The 4th transfer came and went, I even stopped recording my feelings as I was in such a dark place that I couldn’t even look at myself. I thought for sure the universe didn’t want me to be a father. I started thinking that maybe my life a single man wasn’t so bad; I can travel when I want, I have a beautiful loft in the city, I have a niece and nephew that I love, my disposable income would be spent on myself, I can continue to buy myself Louis Vuitton and Gucci. I desperately tried to see the positive in it. I thought hey, now that I’m moving back to Toronto, maybe my chances of adoption would be greater, or maybe I can foster.
My poor dad. He was livid, feeling powerless. He didn’t understand why she was getting pregnant. He would yell out solutions that he thought the clinic should do. Why don’t they use the same women all the time? He would say. You see with my clinic every-time they did an embryo transfer the surrogate was a different woman. They have to prepare the woman for pregnancy and that is a long process. They have to make her body think that it is pregnant so when they transfer the embryos, the womb is ready to take it. I explained to my dad that I am sure the clinic know what they are doing. With hundreds of successful pregnancies, they know what they are doing!
So then I receive an email from my coordinator, saying that at this point I probably should choose a different donor. That quite possibly my semen and the egg I choose were not compatible. I was initially torn between 2 egg donors, so without much thought, I sent them the file of the next donor. Then I stopped thinking about it. I’m a pretty obsessive person. I know exactly when they would do the transfers when they would test the BETA levels, I even had a calendar with the projected due date and projected ultrasounds. That was a big mistake because every time I had to erase the baby’s due date it was like a dagger going into my heart. So for the 5th transfer, I let it go. I went back to Bahrain to close up shop and focused on what I needed to do. And low and behold this brings us to my first blog entry “Holy Shit! I’m going to be a dad!”
