I don’t have a womb. There was a brief moment in science when I was 30 when there was talk of a man carrying a child. At least I would be one step closer.
I get broody. yes, as a teacher, well it is obvious. However, there was a moment, a clear moment, when I was not just broody anymore. I was ready for a child. it is funny in reflection. The obviousness of it and the difference. My thoughts are not ‘oh, wouldn’t it be lovely” – they are “I am going to have a child.”
So back to no womb.
For two years I have been seriously talking with friends, especially Heeten, Jill and Kerry Anne about adoption. The answer came back loud and clear : “a single man will never adopt a child.” Now this may, or may not be true, but like the non-womb, my reaction was to sigh and give up.
Then one Wednesday morning, late (as usual), lost (from my gun-ho don’t need a map attitude), I found myself sitting in the stylish meeting room of a lady called Jenny.
The meeting was a blurr for me. I was so still in an attempt to brace myself for the bad news. Jenny was clear and beautifully methodical. She was calm, serious and businesslike – just what I wanted. She spoke for about 30 minutes outlining the process, the payments, the procedures, the problems and then she paused and asked if I had any questions.
I looked up and I had to ask –

“Is it possible?”

Jenny paused again, a little quizzical. She had, after all, detailed everything for me a minute ago. “I mean,” I elaborated, “Can this actually happen. Are you saying that there is a way for me to have my own child?”
“Gavin, it is not only possible, but you are the norm. You are the exact profile of my most common and successful clients. Yes, it is certainly possible.”
The norm. Normal. Now there is something I have never been called before. And for the first time in my life, I am so happy to be just that.

I awoke with clarity. the word was so loud and clear in my head that instead of a groggy, slow start to my morning, I almost leapt, opened my laptop and googled it.

Surrogate.

It seems such a simple word and indeed it is not uncommon in the English language. Yet it has evaded me. Well, perhaps, its implications have evaded me, for years.

When I did sit down in front of laptop (of course I did not leap, I never leap) I found a site. It was red and yellow and had words, garish at first view, like ‘egg donor’, ‘birth mother’ and yes, ‘surrogate’. Then I saw it… ‘contact us’.

I almost closed the site. I suddenly felt powerless and that this was not allowed for me (issues…). Too frightened to continue. Then I took a breath, touched my broody centre and clicked it.

“what is your name?” -easy
“what is your contact information?” – okay.
“what is your profile?” – que?

What do they mean by profile? – “tall dark and handsome”, “desperate, have no womb”, “know will make wonderful parent, want a baby”???

So, I stared at the screen, wondering, will my answer effect my chances? If I give away any information, will it count against me and block this opportunity? What do they want me to say here?”.

I entered “Work in education. live in Johannesburg.”

hmmmm. that’s all.

“send”.

Reply: “hi Gavin, great to hear from you. Let’s meet.”

Calendar reminder says: “Wednesday @ 11am – baby.”

Right. I guess I am on the journey. It has begun.