Surrogacy

April 16th, 2010

I performed the wedding ceremony at my youngest sister’s wedding a few years ago. Another sister volunteered to to be a surrogate mother for my wife and I, modern science will let her carry our baby. I was tempted just so I could start a story with the line, “I married my sister, but my other sister had my baby.”

Despite multiple tries my wife and I have failed to have a baby with In Vitro Fertilization (IVF). Our doctor let us know we might have better success if a surrogate carried our embryos. Two of our sisters volunteered for the job. They offered before being asked, and without reservation, which says a lot about both of them. “If you don’t have reservations, you haven’t thought hard enough about it.” That was my reaction.

So, we all thought about it, a lot. And, if you haven’t thought about your sibling having your baby, which, why would you, I’ll tell you a few things you hadn’t thought about. Here are the Pros and Cons.

First, the Pros. There is one. Our sisters love us a lot. Enough to go through pregnancy and then give us a baby. We all think that would be an amazing result. That’s it though. Not much else in that column. It’s a big one, but still, there are a number of sizeable entries under Cons.

To begin, we have to choose one of our sisters to seriously ask. Two sisters volunteered. Who do we put at the top of the list? The youngest makes the most sense, which is a tough way to start; having to tell the older sister that her uterus is the B team.

People die in childbirth! What happens if something goes wrong? Okay, so dying during childbirth is highly unlikely. I can get my head around that. But, miscarriage is not. It’s just as likely as delivering a baby. The odds of miscarriage are about 50 percent in these circumstances. So, the odds are against my sister getting pregnant, but even if she does, it’s still a coin flip as to whether she will wake up in the middle of the night bleeding, and have to follow that with a doctor’s visit and a phone call to tell us she’s lost the baby. Huge Con.

That joke I told about my sister having my baby, I’d get a kick out of telling it three times, but that would be enough. Well, this isn’t the fifties, you don’t sneak off to have a baby if the circumstances make people uncomfortable. So, my wife and I are going to have to tell that story a lot, but not nearly as much as my sister and brother. This is an intimate personal decision you must get comfortable sharing with the world. If you know four adults that can do that without any awkwardness, you’re not normal. Seriously, good for you, but that’s unusual.

More than one person has advised, “You are not asking, she’s volunteering.” Which is a cop out. Asking someone to do something, and allowing them to volunteer, are the same moral ground. Our sisters have demanding lives of their own. Asking one of them to do all of that, and be pregnant with a baby she doesn’t get to keep, is huge. It’s bigger than that even. It’s a favor large enough to make me sea sick.

I like my brother-in-law. He is an excellent drinking buddy. And in my ranking system for beings, Drinking Buddy is up on the podium with Sister, Dog, and Wife. I know from our tries at IVF that the process is difficult on relationships, and there are a lot of them at stake here. Wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, not to mention a baby, all wrapped up in this decision. It’s a lot at risk.

We decided against surrogacy. It was too much. But, it could have gone the other way. There is a temptation, to both give and accept a gift of that magnitude. I could see how it’s something you might do.

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A Wake

April 6th, 2010

I had never been to a wake. A couple of funerals. Not a fan. I liked the wake though.

I only met John a few years before he was diagnosed with cancer. My wife met his girl, Janet, in Vegas, where they became fast friends, and this was quickly followed by a legendary ski weekend. We shared a condo with John, Janet, and six of their buddies, each one cooler than the next. If you can judge anything by someone’s friends, John is missed and admired by a bunch of people I enjoy. Like the big dude everyone calls by his last name. I didn’t know many people at the wake, but I was confident I could pick him out of a crowd. About 6′5″, positively menacing looking, like he could eat nails, but the most affable and likable guy. He was wearing a black toque from Hugo Boss, pulled low over his eyes, that John had donated to him. He chuckled as he adjusted it, “Who else but John would buy an $80 toque.” I laughed a lot at all the stories people shared with me, and learned about John, like he was known to be a snappy dresser, as well as generous and unassuming.

Janet gave a great speech that was both touching and funny, and then we started to toast the man. I got messy drunk, shots were involved. And I had fun, which would please him.

