A Carrier's Perspective (possible tissue alert)

This is a hard one for me to write. Because even with my veil of anonymity, it reveals something so personal and secretive, that few people in my life actually know about it. Many of my closest friends do not know about it and it was even hard to admit to my husband, but I realized recently how very relevant it is to my journey. And how much it will make me cry to write about it. 

Some recent stories I arrived at via Stirrup Queens showed me the importance of sharing my story. I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes, for I don't plan on check editing like I normally do for long posts. Feel free to comment, but if you ever meet me in person let's agree not to bring it  up - ok? Alright, here it goes:

When I was barely 16, I gave up a child for adoption. 

There. I said it. Or at least wrote it. 

Surrogacy is not an easy option for me. Wait, I need to rephrase that because surrogacy and infertility are not easy options for ANYONE on any side of the fence, as blog after blog can attest. Let me try again... Like many cases in infertility land, our path to use surrogacy was an extremely difficult one.

For you see, I know the pain of carrying a child in your womb for 9 months and then giving it to someone else. I can pretend that my pain was "more" because the child was genetically linked, but I really have no way of knowing that. The best I can hope for is that the verbal evidence I am given from those "in the know" is what my surrogate will experience: that it's not easy, especially that day in the delivery room, but that the surrogate knows from the beginning that the child is not hers. Knowing that her GIFT will enable her to help her own children - something HUGE that I think most articles on the subject seem to miss, but mothers pick up on right away - helps to ease the worry. At least a little. 

My main nurse in Anand is twice a surrogate. She is always happy with a smile and her recent deliveries occurred when she was about 39 and 41, the last one being only a year earlier. She has worked at the clinic for approximately 9 years. She's not the only nurse that is a former surrogate and I dare say that they would certainly have inside information on what the women go through before making those decisinos for themselves. 

The life and emotional well-being of my nurse is a strong contrast of how my life was a year after giving up my child for adoption. Maybe emotionally she's an exception, but I don't think so. Speaking and reviewing empirical information on former surrogates lets me see how their lives are changed for the better, but I still don't fool myself into believing that the initial period after births are easy-breezy for them.¹

When I was pregnant and 15, I listened to people tell me that, "if I loved my baby, I would give it up for adoption." No one told me how the pain would rip me apart. The pain didn't even fully settle till months after, when it was far too late by legal standards to do anything about it, (even though I did try). Having been ostracized by any "good girls", combined with an already deep ability have depression (even before my pregnancy), it's no surprise that I continued making bad choices for awhile. I have no doubt that post-partum equally contributed it's ugly head during those times. 

And then I stopped making bad choices, (at least for awhile). At 19 I was engaged to a man 5 years my senior and became pregnant. While I certainly had not (I promise) PLANNED on being pregnant, after I got over the initial shock, there was a sense that a huge hole in me was in some way going to be repaired. I had to clean up my act for my baby. My marriage lasted for a very brief period, as my husband did not share my epiphany, but my second son helped me heal. Tremendously. 

I won't pretend that I haven't had other ups and downs in my life, many of my own doing on both accounts, but to say that giving up my first-born for adoption didn't have a huge impact on my life would be a lie. My first-born is now old enough to have tried to seek me out and even though I put in the initial papers that he could, he never has. Something that both grieves me and relieves me. It's probably been over 20 years since I dared even open the box containing all of the documentation and correspondence I had during those difficult times, but I still have the box. And it's a big box. It has been a long time since I grieved on his birthday, but there were many, many years that I did. Now, most birthdays go by without even remembering. Not because I don't love him, quite the opposite, but I guess my mind finally kicked in it's defense mechanism that we humans are so famous for. 

Invariably when I see surrogacy articles, I get enraged when I see all the comments about "they are selfish and should just adopt!" Do people think the mothers of adopted children didn't equally grieve? Some maybe less, but many possibly more. (There are more reasons that these comments enrage me, but I will save those for another day.) Do people not know that the amount an Indian  surrogate makes, even though small by western standards, can effectively change her and her families life? The surrogate can start a store or buy a rickshaw for her family to earn more. Things that were never even remotely possible for her prior.

Surrogate mothers choose their paths for a variety of reasons, but as long as it is their choice and they are fully informed, we should not take away that right or even judge it. Not even if the woman is poor and does it simply for the money. A poor woman wanting a better future for her family should not be held to a lower standard than other women. Knowing a little bit about Indian culture, I know that these women don't do it for pure altruistic reasons as I sometimes see touted, but that doesn't make their GIFT any less. 

