Happy 2013!

Just want to say Happy New Year to everyone!  Although we are no longer blogging, we are still keeping up with other blogs and we are continuously contacted by new IPs considering the process and some that are in the thick of it.  Thank you for confiding in us!  We are happy to answer questions, to calm nerves and to send best wishes - just as so many did for us.  It is so wonderful to read about the perseverance and success stories.  For those of you still trying, keep your eye on the prize and don't give up - good things DO come to those who wait.

Life is wonderful for us and Archer is an incredible boy.  Believe it or not, he will be two years old on February 17th!  Not a day goes by without Geoff or I commenting on how lucky we are and how remarkable Archer is. Here are some recent pictures for you to enjoy...

Reflections

Archer was born almost two years ago. Throughout that time people have asked, "So, big life changer having a baby, huh?" In truth, Shannon and I worked so hard to make Archer a reality that our lives had already changed long before February 17, 2011. I might go so far as to say that having a baby in our lives was a relief. This was life back to normal. We slipped into parenthood like it was a favorite slipper. We were home.

Success has a way of ironing over difficulty. Wearing Archer-colored glasses, our thoughts about the India experience can't help but be influenced by our knowledge of a happy ending. I mean, it worked! Once upon a time, our first attempt with S ended in a miscarriage. Those days were filled with sadness, steely optimism, and a wish that the damn thing would just work. Today that first attempt is a convenient anecdote adding suspense to a tale with a guaranteed happy ending. The fact is surrogacy in India doesn't always work any more than surrogacy at home would work. It's not a guarantee, just an alternative for those with limited alternatives. Shannon and I were tattooed by that experience and will carry it with us everywhere but we were one of the lucky ones.

Archer is an exceptional boy. Bear with me here as I know what you're thinking. I'm reminded of something my father once said. "Look. I realize that as a grandfather, I am expected to be biased. Let me tell you, being as objective as a person can be - Archer is the cutest, smartest, most amazing little baby to ever be born on this earth." He does smile, really, just about all the time. Only cries when he has good reason. Sleeps well, eats well and lights up around others. He loves his parents and he couldn't make us more proud. But sure, he's not the first baby to be like this. But he's still amazing. Let me explain...

There are 7 billion people on our planet. Sounds like a lot but consider that every time a man and woman join, over 300 million sperm fight for the right to grow. And consider how many unions fail to result in any pregnancy at all. And consider how many people of the seven billion fail to meet one another, the number of possible joinings that never happen. That 7 billion actually represents a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the possible number of people that could have been or would be born. And even then, after all of these caveats, after factoring out all of the reasons standing in the way of each individual being born - Archer still would not be on this planet.

It took one other additional step. It took the meeting of a couple with a woman willing to carry a baby to term. A woman who nurtured the baby not just in a general sense but in quite a personal way. Her whole life experience had an impact on our son. Her physical health and her emotional health. Studies tell us that even personality can be influenced in-utero. Archer is the product not just from the coupling of mom and dad's DNA but of the world given to him by S in, of all places, Mumbai, India.

Archer is truly an amazing boy. And if you are contemplating surrogacy, we wish you an amazing child all of your own.

Homecoming

Leaving nothing to chance, Shannon, Archer and I arrived at the airport about four hours early. Built on a swamp, Mumbai International must be borderline unbearable during the rainy season. March, relatively dry and temperate, is no more considerate. Filled with a hot, humid air, the terminal made every effort to reproduce Archer's very recent uterine experience. This leaden sensory weight was enhanced with thrill ride-like movement undertaken by mom and dad to spare Archer from attack by squadrons of mosquitoes. Leaving was bittersweet but desperately welcome.

Praise be, we found ourselves in a center row with an empty seat. This meant we could put Archer, resting in his awesome EuroTote, between the two of us. Resigned to the idea that one of us would be holding Archer for every minute of the 16 hour flight, we celebrated this karmic gift, India's going away present.

 

Archer very excited to be going HOME!

The flight itself was uneventful. We even discovered that our worries about disturbing other passengers were misplaced. The engine noise more than drowned out Archer's month old chirps. The layover in New Jersey for our connection to Boston was stressful only to the extent that seconds passed like hours. The transition itself was easy enough.

We had traveled for over twenty hours with a newborn, a boy so young that his passport photo was borderline comical, and we hadn't had one inconvenient minute.

