Day 74: Coming home!

It was a miracle. My husband's amazing cousin Manu shook hands, sweet talked, cajoled and got us two exit VISAS in two hours at the FRRO yesterday! Then we bought plane tickets for late tonight at 2:20am!!! 

I couldn't believe it. Manu had the guys smiling and laughing at jokes. With his lease to prove residency and a copy of her hospital discharge paperwork showing medical issues that  made extra travel problematic, suddenly the road block of the birth state was no more! They actually didn't even bring it up, and Manu said they were very nice men. However the reception guy claimed that because my paperwork wasn't simplified in perfect order and I had extra documents in the stack and some originals instead of copies, that was the reason he had not put me through...which he did not say the previous day at all.  Not very honest, but I've been told to expect as much.

It only took one of the four men we dealt with to provide a roadblock, but with Manu's magic they helped us quickly. They wanted proof of a plane ticket already purchased, but we couldn't do that until the next day when Manu was on a business trip, and we wanted to get it done while he was still there to be a facilitator. However the guy wrote in "ticket confirmed" even when we had no proof!  Manu says this is how Indian Government is, and when you grow up with it you know how to deal with folks to get stuff done. I think if your surrogacy case has any complications like ours did that paying for a facilitator is well worth it, but fortunately we didn't have to because we are related to the miracle man.

This is one hell of a hard way to have a family, but well worth it.

I'm packed and well rested, but have a headache from stressing out about everything that could go wrong and am trying to relax. The final flight home had weighed on my mind from the very first trimester, and I hope that it has been a lot of worry that is mostly unfounded. I wish we had Vinnie with us, but it is just Mom and me working as a team. I may not sleep at all for the next 24-48 hours. But I think about how strong I've been from the years of painful infertility, the year of the police academy while working full time at a stressful job, the trips to Anand and initial failure, then the months of stressful waiting, then finally the scary premature birth and months of NICU and the final journey to Delhi. I'm strong enough to do this one last leg of the journey to bring them home.

Let's hope we get the bassinet seats, so we'll arrive four hours early to the airport. Let's also hope British Airways has the superior customer service to help us through this. I've got to not be so worried about how the babies potential crying will affect other passengers, because there is only so much I can do to prevent it. I'm more worried about their exposure to germs, but the same holds true.

I can't wait to see the joy on the faces of my family meeting their grandchildren for the first time, whom they each played a unique role in helping bring into this world and bring safely home. But most of all I just can't wait to walk in my front door and place them in their beds and take a deep breath and say a prayer of gratitude. I have a son. I have a daughter. I am a mother. I have a family. The biggest dream I ever had for my life has come true, and sharing it with those that I love makes the picture complete.

Day 49: Delhi bound!

Today was a hectic travel day, but with such a big payoff. The nanny made it up to us in the morning by sticking around when she could see how frantic final packing was. It took longer than I'd planned and I was sweating like a pig! She even took the wooden slope risers I'd borrowed from the NICU to prop up the mattresses they sleep on and took them back to save us the trip. Indrajeet showed up on time and I took some last pics of Anand, glad I am NEVER coming back.

As for the long 1 1/2 hour ride to Ahmedabad on the expressway, the babies LOVED it. I knew that they would, but didn't know just how much. Vivek slept so peacefully I wanted to check for breathing but then remembered we have apnea alarms. Even when the road got pretty bumpy including driving over cabbages from a giant truck flipped over that had been full of them they seemed soothed by the bumps. I was quite stressed throughout the airport portions because I don't like them being around that many people who could pass on germs and I was so worried something could go wrong. I was snippy with Mom and felt bad about it. It's a lot of pressure and scary for a new Mom.