Surrogacy is hard for me, but the adoption option would be even harder. My baby may have been unplanned, but he was definitely not unwanted. Not any more than my second child. I can not imagine reliving my 15 and 16 year old life from the other side of the fence. Adoption is not even on the table for us for us for many reasons, including simple ones like wondering if we would even be allowed AND our desire to have a genetic child. It was not until my most recent trip to India that I even acknowledged to myself about how my teenage years affected some of my angst of our current journey. 

Does the 40 year old me regret giving up my child for adoption? Surprisingly - no. I don't think the 20-ish one did either. I knew that the 16 year old me could not give a life to a child that even a 20 year old me could give. Even the 20 year old me had difficulties, but I think my second son turned out pretty awesome,. My first son would have had less of a chance and there is a high likelihood that if I had kept him, my second son would not have been born. 

I don't doubt that most surrogates go through pain when giving a child they have carried for 9 months to the intended parents, but I don't believe that most would want to keep the child either. The financial burden compiled with the stigma would be something that we westerners could not even begin to understand. At 16, I may not have understood all the pain that would occur with my decision to give my baby up for adoption, but it was the right decision. For me, my future self, and both of my sons. 

¹  I can ONLY speak from my experiences with my clinic, there are tons of nefarious ones out there that I hope are regulated out of business soon.

Day 8: Yay! and try not to freak out.

Had another sonogram today, more shots, met the surrogate, and went over some preliminary paperwork.

Sonogram showed 13 follicles (yay!). 5 really good size, 6 average, and 2 small. Hopefully we will get some good eggs and then embryos out of these. Right now we plan on extracting on Thursday, but Dr. P said she will confirm after my sonogram tomorrow. 

Starting to get a little worried with the timing of my husband's arrival. I recall when we were planning this trip that I commented we didn't have much buffer room for mess-up (time wise), but I didn't think much more of it. Don't think I even thought of the timing for HIS arrival at all. Saturday I realized how short we were cutting it with his arrival. He gets here on Thursday - right now I'm tentatively scheduled for egg retrieval that day. That means he will not be there when I go under, something I am NOT happy about. Think "scared" is more the word I am feeling around for. In case of emergency, we do have 2 backup samples from last time, which is  good to know, but still don't like the idea of possibly having to use them if ANYTHING goes wrong with his travel. 

Try not to freak out, Try not to freak out. 

Last time we had to go a day earlier than expected. We expected 10 days of shots (not including the trigger) and ended up with only 9. If I go on Thursday, this will mean that I only had 8 days. I think the average person goes 9-12 days. I'm hormonal and irritable at my husband right now. Even more at myself for not looking at his schedule more closely and insisting on better buffers. 

Try not to freak out. Try not to freak out. 

Ok, got that out of my system for now.

On a different note: met the surrogate today. The surrogate is 28 years old, 121 lbs and 5'3 (I think she's 5'2 1/2). She has a brightness to her eyes and is ready with a smile. Sadly, she is going through a divorce and wishes to have enough money to get her own house and have some left over to go towards her son's education. 

When people talk about exploiting the poor, I really wonder if they think of things like this. Many months ago I looked up Gujarat house/flat prices and I remember being amazed how low they were. A surrogate in the USA could NEVER buy a house for what a woman could here in India. Sure, it may be a small house/flat compared to what we are used to, but so are most of the homes I have been to here. Even in very well to do homes. A woman could not earn the equivalent of 10+ years salary for surrogacy in the USA and they could not have left over funds to educate their children. When you see the lives here that have had such a positive impact due to Dr. Patel and surrogacy, it's easy to see why she does not let her critics affect her. 

Ok, got that out of my system for now.

Please let this take this time. I don't think we could come back again for another try with my eggs. Please please please. 

Hopefully this cow gave me her blessings. I gave her and a baby cow some of my leftover Malai Kofta and rice. Actually I gave it to the calf, but then she came and took it over. I'm ok with that. Maybe I'll get double blessings. 

Boss cow

Baby cow eating bushes after a few bites of delivery

Friday's hustle

As noted in my post: Days are Flying By: Day 6, I ran into some hustlers the other day. Be forewarned, by the way I feel today, I am clearly hormonal from my shots. Happened to me last IVF cycle right around this time as well.