We deplaned in Boston and flew through Customs to meet a crowd with signs and flowers. Archer met his extended family for the first time and then somehow managed to fall asleep, leaving his parents to fend for themselves as they fought a potent combination of exhaustion and relief.

The entire India experience was over. We were just another family.

The handler handles

We had no hotel receipt and no summary hospital receipt. Indian bureaucracy was salivating at the thought of how much longer we could be kept in India. I'm not a panicker but this was too good a moment to pass up a respectable emotional breakdown...

Our handler took over and kicked ass. He called the hospital and ensured everything was ready and waiting for me when I showed up so they would quickly sign it over. He also called the hotel and arranged for them to fax a document attesting to their possession of a credit card pre-charged with the outstanding balance, ensuring they'd be paid in full. We went to the final interview room, shared the news with my very crestfallen wife, and then I ran outside to grab our driver for a sprint to the hospital.

Get a driver while in India. Surrogacy India ensured we always had one and they were worth their weight in gold. Driving in India is a test of courage for anyone but to drive paranoid foreigners takes real skill. And I don't care how safe India can be. I want to know that my driver isn't taking a detour to Mugging Central. You are at their mercy so get someone trustworthy. Once you have them, they literally sit around and wait all day for your call. Our driver was outside the FRRO. He gunned the (tiny) engine and sped me to the birthing hospital.

Needless to say, I got the receipt and - upon returning to the FRRO - drove with the handler to a local Internet cafe to receive a fax from the hotel attesting to my ability to pay. With all of these documents in hand we returned to the FRRO for our interview. Shannon and Archer were sweaty and cranky but relieved.

The interview comprised mainly of my sitting humbly in a chair while a blue-shirted government employee flipped through my binder and collected fees. At one point we were sent away and told to wait. The handler spoke to the employee one-on-one to find out the delay and then came to us with a request for 500 rupees. You got it! Problem solved, I sat back down at the desk, eyes lowered in submission, and collected Archer's officially stamped exit visa.

Holy crap. It was 4pm on Thursday, March 10. We had been in country for 24 days. In my hands were every document we needed to leave India with Archer. The process was over. Now we were just tourists heading home.

Oh handler! How I love thee! Let me count the ways..... 2000 rupees will do the trick? You got it!

The beginning of the end

[With Archer came release in more ways than one - including my drive to publish new entries. Shannon has been begging, pleading, threatening me to finish this blog. There is more to share and the story should be told. Let's pick up the thread...]

All told, it took us three weeks of aimless waiting to get Archer his US passport. We literally had to sit around and bide our time on a three week waiting list because the US Consulate had limited visitor hours and one heck of a backlog. The only solace was our understanding that once we established Archer's nationality and got our hands on a passport, the final pre-departure step - getting our little guy an exit visa at the FRRO - could occur the morning of the flight home. As our three week clock (and aimless pleading with the US Consulate for an earlier visit) wound down, we gambled on this next-day fact and booked a Thursday evening flight out of Mumbai, the day after our Wednesday appointment to get Archer his passport.

The US Consulate visit proceeded, shockingly, just as expected. With all our documents in order - including Archer's super cool dual language Hindi/English birth certificate - the local personnel needed no more than 45 minutes to process everything. Shannon and I raised our right hands, swore that all the information we provided was true, and then collected the new passport. Archer was now formally recognized as ours and as a US citizen! Shannon and I locked eyes at the enormity of this moment. All it lacked was a puff of smoke as, like magic, with one hand-raised incantation, Archer officially became our boy. We left with a letter attesting to this fact, a key ingredient for acquiring his exit visa. Overall, it's hard to complain about this process considering the comparatively low hurdle next to most other countries. Try bringing a baby born of surrogacy into, say, Italy or England. Commercial surrogacy is illegal in those countries and the red tape can literally require months of India-based residency before permission is granted to return home.

We ran back to the hotel and packed. The plan was to hit the FRRO - India's exit visa-granting agency - early the next morning and then kill time before our flight. On the spur of the moment we decided to formally enlist the aid of a handler to help us through the FRRO process just to be sure our departure wouldn't suffer any delays. As it turns out, this was the greatest decision we made throughout our entire stay....