Dadima and Vivek on the plane in the row behind me

Tara checking out the aisle seat



Miss Tara prefers the window seat

 The counter lady took her time but finally got us all 4 boarding passes. She got us two rows to ourselves so Mom and I would have plenty of room, and the plane being mostly empty was a big bonus. No extra charge on Indigo for checking 3 bags, and we had the carriers and the baby beds as carry on's as well as Mom's purse and my diaper bag. They ran the carriers through the X-ray machine so Mom and I each carried a baby through the body check portion. Then you get the carriers back but during takeoff and landing they stow them in overhead bins and you have to hold the babies. They loved the plane ride, though Vivek cried a bit. I was so worried about takeoff and landing, but the pacifiers did their magic and the babies' ears popped. Tara would pause briefly and then suck rapidly so it seemed she figured out the formula to ease any ear discomfort. Not a peep or cry out of them due to ear popping, so that eases my mind for the international flight home.

We did two feeds in the air, and fortunately I'd packed many extra bottles ready to mix so that we would be good until about 8pm and could hang out at the Narang household for a while if we wanted to. Once we landed, I changed them on the seat while everyone exited the plane and we were ready to go. Unfortunately we had to board a crowded bus last for the ride to the terminal. At the last minute folks volunteered to give up their seats, but the bus had already started moving and I quickly decided a low center of gravity was the best solution. People stared at me but I didn't care. I planted both babies on the open floor of the bus, got down on my knees in a wide stance, then braced both carriers with my arms. I leaned into every turn and the bus ride was a cinch.

The Delhi airport had a baggage porter who was a huge help to us and I carried both carriers. After a brief wait I spotted Mitlesh Auntie and Mon Uncle. It was a happy greeting for sure, and we all piled into the car for the drive home. They once again LOVED the car ride. I caught Mom comparing my babies to monkeys again when talking to Mitlesh Auntie and we all had a good laugh.

Hanging out on Mon Uncle's bed

Being back in Delhi and walking into the Narang family home was the next best thing to being back in the USA. Tons of wonderful family so happy to see us and oohing and aahing over how cute the babies are. A beautiful meal on the table of the best food I've had since I've been here...with bartha of course. Ironically the cook and helpers names are Tara and Savita! I had not seen Minnie or her son Ujjawal or daughter Shambavi in 9 years, and he is in college now! The only issue was that Madhav had a fever and cough and was sick, so that caused a lot of anxiety for me but this was a temporary and unvoidable stop. He is also hard to control, but everyone teamed up to keep him away from the babies and no one who had touched Madhav (read everyone) touched the babies except cousin Minnie who washed her hands before she helped feed Vivek while I was at our house unpacking and setting things up. I walked back to the house and it only took me 5 minutes! Mitlesh Auntie and Mon Uncle plan to drop by and visit all the time so the babies will be entertaining company and building their fan club.

Back out the Narang house while I left to set up house, the babies hung out. Despite the lovely living area the babies hung out in the same room everyone else does...Mitlesh Auntie and Mon Uncle's bedroom. I placed them side by side on the bed on a sloped pillow, and I'm pretty sure they were looking at each other for a moment or two.

Our new pad is INCREDIBLE!!! I can't believe we are staying somewhere this nice the next few weeks. It is adorable and the family went far overboard in getting it set up for us. They brough Manu's refridgerator from work and that and the pantries they stocked completely! I suspect they may have bought the microwave and brought in a TV. They had cases of bottled water in the kitchen along with bowls and baskets of fruits and vegetables, fresh sheets on the beds, and the place had been cleaned from top to bottom. Here is a video of the lovely home we are staying at, which happens to be across the street from a lovely park.

The evening concluded with a lovely dinner followed by birthday cake for Mon Uncle and everyone gathered around singing. I asked if smashing cake on Mon Uncles face is an Indian custom or tradition. The answer was no, so I guess everyone is just mean. Mom started it.

Flying Solo

So here I sit at the Dallas Fort Worth International airport. It has been a rush getting here and now everything has slowed down while I wait at the gate for two days of traveling. I paid $200 for a bag that was 3 lbs overweight, but every diaper and can of formula counts until my mother in law can arrive with the 2^nd bag full in a month. I pre-paid without complaint and was impressed with myself that my guess that my bag would be just over 50 lbs was deadly accurate. The TSA agent on the Xray machine didn’t blink an eye at my breast pump that I left inside my 2^nd carry on, so I guess that won’t raise eyebrows at Mumbai…..I hope.