Friday I went in search of a store I heard about from the http://dr-patel-surrogacy.com/ forum (started from a former patient of Dr. Patel's). The store was called 7-eleven and it was the local baby store. I wanted to check to see if they had any Indian clothes for one of my BFF's that is expecting in October. She and her husband lived in India for a short duration many years ago and I knew she would love it.

A gentleman at the clinic gave me directions, but I got a little lost on the way. Not a super big deal because I was close enough to the clinic that I knew I could find my way back if needed. Plus I had a map on my phone of where I was going, and used it in tandem with the remarkably accurate iPhone map (that locates where you are.) No biggie.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman walking some distance away, carrying another women. Having recently watch the CARE video (netflix) on polio, I instantly assume she is carrying a relative that has been struck with that horrible disease; especially since it is not uncommon in India. I've seen it in many other parts of India, but I can't remember seeing it in Anand (with the possible exception of a girl I gave money to outside the clinic the other day).

The ladies and I were walking at opposite ends of a right angle, thus our paths were bound to cross. I knew she would ask for money, and I'm a sucker for that sort of thing (though less in major cities as it is sometimes connected to nefarious groups). As soon as our eyes met she headed for me and I acquiesced by giving her a small bit: more than my Indian friends would have approved of, but still a paltry amount by US standards. She asked for more, but I declined. Something about when a beggar asks for more usually sends a red flag up in my experience. The heat is getting to me and I sit down on some stairs for a minute. Sure enough, I watch as the woman, now a block away, sets the other woman down and they continue walking, smiling, and chatting. I shake my head and smile as you can only do when these things happen.

Another elderly woman approaches and I give her a small amount as well. She's old and is almost completely void of pigment. Something about her rings true and she thanks/blesses me as she walks away. I figure at this point I should move away from the area I am in. It's heavily populated and too many people have seen me give money away. There are no other non-Indians anywhere to be seen and I have just painted a big bulls-eye on myself. Start walking a different direction and less than 60 seconds passes when 2 girls start following me.

Here is when I start to bristle. These girl are not poor. This is quite obviously a game to them. They are dressed well in good saris and are giggling as much as they are begging. Clearly this is a game to see if I will pay them to leave me alone. They follow me creating a scene, begging, giggling, and occasionally pulling at my shirt as I walk. Let me pause here it say that the last part is especially stressful for me as I used to have anxiety attacks about stuff like that. Just crowds in general with people bumping into me. (I've come a long way baby.)

I repeatedly tell the girls "no" in english and in Hindi. My breath starts getting a little shallow, but I'm determined not to let it get to me.  Realize that even if I WANTED to pay them to leave me alone, that this will invite others to harass me, so I hold steadfast in my principles even though it is only a miniscule amount. A shopkeeper, half laughing, takes pity on me at a corner and tells the girls to leave me alone. After a few stern comments from him and my continue refusal to give in, they finally walk away laughing. I take a deep breath, shrug/smile at the shop keeper, thank him, and continue on my journey. As I resume looking for the 7-eleven, I notice that I had just begun to shake a little. My in-laws words "take no tension!" echo in my ear.

The shop is right around the corner, and I welcome the cool AC. They have some FREAKING AWESOME Indian baby clothes. In my heart I know I can't buy these on my own because I will be horrifically overcharged, so I tell them I will come back with my husband. I think he will be tickled when he sees the little outfits, but may have been irritated if I let them rob me. Anyway, I'm in no mood to bargain.

This is probably one of my biggest stresses of India. I do not mind helping people (beggars) who are genuinely poor and have very few options, but the scammers make this difficult. Part of your heart begins to harden because you begin to notice so many hustles. What is one to do? Many times I  think of trying to start a project that helps people in severe poverty, but right now the idea is overshadowed with self-doubts of how I would be able to do this effectively as a foreigner.

Had some further things tried on me today when trying to purchase some local fruit, but I'll save that for another post. That's probably what set me off today as I was trying to buy extra fruit to give away instead of money. In my mind I thought it was a win-win: help a vendor by purchasing and have something for people on hand that are genuinely hungry (and makes me less of a target.) Hormones and people trying to charge me too much, made this idea a bust.

These are the complications I don't have to worry about when I help animals.