Dads: A gay couple's surrogacy journey in India by Hans M. Hirschi Read Free Book Online Page B

impossible task really, but a necessary one. But placing a monetary value on a mother based on the color of her skin would never enter our mind. We, therefore, chose an Indian donor. This was not an economic decision. But we chose a beautiful (to our gay eyes) donor, who is living a good life, with a good education (bonus) and an open, outgoing personality.
    That’s where we are at this stage. In ten days, we'll have to make a choice (again) of surrogate and then I'm ready to fly to India to do my part for your physical creation. The only obstacle right now is my visa, which still hasn't been processed (or at least I haven't received my passport back). That's my biggest worry right now, because I'll need my passport back before we leave for the US and our well-deserved vacation! :)

 

July 9, 2012: Surrogacy: Flying to India to make a “donation”
     
    It feels weird, on more than one level…
    Yesterday, we came back from San Francisco and today, 16 hours later, I boarded the next flight. Oddly, the same crew that flew us home from Frankfurt, flew me back to Frankfurt where I'm now sitting in the lounge, overlooking one of Europe's busiest airports, waiting for my connection to Mumbai.
    It's a safe bet to say that I'm nervous. Heck, I even had to take a couple aspirins on the flight here, and that’s not only because I slept miserably last night. There are so many things rushing through my mind.
    Every child I see reminds me of the journey we're undertaking. Every time a child cries, I wonder if “ours” will react the same way, if it's what they do or if it’s just bad parenting.
    Children screaming on flights make me wonder if we'll ever be able to fly again the way we do today or if we have to resign ourselves back to the miserable masses flying coach. LOL
    Plenty of doubt. Am I too old? Are we doing the right thing? Should we give foster care another chance instead? They just sent us a note saying that 'someone' will be working if we wanted to talk during their summer vacation… I wonder what I'd want to talk to them about? Betrayal maybe? Homophobia?
    Naturally, I'm also nervous about the process itself. Flying halfway across the world to undertake this wondrous journey that normally takes place in the seconds that bind him and her together over a dinner table, under a shower, behind a bar desk or in bed. That process that will be so sterile and involve not only me but also two women and a truck load of doctors, nurses and laboratory staff, not to mention legal and financial staff. There’s even a driver to take me from my hotel to the clinic and the agency. It's an odd feeling, creating the wonder of a child this way.
    Will it work? Will we be successful the first time around or do we have to attempt this more than once? Will we become parents of one or two kids? Boys? Girls? Maybe one of each? Will we be able to cope with the nightly feeding rituals or will our relationship suffer over the fighting of who has to get up and feed? Or will we find a solution that makes our bond even stronger?
    How will my demented mother react to becoming a “Grosi”? Last night, my dad sent me a text saying not to mention this to her yet. I kinda told him to get the process started, because once we're pregnant, he's on a clock.
    Then there is all the other stuff around work, parental leave and how people around us will react, but that isn't something I worry too much about. If someone doesn't support us in this, the loss is entirely theirs!
    Sometimes I get misty eyed when I imagine myself holding the baby to my chest. I won't have a breast to allow the child to feed on, but I know how important the feeling of a parent's skin and warmth is for the bonding and well-being of the child, so with that image in mind, I dream of holding mine one day and that is the feeling that overcomes every doubt I can conjure up.
    In the end, I feel that it is the doubt, the humility before this task that will make us good parents. And this is