I cried loudly enough to attract attention when I said goodbye to my husband, and I think he was trying not to get choked up too. I’m more worried about him than me. I’ve only gone about a week away from him since we’ve been married 8 years ago. Now I’ll go at least 2 months without seeing him!  It is very hard to say goodbye, but I know it is the smart thing to do. His VISA arrived this morning, so that is one thing off the list. I’ve left a critical “Honey Do” list so I’ll have to check in on his progress.  I’ve asked family not to call me at the hotel until the evening time on the 8^th so that all day I can focus on my babies and not missed calls and reporting back status to my family.

My mother-in-law’s wonderful sister Guddi Aunti has gifted us lots of baby clothes, which I can’t wait to see until I got back. Three more gifts were given my last night at work, and though I had frantically finished all the thank you notes from my shower I didn’t have time to get thank you cards to those generous three and I hope that an email will be okay.

A million thoughts and emotions run through my brain as I sip what will be my last Starbucks coffee for some time. I can’t wait to meet my babies. I’m worried about my babies. I’m worried I’m a bad mother because maybe I’m worrying too much about my babies. All indicators tell us that they are doing spectacular but still I fear they are waiting to tell me anything bad until I get there. Stop worrying. Stay positive. Quit thinking about your to do list when you get home and the fact that the nursery is still not painted. Babies don’t care what color the walls are. Quit worrying that there is one critical thing you forgot to pack. I look at the three new pictures of my babies, especially my little girl chilling under the bili-lights, and I follow her example to relax and live in the moment. I still can’t believe I finally am a mother. I have a son and a daughter.  A family of four forever. 

I know I must talk to Dr. Hitesh and Dr. Patel the day I arrive too in order to meet our surrogate (if she is still there and the one providing our breastmilk) and in order to settle payments, but I tell myself that can wait for a few hours and to meet my babies first and take my time.  That reminds me…I forgot to pack Kleenex and I’m going to cry. A lot. 

I read The Premature Baby Book by Dr. Sears at my side, partly because it is the one thing I could not fit in either of my two carry-ons. It is great preparatory reading and so far I’m feeling a little more confident in how I’ll handle myself and knowing what to expect.  I plan on taking the advice to not read the chapters of bad things that can happen unless they actually happen. I read some preemie blogs of 28 weekers and some born sooner at my last night of work, and mostly found encouragement but things that went wrong with some scared me. For the most part it seems like the ones that had problems of some sort it was apparent from birth or there were more delivery complications or they were born sooner or smaller than mine. The fact that mine were never on a ventilator and are now breathing on their own is the biggest reassurance of all. I just hope my little girl gets chunky soon because 2 lbs is pretty tiny and 2 ½ sounds a lot better. Plus I promised my mother at least two chubby rolls on their thighs for her to pinch on.

So here I still sit waiting at the DFW gate. I’m watching the drug dog make a 2^nd pass at my suitcase. I have a bag of fenugreek seed and a bag of fennel seed that look a lot like drugs and have a strong scent, but are just galactologue herbal supplements. Fortunately Rover seems to know the difference. (His actual name is Uno, because I can hear the handler calling his name and telling him “Good boy!”)  For a moment I watch him play with his rubber toy reward with pure elation, and it makes me miss my dog but also be grateful now that I finally know such joy in my own heart too.

I’d decided when I got to Newark I’m using the 3 hour layover to eat a steak. Hopefully it will tide me over enough that I don’t rush out into the street and go after one of the cows that wander loose. Mmmmm….sacred.  

So here I sit at the gate in Newark. It turns out when these Yankees think mighty highly of their steaks and charge twice as much for half the size as I can get in Texas. I have a bleu cheese burger instead, and it ain’t that great. I’m already missing Texas.