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Nothing In Particular

March 26th, 2010

Cash exchanged for Teen

Cash, the Labrador we were babysitting, is home now. His family is back from their travels. I miss him, but Michelle doesn’t, he’s big and hairy and he drools. Their return also brought our 19 year old niece back to live with us. She has big shoes to fill, but she’s got that drooling thing mostly handled, so that’s in her favour.

Cash

Maglite

On a related note, every house should have a good flashlight as part of it’s standard equipment. A friend asked me if I carried a weapon after I was mugged. I don’t, but I definitely had it in mind when I bought this flashlight to walk the dog with. It is well designed and manufactured, and the tooled aluminum casing with three D batteries in it, makes a good truncheon. The blinding light, followed by this thing crashing into a nose, would stop a linebacker. It is definitely confidence building.

For your commute

I recommended This American Life awhile ago. Here is a couple other podcasts I like, in case you are interested.

The Moth – features stories recorded live at one of the events held by this New York based story telling organization. A new story every week, around fifteen minutes long, always good, sometimes great.

Radiolab – Big questions on science, philosophy, and the human experience are investigated. It’s an imaginative and interesting show.

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TRX Trainer

March 19th, 2010

It’s beautiful here. I wanted a workout that would take advantage of that. I think I’ve found a key component.

A friend brought me along to a class at her gym. I enjoyed it so much, and figured the equipment would make a great outdoor gym, so I bought a TRX training package. I jog out to one of a couple of beautiful spots I’ve found, set up my gym, and do the workout from the military DVD. I’m loving it. It’s my new cult. It doesn’t hurt that this is a picture of one of my spots.

I suck at Photoshop, so you can see the lines in this Panorama, but still, my gym has a stone bridge and a fountain in it.

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A Whisper

March 12th, 2010

I did not get caught. I did not become addicted. I did not kill a boy. Circumstance and luck are more responsible than destiny or good judgement. Less separates us than we believe. I did not kill a boy, but I might have.

Four masked individuals approached my friend and I on Halloween night in the quiet park where I usually walked my dog. Their slight stature and tone of voice gave them away as teenagers. They asked for our wallets. We thought it was a joke, and dismissed them.

One of the boys had a can of pepper spray, the big silver ones used to ward off bears. The liquid hit me and I lunged towards the kid holding it. I covered the distance in two steps and grabbed him, but by then I knew I was in trouble. Even a mist of pepper spray burns your skin and eyes. It hit me full in the face and I was already blind.

Grappling on the ground with my eyes squeezed shut, it felt like I was fighting for my life. I found that boy’s throat, put my fingers on either side of his windpipe, and squeezed as hard as I could.

I don’t know what happened next. I received many blows to the head that evening, and I believe the first one happened in that moment. I heard the sounds of him struggling in vain for air, and then my memories end, everything goes black.

At the time, there was no contemplation in what I did. Choking him was a conclusion reached like stepping stones across a small stretch of water, spaced apart so you have to take them in a series of running leaps, each one the inevitable continuation of a movement already started. Place the stones differently and I would have made those leaps instead. Change one thing and I would have ended in a different place.

The friend I was with that night is a solid Scottish fellow. If I was to fight him, I would receive a whooping. So, when I realized I was in trouble, I didn’t worry about him, he could handle himself.

My wife was out of town, but normally I would have been in the park with her that night. I would have been with my petite wife, and not my brawny friend. I had my fingers buried in the vitality of that boy, a spot full of air and blood. If I had heard my love calling out to me in that moment, even just a whisper, instead of taking the time to choke him into unconsciousness, I might have made different leaps. I might have ripped that boy’s throat out.

Empathy is the recognition of your humanity in another. I now better understand how little separates me from the criminal, the addict, the killer. I have let go of the notion that I am me, and you are you, and the gap between us is inevitable. Less separates us than we believe. The difference is often as small as a whisper.