No exit

The final step for bringing a child of Indian surrogacy home is to get him/her an exit visa. Sure, your country's consulate has determined that the little guy or girl (or multiple!) is really yours and really a citizen, but India needs to independently reach this conclusion as well. That's the role of the Foreigners Regional Registration Office - or FRRO. Well, that's the stated goal.

The unstated goal is they want to make sure you've paid your bills while in India. Seriously, one of the most crucial stumbling blocks to getting an exit visa for your child is to have paid-in-full receipts from every single vendor you interacted with during your stay. This was the source of our problem at the FRRO - but more on that in a moment.

Our research had led us to believe that use of a handler at the FRRO was a smart move. It could cost us more than 100 USD but the benefit was having a local who understood the official and unofficial processes enforced by this Indian agency. To guarantee a same day departure, and after spending tens of thousands of dollars, another $100 or so seemed a pittance if it would get us the heck out of India. So we called a guy recommended by Surrogacy India and booked his time for Thursday, March 10 - the morning of our flight home.

Consulate papers now in hand, we gathered every scrap of material ever produced in advance of and during our stay in India. The idea was to anticipate any possible question or objection, to have proof of every decision and every step taken, giving the FRRO no leeway to delay our request. We even packed extra rupees to, you know, "accidentally" overpay the bureaucrat handling our case. And let's be clear - our handler told us to pack these extra rupees. It's just how things work.

The Mumbai office of the FRRO was located in a building that, like most building in India, exuded an aura of untrustworthiness. Is it safe? Will it collapse? Who are all those people looking at us and why aren't there more lights?

And like any government office, the FRRO - located on the fourth floor of a walk-up - was a line making machine.

Get there early, we were told. So we met our handler at 10am - the earliest he could meet us - and walked up the four flights with Archer and our 10 pound information-packed binder to start our first line. This line existed to make sure you had what you needed to sit in the second line. Shannon and Archer grabbed a seat in the room where the final interview would take place. I sat with the handler. He went through our materials. Documentation from Surrogacy India capturing the entire process? Check. US Consulate materials? Check. Hotel receipts? Wait, what? We didn't even check out yet. We have to check out before coming here? Well, a few rupees could smooth that over. Hospital receipts? Sure. But where is the final paid-in-full receipt? A what? Here are the receipts.... Sure, but where is the final paid-in-full receipt? I don't have a general receipt saying paid-in-full.  I have lots of little receipts.

No paid-in-full receipt, no exit visa.

It was 11:30 in the morning and I had to go to the hospital - 90 minutes away - to get a receipt. The FRRO closed at 5pm. There was a huge line ahead of us. Shannon and Archer are sweating their butts off in a crowded waiting room. I was in India!

We may not be leaving after all.

My Farewell

Understandably, you may be asking - "Why haven't they been blogging?" It's no surprise to me that I've delayed writing because I've known this will be my last post, closing the book on a long, emotional but very successful journey. Geoff and I knew when we began this blog that we wanted to limit ourselves to the details of our Indian surrogacy experience. We certainly had no intention of carrying on the blog beyond our child's birth. (All bets are off if there's another child in our future. If so, our supportive readers will be the first to know!)

Before sharing some closing thoughts and photos, I'd love to list just a few of Archer's latest and greatest achievements... Archer is now eight months old! He has two very cute bottom teeth that seem quite content to live without neighbors.  Our tiny giant weighs  24.5 lbs. and is 29" long.  He's rolling, sitting up on his own and just starting to test the waters for crawling. Archer is a cheerful, happy baby who hardly ever cries or makes much of a fuss. He eats well (boy does he eat!), sleeps well, wakes up smiling, is very alert and aware of his surroundings and has REALLY found his voice. (Our next door neighbors are quite impressed!) For some reason, as much as we tell him to be careful with strangers, he gives more gummy grins than one can imagine, luring in crowds of swooning women. Geoff figures that as a single guy he could have really used Archer well.

I am now a stay-at-home mom and there is not a day that goes by when I don't thank my lucky stars (and my husband) for it. Life with Archer is simply superb and it gets even better each day. When it comes to him, I am complete mush.  I never knew I could love someone so much.  He tugs on my heartstrings when he is upset and fills my heart with love and happiness the rest of the time. The bond I share with him is one I could not have dreamed of, one I will never forget and one I am eternally grateful for.  I'm so, so happy that Geoff and I took a leap of faith together to go through this process. Without a doubt, Archer was worth the wait.