It takes me half an hour to get my saree on in the tiny bathroom. I’d forgotten one element of the Gujarati style of wrapping since I’m used to wrapping Punjabi style excepting my trip to Anand a year ago, but it comes to me in a flash after four attempts and I finally get it on.  The saree I had on top of my suitcase didn’t fit because I’d forgotten about the whole lactation thing and my chest is too large. So instead I select a very comfy pink one with a stretchy top. I befriend a young Indian gal who has been stuck at the airport for a day and compliments my saree, and she wishes me luck. Once I freshen up and brush my teeth I realize there is no electrical outlet to use my breast pump. Guess once I get on the plane I’ll turn to the side in my window seat and use the hand pump and hand expression like I did on the first flight.

The main reason I selected the window seat was to allow for some privacy for that purpose. And fortunately being in the last row and seated next to one old lady who didn’t speak English and minded her own business helped that effort. However I love window seats for other reasons. Mainly because you can look out upon the universe with sky and clouds and the magnificence and grandeur of God is overwhelming. It baffles me that everyone else I see has the window closed and is sleeping, reading, or watching the TV they charge you 7.99 to view. I just can’t fathom how you can’t even open your window a crack just once on the flight to see and enjoy the amazing scenery that brings on such a sense of wonder. It makes me ponder miracles, and feel an intense gratitude for the two miracles I’ve been granted.

So here I sit in the Mumbai airport during a 7 hour overnight layover, just like I did a year ago on my first trip to Anand to attempt surrogacy. I am calmer to some degree because the locations and signs are familiar and I am less worried that I’m going to the wrong place and know I have 7 hours to correct any navigational errors. I mostly worry envisioning my mother doing this on her own in a few months and I plan how to explain what to expect to her. The only snags so far are the bus guy pushing me hard for a tip. I don’t feel bad not tipping him because:

1. I can handle my own damn luggage but you wouldn’t let me. I’m stronger than I look.
2. I don’t have anything less than a 500 rupee bill and am not about to ask for change with a line of folks behind me.
3. He didn’t ask anyone else for a tip for picking up a piece of luggage and putting it in the bus directly next to him

The 2^nd snag is that when I go to get my new boarding pass since the one issued in the US must be exchanged for a local one. I also check in my luggage, and a 3 person debate in Hindi ensues for 30 minutes concerning it. Concerned about what is happening I show her a picture of my preemie girl and tell her “sick baby” and point to the bags and say “medical equipment.”  She seems to get the importance of what I’m trying to communicate and assures me the baggage can go but they are just debating what payment is due. I luckily had a printed receipt that I had paid for my overweight and extra bag already, and the think tank pores over and discusses it extensively. But the restrictions on Jet Airways for my connecting flight to Vadodora domestically are different than United that I used to get here, and the real problem becomes my 2^nd carry on. I neglected to research that in advance. My 2^nd carry on is 14 kg and only 7kg is allowed. She sees the look of panic on my face as I consider my options:

1. Dump half my clothes in a garbage can. My two large bags are all baby stuff, and my small carry on is my stuff only. I could always buy more clothes for me here, but baby stuff is harder to come buy.
2. See if I can refund my ticket and take a train or car to Anand. I’d really have to kick my resourcefulness into high gear, but it is an option though it might delay me. I really only considered this option when I thought that the baby luggage might not be allowed to go.

She tells me I can check it instead as a 3^rd bag and pay. I agree to do so. It is almost 3,000 rupees, or around $60. I figured if I’d bought new clothes that is about the same price so I pay willingly with a smile on my face. Kill ‘em with kindness and getting them to pity you is a better way to go here than being a demanding, self-entitled, stereotypical American.  