I’ve already written about this, but am revisiting it for a few reasons:

  1. I entered another speech competition and this makes for great dramatic subject matter.
  2. I was talking with a Vice Principal friend of mine about speeches to high school students and this is part of a longer term project to develop something. I’m thinking I can use this one event to talk about empathy, choices, and character. I thought it would be a good challenge.
  3. The real inspiration for writing this came while listening to an episode of This American Life (Devil On My Shoulder) in which a man describes the murder he was convicted of, not as a series of decisions that resulted in an action, but more as an event he got swept up into. It sounded familiar to me, and the man’s story affected me.
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Officer Michelle

March 5th, 2010

I’m setting up a company. There’s been progress on the whole search for the dream job thing, that’s not what this is about though.

“The lawyer asked about setting up corporate officers.”

“I’m the officer. Officer Michelle. I’m in charge.”

“Then I think we should get you a uniform.”

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Celebrity Photographs

March 1st, 2010

I’ve not met my weekly publishing schedule lately. I haven’t had much time.

I went to Disneyland with my sisters. We got pictures with Mickey, Minnie, Cruella, Chip, Dale, Goofy, and Mulan. Nicolas Cage sat beside us for brunch at Goofy’s kitchen, which triggered a lengthy discussion about the overtly polite Canadian culture, a resolution that autographs are silly, and a too long debate on the relative merits of getting a photograph with a famous person. In the end we decided that the best story would result from asking Nick Cage to take a picture of the four of us with Goofy. By the time we came up with this plan our opportunity to enact it was two hours in the past. We had fun. I giggled like a little kid for almost an entire day.

My country can skate around a sheet of ice and shoot a hard rubber disk into a net better than any other. That made yesterday awesome. I’m not sure why that is, but it’s true. There was a spontaneous orgy of dancing and hollering so large that the police closed the street to contain the party.

in the streets

In Victoria

In Vancouver

My wife watched the game in Vancouver while I was in Victoria. She met Wayne Gretzky. If we were to re-enact that Friends episode and make a list of five celebrities we could sleep with, I know Wayne would be on her list. So, it was a bit of a relief that she (struck out) decided to catch the ferry home.

In honor of our victory, here are some Canadian stereotype comics.

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Joe Cocker

February 17th, 2010

I grew up Country. I got “The Year That Claton Delaney Died” (Tom T Hall), and “Lord I Hope This Day Is Good” (Don Williams). I had no older siblings to expose me to anything, so 80’s hair metal and the birth of MTV hit hard in my formative years. On the plus side, I’m still discovering things that somehow passed me by, songs that look/sound like they are tearing a hole to get out. Look at me with my finger on the pulse! I’ve discovered the latest greatest thing from 1970. This is why I could have used an older brother, instead I have three sisters and I’m sensitive, which just leads to a music collection sponsored by Lillith Fair. It’s a tragedy.

I also feel like I was born 15 years late. The 70’s retained the coolness of the 60’s, along with an aversion to bras, but ditched the social conscience. It looks like a great party.

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Biology

February 12th, 2010

I am not strikingly handsome or a member of Mensa. I will never set a world record or make a scientific breakthrough. I’m not special, and except to me, my wife isn’t either. A baby isn’t any more likely to be extraordinary because the two of us made it. So, is biology important at all?

In many ways, no, biology doesn’t matter. I’m confident I would love a child that’s mine, regardless of their DNA. That’s not the whole story though. Biology isn’t everything, but then again, it’s not nothing. There are definite advantages to creating a baby with your own genetics, both practical and emotional.

Having a child is scary. When you are considering jumping off that precipice, biology at least feels like something you can cling to in a sea of lurking unknown. I can’t know someone else’s medical and family history, proclivities, talents, weaknesses, and afflictions as well as my own. And, while I know my wife less well than myself, you know, we’re pretty tight. There is an element of becoming a parent that’s a gamble, but there is comfort in rolling your own dice.

You don’t have to qualify to have a child of your own. No interviews, social workers, reference letters, lawyers, counsellors, mandatory classes, support groups, criminal record checks, or doctor’s reports. You can argue that the process of qualifying to be a parent is both a good, and in the case of adoption, a necessary thing. I would agree, but the fact of the matter is, it is stressful to be examined with such intensity, and then to put yourself up for scrutiny by mothers, boyfriends, families, and government agencies.

