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Looking for a
Surrogate Mother or an egg donor?
This book
is a moving real-life account of one woman's struggle
with infertility and her journey through surrogacy to
have the family she desperately wanted.
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Latest Surrogacy News
And baby makes
three! Or four…
The big day finally arrives and with it
comes a few surprises. But our eager new fathers, Mike
and David, take it all in stride. Fatherhood, it seems,
is everything they’d hoped for, and more.
By
Mike Menichiello
Advocate.com November 14, 2003
Birth Story
My partner, David; my
mom; and I landed in Reno, Nev., on a Wednesday in
October and made a beeline to the hospital in Lake
Tahoe, Calif., where our surrogate mother, Michelle, had
been since 6 p.m. that morning.
"There’s not much going
on," Michelle said as we walked into the delivery room.
"I’m about only four centimeters dilated, so we have a
long way to go before we make it to 10." Soon after, a
doctor and nurse walked in to give Michelle her
long-awaited epidural—a lovely shot that numbs your
lower body. Before we all settled in I took David to the
motel room. He had been up the entire night before with
some sort of stomach virus. Before I dropped him off I
promised to call him the minute something started to
happen.
The hours passed
slowly. Michelle was in good spirits and breathing
through her contractions. "They don’t hurt," she said.
"It just feels like a lot of pressure, and they are
getting stronger and quicker." By 6 o’clock, however,
she started to really feel them. A nurse confirmed she
was at six centimeters and about 80% effaced. "What does
that mean?" I asked. "That means things are going along
pretty well," the nurse replied, "but we still have a
ways to go, so I would suggest getting comfortable."
"Well," Michelle chimed
in, "I’m getting more and more uncomfortable with each
contraction, so I’d like my epi upped if that’s
possible." Until then Michelle had been surprisingly
calm and relaxed. But I could tell from the tone in her
voice that she was starting to get anxious. Michelle
would have to wait, though, since the anesthesiologist
had gone to his son’s soccer game and wouldn’t be back
until 6:30 p.m.—at the earliest. The nurse wanted to
check Michelle again, so Mom and I made our way to the
other side of the curtain. Then I heard Michelle yell,
"Mike, call David! Call David now! This baby is
coming!"
We scrambled back into
the room not knowing what to do or where to go. Mom
headed toward Michelle, who was lying on her side, and I
headed to the phone. David picked up after the first
ring. "You’d better get over here," I said, trying not
to sound too panicked. "I’m on my way," David said,
"everything will be fine." By now both Mom and Michelle
were sobbing through the latest contraction. I just
remember my heart jumping into my mouth. There was no
time. The baby was coming, and there was no time.
As Michelle’s
obstetrician walked into the room, I switched places
with Mom and held Michelle’s hand. "Do I have time to
change my shoes?" the doctor. joked. "They’re new! I’d
hate to ruin them!"
"No, doctor!" an
excited nurse in the room yelled, "There’s no time.
Michelle has crowned”—they could see the baby’s
head—“get over here now!" Suddenly there was a flurry of
activity. Mom was standing about a foot away sobbing,
two nurses had come into the room with a large table
covered in blue cloth, and the doctor was getting into
position.
"I can’t move,"
Michelle told one of the nurses who was trying to get
her flat on her back. "I just can’t." With that,
Michelle let out a grunt and was told to push again. "I
can’t wait," Michelle repeated over and over to me. "I
can’t wait for David."
"Just do what you have
to do, Michelle," I said, while trying not to look.
"He’ll be here any second." With that, she let out
another grunt and pushed again. The next sound we all
heard was a newborn baby’s crying.
"Congratulations,
Daddy," the obstetrician said. "It’s a girl!" My head
hit Michelle’s chest, and we both were in tears. I
couldn’t stop saying “Thank you.” Michelle couldn’t stop
saying “No, thank you” in return. We cried, we laughed,
we stood in amazement. I cut the cord, and at that very
same moment a stunned David walked into the room, right
behind an even more stunned anesthesiologist.
"That was way too fast.
Did I tear?" Michelle asked the doctor. "No," the doctor
replied. "She came out so fast, you’re lucky there
aren’t skid marks!" We all shared a laugh, and David and
I broke down in each other’s arms. We were now
officially daddies.
"I did it! I really,
really did it!" Michelle repeated over and over through
her tears. "I helped make a family."
"Yes, you did," David
said. "You’ve made our dreams come true, and for that,
we can’t thank you enough."
The next few hours were
spent in examination rooms, where Lillian was weighed
(eight pounds on the nose) and measured (20 inches
long). Her handprints and footprints were taken, and she
took it all in stride.
Believe it or not,
Michelle and Lillian were both released from the
hospital the very next morning. Before we left, David
and I gave Michelle a heart-shaped diamond necklace to
show our love and appreciation. "Stop thanking me,"
Michelle said. "I’m the one who has to thank you guys
for choosing me and making my dreams come true."
We all headed back to
the motel to get some much needed rest. I can’t begin to
explain how amazing it was to be sitting in our hotel
room with David, my mother, our daughter, and her
surrogate mother—all celebrating the arrival of a very
special little girl. We spent the night in California,
then headed back toward Reno to see Michelle off. Our
pediatrician suggested keeping Lilly put until that
coming Sunday at the earliest. The next day we were
walking Michelle to the gate at the airport. After long
hugs and fawning over Lillian we watched her walk toward
the security checkpoint. We didn’t say "goodbye," just
“talk to you tonight."
The four of us headed
to the Hilton in Reno, where we thought we could find a
room, but it appeared that every hotel in Reno was
booked and booked solid for the entire weekend. Luckily,
David called our beloved Circus-Circus Hotel and Casino
on a whim. Believe it or not, they had a room. It was at
Circus-Circus nine months ago when Michelle felt the
telltale ache of ovulation. As we stood in the hotel
lobby waiting to register, we knew that we had come full
circle. We were right back at the very same place where
Lilly had been conceived.
"Where’s her mother?"
the flight attendant asked the three of us. She had been
the fifth person to ask us that as we made our way back
to our home in New York. "She’s back home in Arizona," I
said. "Our surrogate mom is back home in Arizona." I’m
getting used to saying it. I’m also getting used to the
puzzled look on the faces.
Settling In
So far, fatherhood has
been amazing. I’ve taken three months off from work to
settle in, and I’m quickly starting to see that it’s
going to go by all too quickly. Every coo and
woo and cry is like music to our ears. Well, almost
every one that is. We’ve had Lilly home for a little
over two weeks, and I can’t help but marvel at what
she’s already been through. From the day after being
born she’s been in two motels, a full-blown casino in
Nevada, flown all the way across country, and endured
three cab rides.
"She’s truly
remarkable," Michelle said during one of our many
e-mails and phone calls since we’ve been home. "Thank
you," Michelle keeps saying. "Thank you for allowing me
into your family and for letting me help you complete
our dreams. I’ve never felt that I contributed to
anything, or had the power to change someone’s life, but
I did. And I feel like a better person for it."
It still
does feel like a dream sometimes. Even at 3 o’clock in
the morning when our new and highly reliable alarm clock
named Lilly goes off. The only thing I wish every now
and then is that she had come with a tiny little snooze
button. It’s been a long 9 months. Some days were filled
with laughter and amazement, while others were some of
the darkest and scariest days I’ve ever had. But I
wouldn’t change any of it for the world. I honestly
wouldn’t have done it any other way. Do I still wonder
if we’ve done the right thing? You bet I do. In fact, it
scares the hell out of me sometimes. But only time and a
lot of love will tell.
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