I recently spoke with a couple who is considering the surrogacy route and it was so surreal. Not too long ago, it was Geoff and I on the phone with others who successfully had babies through surrogacy in India and now, we are those parents telling people that dreams DO come true. Archer is everything I could have wanted and more. He is the love of my life (aside from Geoff) and I'm so incredibly thankful that options like surrogacy in India are available. We would love, Love, LOVE to have more children and although there are some bumps in this process, we recommend it to others researching surrogacy. My advice in a nutshell is to research the agencies that are available until you are blue in the face and then speak with others who have gone through the process. Not only are their experiences helpful but they (and now we) will inspire you and bring you hope.

With endless gratitude I'd like to thank Surrogacy India and all of the couples who shared their skills, experiences and insights. Archer would not exist were it not for the patience, honesty and devotion granted to us by all of these wonderful people. And if you're still trying to make this work, still trying to find your own distant miracle - keep your eye on the prize because all I know is that sometimes, with effort and perseverence, dreams do come true! xoxo  PS, Keep an eye open for Geoff's final post(s).

Archer & His New Pad

Could he be any cuter?!?!

PS, Check out the blog entry right before this one (two entries in one night!)

PPS, Keep in mind that you can click on any picture to make it larger

My Social Network

I know, I know, this is long overdue and for that I do apologize.  Life with Archer is phenomenal and we've been busy enjoying each minute we have with him!  For being the kind, patient supporters you all are, tonight I'll post two entries and lots of photos!!

At just over seven weeks old, Archer is sleeping longer and even getting used to his crib (although he looks like such an itty bitty thing in it).  He's too darn cute! He is also starting to smile, all the while growing like a weed.  Or maybe I should be saying he's growing like our house.  Why do I say that?  Refer to Exhibit A...

I swore I'd never have all of this baby gear but every time I think we're done, something else suddenly feels very important. The latest - a wipes warmer for Archer's tushie.  He really doesn't like being changed so I thought if the wipes were warm, perhaps he wouldn't hate it as much.  I'm not sure if he's getting used to having his diaper changed or if he likes the warm wipes but it's working!  (And, our lovely downstairs neighbor brought up an excellent point - who wouldn't want warm wipes to clean our bottoms?!)  Next on my "need list" are toilet paper warmers for the guest bathroom and the master bathroom!

We are privileged because not only did we have an unforgettable baby shower, but we received so many incredible gifts that we haven't had to purchase too much.  Our shower was at a beautiful oceanfront inn located in Rockport, MA and several friends and family contributed, truly making it a very special day.  The gift side of the dining room overflowed, coupled with the swelling sounds of family and friends and live music from the inn's piano.

The tables were decorated with gorgeous linens 

and place cards in the shape of prams. 

In the center of each table were large glass cylinder vases topped with flowers and filled with charming baby do-dads, such as hand painted blocks, baby shoes and custom printed onesies... 

Who can forget the take home gifts?!  Mocha buttercream filled chocolate cupcakes topped with adorable polka dot elephants from an amazing pastry chef. 

The view and all of the decor were memorable but nothing can top the sense of genuine happiness that filled the room.  Over 50 close friends and family were there and it warms 

my heart to know we're so loved.

Archer's cousin, baby Isla in her stunning pink ruffle dress with Nanny, Auntie Shannon and Mommy

We're Home!

Sorry for the long delay but between jet lag and an immeasurably large mob of family and friends, we've just not had the time or ability to post. The good news - great news! - is that we're home and can now lose sleep in our own house, and not a hotel, like any other couple with a newborn. We have much to share about our last couple of days and will do so soon. For now, however, it's stunning merely to realize we're near the end of the Indian chapter in our lives.

Our pediatrician tells us that Archer is supremely healthy and quite impressed at how our little guy has already grown over 1 pound (to 8 pounds 13 ounces) and 1.5 inches (to 22 inches) in less than a month. Today is his one month birthday and let me tell you, after all we've been through, it's hard to believe Archer's just barely 30 days old.

Our love to everyone out there in the blogosphere for your support during that oh so long stay in Mumbai. Here are some pictures to say thank you. (Clicking on them opens a larger size.)