When the woman you love tells you she doesn’t just want to have a baby, she wants to have your baby, that’s visceral. The desire to see your lover’s face reflected in your child is primal. Biology has gravity, there is a pull to it.

DNA, of course, does have concrete influences. Our kid has about a 75% chance of having brown hair and eyes. Who cares? Not us, but that’s not my point. My child would inherit some of my traits, and it is nice to think that they might benefit from some of my better ones. Maybe procreation is the ultimate act of narcissism, I don’t know, but I get the attraction. Biology isn’t everything, but it’s not nothing.

Next week something other than baby stuff I think. I’m trying to write a speech about Empathy for a Toastmasters competition. I’m struggling to find some way to lighten it up a little, the premise is that I could have easily been a killer. Oh, I know right, the laughs keep on coming.

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Choices

February 5th, 2010

There is an interesting talk on TED dealing with how too many options have a negative impact on happiness. It’s more difficult to select a salad dressing when you have a vast array available at your local supermarket. With all those options your expectations are extremely high, and when your choice fails to be perfect, there’s the nagging suspicion that you could have done better, so you are less likely to be happy with your choice. We had a meeting with our fertility doctor yesterday, and I’m feeling like I understand that better.

We could try IVF again. The doctor is surprised / concerned we have not yet been successful, but there is no outstanding reason to wave us off another attempt.

We could try a donor egg. The age of M’s eggs is a factor, and none have successfully implanted. The doc thinks this is our best chance to get M pregnant.

We could try donor sperm. The advantage here is this is a less complicated / expensive procedure, and we could take a few tries at it.

We could do IVF with a surrogate (with or without implanting M at the same time). This increases our chances, but clearly adds complexity, and affects other people’s lives.

We could give up fertility treatments and carry through with the adoption process we have started. This opens up a whole new series of choices: age, race, nationality.

Each choice has different benefits, risks, costs, success rates, and schedules. On top of all that are some serious and hard to answer personal questions about what having a child is all about, what is important, how badly does M want to be pregnant, and how do we feel about biology. We will have to make a choice from all those options, and it’s a decision with a lot of variables. It’s overwhelming. It really is. I have less of an idea about what we should do than I did before the meeting.

If you got pregnant by sharing a bottle of wine and an orgasm. Nice work. I’m envious.

The paradox of choice – TED

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Autism Diagnosis

February 1st, 2010

My sister wrote an article about diagnosing autism. I would recommend the read. It’s great, and maybe important.

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iPad

January 29th, 2010

I’m a geek. I love technology and design, and an electronic book reader sounds like a cool idea. Here’s the thing though.

Revolutionary Paper and Ink Technology. Read in the tub! Read by direct and blinding sunlight. Read by candlelight.

Unlimited Battery Life. No car adapter, no plug-ins, no power requirements at all.

Sustainable. Made with 100% non-toxic renewable materials. Completely recyclable.

Portable. Fits in your carry-on, and no pesky security checks.

Affordable. Leave it sitting on your beach towel while you swim. Forget it at the hotel, on the bus, or lend it to a friend and never get it back. Good for any budget.

Almost indestructible. Impervious to sand and dust. No ports, components, or screens to clog or malfunction. Leave it in a hot car. Bend it in half. Run over it with your car. Throw it at the pavement with all your strength.

Lifetime Upgrades! You can’t find a floppy drive to open a WordPerfect file from twenty years ago, and if you do, software will fail to open the file, or render it unreadable. Our revolutionary technology opens after hundreds of years just as easily as day one.

Books. The oldest, greatest thing!

The geek in me is always tempted by new technology, but eBooks have so many inherent flaws. In many important ways, they are entirely inferior to a $2.50 dog eared paperback.

On the other hand, my sister is giddy with excitement because this $500 technology will significantly improve the life of my autistic nephew. Other touch screen technology developed specifically to assist autistic kids with communicating run upwards of $10,000. She says this $200 app and an iPad beat them all.

Soldier stories, movies, and technology reviews!? I’ll eventually get back to obsessing over fertility, adoption, and kids, for those interested in such things.

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