I get through the security screening at the final gate just fine, though they have to unpack my entire bag because I wasn’t clear than anything and everything metal needed to be separated out into a container. They expect my ignorance due to my overwhelmingly pale and obviously foreign appearance. The saree and mangalsutra necklace only go so far and people find it more charming that I wear them than an effective disguise. He did question my fenugreek seed, but I tell him “fenugreek herbal supplement” and he seems satisfied, thank goodness. If that didn’t work I wasn’t sure where we would go from there because galactologue doesn’t translate well.

I am starting to feel engorged and am now worried because my hand pump lost a part at some point from when I got off the plane that it may not work properly without. I decide to brave the bathroom and hope I can find an outlet with a bit of privacy. I find the working outlet, but have to unplug the hand dryer to do it.  As far as privacy goes, my semi-sheer saree draping across my front will have to do. I am pleased to find that I actually pump enough that it could probably be fed to a baby in a single spoon. This is progress to be proud of at this early stage. About 10 women come and go as I pump, most looking at me curiously. One custodian asks me what I am doing. I just say “breast pump” and point each index finger towards each breast. The look on her face is still confusion but she seems satisfied with that explanation. They probably only use babies or hand pumps for that purpose here, and $2000 electric double breast pumps are not something you see everyday.

I’m not sure how much I slept on the flight to Mumbai but it could have been around 10 solid hours. I slept at least an hour in this waiting room, though I’m not sure how because it was dreadfully uncomfortable. Some coffee wakes me up a bit, and I’m rather sure I’ll find the will and strength to get through an entire day before I sleep again as night falls. The sun will be up in a few hours, and I’m about to have one of the most important and happiest days of my life. It is odd to know that beforehand and have to wait for it consciously.

I read some more of my preemie book to help prepare myself. I know the hardest part of the day will be arriving at the hotel and unpacking and pumping first and forcing myself to wait a few more minutes to meet my children who are but a 2 minute walk away. Who are we kidding? It will be 1 minute cause I’m gonna speed walk. But I want to make sure I’m clean and showered for the NICU so I don’t bring in germs, and I want to organize the baby stuff and bring in a few items I know they need immediately. I plan to write the names on their diapers since I know the Huggies are better for boys and Pampers better for girls. This is the one think Dr. Kothiala did say on the phone I needed to bring, though she probably doesn’t realize I knew that already and have been systematically prepping for months to know in advance what is necessary to bring. I also want to walk in looking like the most prepared mother every to make a good impression upon these nurses I will depend on so heavily. I mustn’t forget to tie my hair back, and will wear something that is easily adapted to Kangaroo care in the hope I can hold them today. Waiting a week until they are more stabilized and developed will hopefully pay off in that respect. 

Happy Birthday! I'm a Mommy!

So I guess I'll do this chronologically:

Yesterday I go on the biggest shopping blitz I've ever been on, and bought everything I knew we had to have for our babies. It calms me down significantly, and I got a good start on what we'll need to pack. Obscene amounts of diapers and wipes, and as of this morning our pediatrician hooked me up with two cases of Preemie formula for free by sweettalking the Enfamil and Similac sales reps!!!  I also had a mom of triplets from my Mothers of Multiples Club hooked me up with 30 coupons for formula. This way every day I can make two trips to two stores since there is one coupon per purchase and I'll save tons of money buying our formula gradually with coupons!

Over the course of the day the level headed and reasonable folks in my life calm me down and talk me into not running off to India as soon as I can book a ticket.

The emotional part of me wants to rip their heads off at even the thought of keeping me away from my babies for one instant. But my brain knows that waiting until the babies stabilize and until we are more prepared is the smart and rational thing to do. Damn. But as my brother pointed out, every mistake I make now affects two people.

The facts are that at 28 weeks I can't touch or hold them, and there is nothing that I can do for them that Dr. Anita Kothalia's NICU is not already doing for them. What I can do is make sure I have everything they need to bring with me, and that our home is ready for when they come back to the U.S. I can force myself to go back to work for one week to save up my paid leave time for when I can actually do something. Airfare before August 6th is nearly double the price, and with NICU fees not covered by insurance possibly we are on a tight budget. And as a bonus, I can also have my baby shower! 