Just after Archer's first real bath. Sponge baths on Marriott beds don't count!

In his very own Moses basket.

Note the white mitten. Archer's always landing planes with his hands,
even in his sleep, so the mittens keep things soft and safe.

The kind of hat mommies go crazy for.

This is what greeted us at the airport.

And this is what greeted us at the house.

The view outside our house. It's good to be home!

Our Big Break

Three cheers for Shannon's kidney stones and the pain she's been in for about two months! Thanks to a note faxed by Shannon's physician to the US Consulate about this chronic kidney condition, our appointment was moved up. First it was moved from the 15th to the 11th, a Friday. Nice - better than nothing - but still keeping us here an extra weekend as the passport takes one business day for delivery. Then, magically, a phone call Wednesday asked if we could come in Thursday. Um, yes! The beauty of this last shift is it means we can fly home Friday instead of Monday. Shannon's already put in a cheeseburger order to Five Guys.

Shannon's kidney stones make infrequent but always memorable visits, particularly when she's under a lot of stress. In fact, the last serious bout before this trip to India occurred during the weeks leading up to our wedding. Shannon was literally on bed rest and Vicodin for the week following our I do's. It's a good thing we'd put off a serious honeymoon until later in life because we would have had to cancel it. Anyway, as our return to Mumbai loomed, coupled with the threats of an early delivery due to R's placenta previa, the stones decided to reappear. We typically don't even think to mention the pain because, sadly, it's just something Shannon periodically needs to tolerate until either natural elimination or surgery. But once we heard a medical emergency could expedite our appointment, silence went out the window.

Having just come back from the US Consulate we remain a little dumbfounded about why they limit each day to two Birth Abroad visits. Getting through security took longer than the actual governmental red tape - maybe ninety minutes all told. Certainly, it helped that we had our act together. Here's what was required:

• Completed passport and social security applications, no different from applications one would complete in the US
• Completed Consulate Report of Birth Abroad (CRBA) form
• Copy of the surrogacy agreement we'd signed with R during our first trip to India back in February of last year
• Copy of letters from our clinic, Hiranandani Hospital and Babies R Us IVF, all of which attest to our pursuit of surrogacy and the birth of Archer
• Two 2" x 2" photos of Archer (we had a photographer come to our hotel room last week to take these photos)
• Copy of our passports and marriage certificate
• $205

That's it. We handed over the above, waited about 25 minutes, and then - with right hands raised - attested to the fact that Archer was indeed our son and that all the information we'd provided was accurate. Boom! Archer became a US citizen.

The Consulate was, as expected, a bit of a compound, populated with armed, Indian guards inside and out. We had to check in at a non-descript kiosk behind bullet-proof glass and then put up with a fairly extensive bag search that included my tasting of Archer's baby food. Limited to one bag and not allowed to bring in our bottles of hand sanitizer and hand cream (the Consulate's tougher than an airport), we put excess items in a locker and then walked through a metal detector and metal turnstile onto the grounds. It was a short outdoor walk to what appeared to be the main Consulate building, climbing marble stairs into a sterile lobby with doors off in all directions. On the wall was a picture of President Obama - and yes, I couldn't help but feel a bit of pride and place. Shannon and I were buzzed through to a small, heavily air conditioned room filled with straight-backed chairs facing another bullet-proof window. It was with the folks behind this window that we exchanged all of the above paperwork. Throughout the entire experience, all interaction was with locals except for the very end when we were sworn by a young American woman, Christy.

The passport will be available for pickup at 9:30 in the morning tomorrow. The three of us will grab it and then immediately head on over to the Foreigner Regional Registration Office (FRRO) - an Indian agency tasked with doling out, among other things, exit visas. Shannon and I will be enlisting the help of a partner to our surrogacy clinic who specializes in work with the FRRO. We want smooth sailing, no surprises and an exit visa for Archer on the same day. (Technically, exit visas can take anywhere from 1 to 15 days for delivery.) If all goes to plan, we'll be done sometime around lunch with perhaps a little time to spare for a visit to the Colaba markets before our 2pm late check out. We'll be begging for an even later check out as our flight doesn't leave 'til 11:40pm. That's a lot of time to kill.

Cross your fingers. We were able to purchase two aisle seats in an empty three seat middle row. (No bassinet seats were available.) If that middle seat remains empty we'll have a place to put Archer during the 16 hour flight back to the States. Otherwise, we'll be holding him all the way back - a nice capper to a long stay away.

