our lives on something they knew we wouldn't get. They played with our emotions, our lives. To make matters worse, they broke Swedish law by discriminating against us. Because once a child is removed from its biological parents, it must be placed in foster care. Yet, for some reason, the social workers claimed the parents had some kind of veto right, which is BS. They have to be able to work with the foster home, but clearly, in the end, they cannot be given the right to choose which home the children are placed in. If I'd have my children removed from me, I would also fight it every step of the way. The job of a social worker is to get the parents to cooperate. And, yes, that may be a big task, but not impossible. Instead, they took the easy road, agreeing with the parents and moving on, trampling all over us where we stood.

Yet it's okay to refuse the “gays.” That's okay. I wonder how the social workers would have reacted it the couple had been Jewish? Or black? Or gypsies? I'm sure (unless they are as racist and anti-Semitic as they are homophobic) their faces would've turned all shapes of purple and their lips would've curled and they would've told the parents that their views were unacceptable. But, alas, we're only gay. We didn't molest that boy. We didn't treat him so badly that he's years behind his natural development. We didn't deprive him of love & care. No. We did nothing but offer our home and our hearts to give him a second chance at happiness and a good life.