The hubby will not travel with me. This journey will have to be alone for the first part, unfortunately. We both know I'm strong enough to handle it. As much as I would like to be surrounded by family, you won't hear me crying about anything not happening like I wanted it to. I have two babies that are alive and should be just fine. NOTHING else matters. I'm strongly considering slapping icing on my baby shower cake I was making and putting a picture of the frosted fantasy piece it would have been next to it. I have better ways to spend my time right now.

The fact is that my husband only has 1 month of paid leave, and he NEEDS to be there for the embassy appointment once they are released from NICU. So he may join me a month later...about a week or two from their NICU release date. He couldn't travel with me anyway due to a lack of foresight with his VISA, so he will reapply for another in my absence and do some final preparations like installing the car seats and such. 

So last night after making this decision we call Dr. Patel. It takes a few tries, but when we get her on the line for a very brief conversation she answers my 4 questions:

1. Is it a complete rupture or slow leak, and how much time does that give us? Almost complete rupture, and will deliver Sunday or Monday. She will check up on her today, but she was having some pain. (That tells me she is probably in labor which means delivery will be sooner)

2. Have they been given steroids and antibiotics already to prepare for birth? Yes. (Big duh because this is standard practice, but I needed to hear it to ease my mind. Thank you Dr. Patel for not sounding annoyed at my question.)

3. Can you make sure that my babies have breast milk? We will pay whatever we need to. Yes.

4. Is there anything else we need to know. Not really.

The conversation was over quickly after that.

This morning I wake up to an email that says:

Dear Emily,

Hello,

Congratulations!!

Manju delivered a baby Boy and a Baby Girl. Normal delivey.  Both Manju and babies are fine. Babies with Neonatal Unit. Neonatologist Dr. Anita  cell no +91 982240 27897
Dr. Anita email a_kothiala@yahoo.co.in

Picture attached

My feelings upon reading the email were shock and joy and amazement. Then more shock. I actually missed that there were pictures at first. I have a boy. I have a girl. A son and a daughter. One of each. Everything I ever dreamed of. Tara Shakti and Vivek Arjun! I am so full of happiness, but definitely still in a state of shock. I guess you always picture the moment going differently when you find out this information, but I am about living in the moment and enjoying what it is rather than putting conventional expectations on such an extreme situation.

When I go to wake my very groggy husband, he is so sleepy he has a sense of deja vu that I woke him up last night and already told him they were born. That never happened. I help him wake up and then blurt out he has a son and daughter. He looks overwhelmed and doesn't say much. I show him pictures, and then have to leave to get to my Dr. appt to get my travel immunizations.  He had some time to absorb before he called his parents. I called my parents on the way to the Dr appt.

As far as the pictures go, I stare at them endlessly. I just can't get over those huge mouths and perfect, perfect lips! My children appear to be in ziploc baggies, which initially alarms me. I just found out from my sister in law that this is normal and keeps them warm and helps prevent their nervous systems from reaction to touching.

They are quite messy and a little smushed from delivery, but I can see through all of that and they are the most beautiful things I have ever seen!

So the plan for today is to finish more home preparations, and tomorrow my mother and I are taking my brother up on his offer to return to Austin and meet my nieces. My mother will get more time with her grandchildren, and I will get books and invaluable advice on the NICU.

Monday through Sunday I will go back to work. Blah. But in my off time I will frantically finish preparations! The nursery is only half painted, and I only have boy clothes and two girl outfits!

In the meantime I've made dozens of phone calls and sent dozens of emails, posted pics and the announcement on Facebook, and coordinated the news with my workplace.Announcements and pics are sent out on my baby shower Evite too! I emailed the babies names to Dr. Patel and asked for birth weights, and to please start the birth certificate process.

I plan as much as possible to continue this blog and paint a picture for the many who will be making journeys to the NICU long after I am gone. I sure wish I knew what to expect, but at least maybe I can help others.