Thursday, July 10, 2008


My name is Amani. That's not my real name, rather an old dance name, that I am more comfortable using on a public website. My husband is Bob. That is his real name. Bob and I are both 41 (and a half). I am the older partner being born 51 days days before Bob. Bob's birthday is 25 December. He thinks he is the Messiah. He's really just a very naughty boy.

Bob and I have been together for three years now. We met face-to-face on June 12, 2005, when Bob's previous marriage and health was so eroded that I feared for his life. With love and care from his mum and I, Bob returned to health. Exactly 12 months later - on June 12, 2006 - we became engaged. We planned to marry on June 12, 2007, but I forgot to lodge the necessary notification papers with our city's registry office, so June 18 we were married. We have just celebrated our first wedding anniversary.

So why am I writing a blog about surrogacy? Hmm. No-one just wakes up one morning and says, "I think I'll get a surrogate to carry my baby for me" - much less"I'll get myself a surrogate from India!!!"  Making this decision has been a long and hard road for both of us, perhaps more so me than Bob, because he doesn't have to take the IVF meds, get stuck with needles every days for ten days per month, or have multiple people stick things inside your body at the most intimate site. He's not the one who sneaks all those home pregnancy tests that ultimately only ever show that one solitary line of failure, regardless of how one convinces themselves that the breast tenderness and abdominal cramping is finally a pregnancy!

Though Bob does understand loss. For this I am grateful, though I would never have wished this situation on him or anyone. His ex-wife stole one of his children. He lost his eldest boy to parental alienation. As it turned out, the boy was never biologically his. She told the boy, he and the mother demanded a DNA test - and that was it.  The father was not the bio father, but was, in every sense of the word, the child's father for 11 years. So he went the mother's way and we have not seen him for more than two years. Fortunately, the younger boy loves his dad and we see him regularly. Our hope is that he will come to live with us full-time when he is old enough to make that decision for himself. And we still have room in our house and in our hearts for the older boy to return, if and when, he is old enough to make that decision. To date there is no word, but when he is ready, he will realise we never forgot him. We are extending our home from two to five bedrooms, to accommodate him, his brother, and our own  - as yet - unborn children. (I want two).

This is a small wrap-up of the past three years. The infertility story goes way back.

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