We're ready. You can tell just by watching Shannon. She's skipping right now and will do so right until we're seated, buckled in and on our way home.

Random Thoughts While Killing Time

My hair grows like a weed. This fact isn't normally at the top of my 'share with others' list but I have to mention it because I'm approaching afro stage. We always knew this was a possibility and even took the precaution of a visit to my hairdresser a mere day before our departure to Mumbai. As we enter the uncharted waters of week four and I'm Code Orange for excessive hair, I have to confront one of two options - let it approach comical proportions, only minorly tamed by hair products, or let Shannon grab a pair of scissors and embrace her inner Tabatha Coffey. This decision is further complicated by relationship-bearing overtones. If I go with the 'fro, is it because I have trust issues? If I truly love my wife, particularly on International Women's Day - completely unknown to me until the Mariott Courtyard slipped a card, addressed to my wife, under the door - shouldn't I throw caution to the wind and let her untrained hand give it a go? Me and my mane will sleep on it.

Today we'll be ordering Domino's for dinner. The store's only a three minute walk from the hotel but, as you read in an earlier post, that walk takes one via time warp into an earlier age that screams pizza delivery. The trick is communicating what we want over the phone. Look, we're in India. The fact that most locals speak English at all is such a blessing for an outsider that I remain quite humble and patient in my communications. Nevertheless, I confess to a slight bit of frustration when trying to get past the accent. (Yes, they have the accent - not me!) If I could communicate with Domino's by written word, Shannon and I would be golden. Unfortunately, that's not the case.

• Restaurant - "Domino's pizza. [something something] you?
• Geoff - "Yes, I'm at the Marriott Courtyard right down the street. I like to order a pizza for delivery, please."
• Restaurant - "[something] [something]" that I think sounds like "Small or large?"
• Geoff - "What? Sorry. I'm at the Marriott Courtyard."
• Restaurant - "Marriott? Ok. Delivery?"
• Geoff - "Yes. I'd like one large pizza, half cheese and half sausage."
• Restaurant - "Two large sausage pizzas with cheese."
• Geoff - "Yes. Absolutely. That's it."

Mind you. The person on the phone is speaking perfectly correct English. I just can't weed through the accent, apparently no better than they can weed through mine.

We're timing our food order so it arrives just as we finish feeding Archer. This process takes about 45 minutes to an hour between waking him up - he almost never wakes himself - changing his diaper, delivering between 3 and 4 ounces of formula, and playing/cuddling with him until he's ready to drop off for another nap. Every step is an absolute joy and characterized by some overly cute maneuver that just floors us. For example, he's got this very rapid 'angry fish caught on a hook' head shaking maneuver - it must be some sort of rooting instinct - when the bottle first goes in his mouth and it makes us laugh every single time. The burps - adorable. The gas - endearing. Those gummy cries - how can you not hug him? Right now Shannon's doing a little Jazzercise with Archer, pumping his legs back and forth. He's this little beeping, grunting and gasping squeeze toy in the midst of a king-size bed that's burrowed his way into our hearts.

Shannon and I are very much an eat-dinner-with-tv-on couple. I think it comes from being married late in life - both of us were in our mid to late thirties and thus had our fair share of home alone meals. Mumbai is no different but this presents a problem. We've already talked about the limited tv options and how frustrating the Web can be. I've managed to make Amazon Instant Video tolerable but we still default to the potluck randomness of India tv. Sometimes we get lucky with quality like Black Hawk Down. Other times we're lucky if Kenya has extended it's innings performance into the ninth hour of it's Cricket World Cup match. On the list of things Shannon and I have learned about India is the fact that there are only five commercials on tv in any given week. You name the commercial, we've seen it about 183 times. You may have wondered why during both trips Shannon and I settle upon a favorite tv ad. It's because there's so few to choose from and so many repetitive viewings that you can't help but enjoy some rarity and despise most. The Mute button on our remote is about to fall off and the inane tunes from a couple of particularly annoying commercials are plaguing us in our sleep. We practically welcome Archer's whimpers.

Time to call Domino's. I'm hopeful that with a couple more orders I'll be able to keep things really simple. "Hi, it's Geoff. The usual please!"