Destination to: Not Settling for Less

Lately, I've been feeling like getting on a plane and coming home.  But when I replay the scene in my head it always ends at the airport arrival gate, at the glass double doors, when I realize there’s no place to go ‘home’ anymore.  The beautiful, bachelor pad apartment with the great city life in Stamford, Connecticut, minutes away from Cove Beach and downtown trendy shops was already rented out, and all of our furniture had been dispersed among our friends.  And whatever we had to show for our life was crammed into an 8 x 10 storage unit. Just stuff.  Boxed up. That was the life we packed up, and days later we flew to India, to live at my husband’s (we’re estranged now, but still married) family’s home in the city of Hyderabad for the duration of the surrogacy.  (Yes, surrogacy—I will explain more in blogs to come!)

Deciding to stay in India from a financial standpoint was/is still by far the most beneficial and sensible move on my part, but I feel Ari is missing out on so many of the American traditional holiday "firsts".  And of course, it’s emphasized more when I see everyone’s holiday photographs on Facebook.  I feel I'm inhibiting her developing relationships with those that have been near and dear to me since I can remember. And I don’t think it’s crazy to wish she was fussed over more by those people.  As I see her progression in her 10th month, now that she actually knows how she wants to be entertained and by whom, I’m not convinced I’m allowing her to experience all the things a child her age should. And that’s difficult to do when you live in a place where being mobile is a huge obstacle and safety is persistently an issue—not to mention hanging above my head the constant reminder of having to do it on my own.

The old me would’ve acted emotionally, and flown home, without thinking ahead.  And temporary happiness would ensue by ‘running’ home and most likely insanity and inconvenience to others also, as my short visit home in August proved.  And that trip threaded together all the loose ends that ultimately became the deciding factor for me to continue living in India with Ari. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to give Ariyana’s father a chance to meet and bond with his daughter, since he left for the states a month before she was born, and to introduce her to my immediate family—my father, my brother and his wife, who is also one of my best friends, and people I had grown up with. And it was tough to return home, as a visitor, living in hotel without having my own place, without a vehicle, having to depend on friends to get around. 

I know everyone "takes us in" as family, and that's what I love about people back home, but I so wanted to make my own family, (and I think everyone has this desire, and they are kidding themselves if they say they don't!) since my biological one was, well, not exactly a Rockefeller family portrait.  And I think that's what the root of anger/pain comes from, because before going into this—the surrogacy—on the airplane, the day we left for India to expand our 2-family/3-pet household, I voiced, more than wanting a better life (big house/more money) and a better relationship with my husband, to make sure we three (or four) were a "real" family that spent time together (and wanted to) and were involved actively in each other's lives, most importantly were a TEAM, a united front, as ONE in the child's life.  So, you can just imagine the devastation when I realized I was going to be alone for the long haul.

Why hadn’t I forced myself to dissect the relationship I had with my husband before plunging head first to have this baby? Seemed to be the question of the hour. To be honest, I was convinced we were past all the insecurities, and finally after 11 years were settling into each other as spouses and wanted to be devoted to building a strong family.  For whatever its worth, maybe we were both plain scared, but I was/am the one who eventually opened the door, timidly I agree, and shook fear’s hand when I decided that I would raise this baby, even if I had to do it alone.

It struck me like a wrecking ball. The similarities were significant. I didn’t want this—I wanted the complete opposite of what my parents had, what my mother verbally regretted having, what I had always witnessed, and what I feared the most was  confessing of an unhappy life days before I died, like my mother did. And I seemed to be living my mother’s life; allowing the gaping distance between me and my husband, our separate, non-communicative, unaffectionate lives.  And I reacted, flaring ultimatums, and maybe it was wrong, but I felt the need to test him, and in my eyes he failed, or rather his reaction/answer wasn’t what I wanted to see/hear.

Was I craving an unreasonable Brady Bunch or Cleaver-style closeness that was only functional with fictional characters and a poignant script? Had I expected too much of him?  I don’t know, but I do feel he backed out on his promise to deliver the security and support of a family unit, and I remember him reassuring me on the flight over.  Maybe it's not entirely his fault. Maybe he just didn’t know any better. There are always so many ‘maybes’. 

I wanted Sunday morning pancakes, even if it would always be only the three of us—me, baby and him—at the table. I wanted us to both feel a genuine joy of being in that moment, not pressured to be there as a chore, like I remembered my father grabbing bites or inhaling his meal and scurrying back to his home-office. I wanted family nights, spent playing with our daughter aimlessly, and imagined she would crawl and jump on the bed, in the middle of us (but that couldn’t happen if we weren’t sleeping in the same bed, and we rarely did). I wanted more communication and affection to teach the child differently than what I remembered of my parents. Yes, my mother was affectionate, and it hurt me to see that her affection was never reciprocated by my father. In fact, it was the same scenario as living with my husband.  There were many times I asked my husband to make sure we all sat at the dinner table instead of eating at separate times, or in front of the TV. And the answer I always received was, "Stop controlling me." I wanted us to take the child for walks in the stroller, like I see so many couples do, even here in India. I wanted time well spent with each other as a family.

And none of the above I realized was ever going to happen. It would never happen, especially if a parent, a father, couldn't/wouldn’t get his act together, even with a force so powerful to change as having a baby. He needed to get into husband/father mode and quickly, and find a sound career where he could earn a decent income and one that a child could respect and emulate.  But what made me end the limbo dance was that he never made any attempt to convince my fears were imaginary, which made them real as the baby that was born. 

So I am battling my own do-and-act-now-and-deal-with-it-later attitude and choosing to focus on a more fruitful game plan, which I unequivocally trust will allow me to give her beyond the stable lifestyle she so deserves. I won’t lie; it certainly takes constant self-reassurance.  Staying here is justifiable, away from everyone, and I’ve no choice but to concentrate on the benefits. This strategy of mine allows me to work here, writing for local publications, as well as freelancing at many others, make and save money, while eliminating the worries of paying rent, because this is my husband’s family’s home, plus I don’t need to fork over $1500 (on average the fee in the states) a month for daycare, because my nanny/maid only costs me a mere $20 a month!  And health insurance is not a concern here; as long as I have the cash to cover the charges, medical care and treatment have never been refused or denied, and she or I can be admitted to any medical facility of our choice.  And while this may seem a knee-jerk “strategy” to some, it’s far better than working under corporate rule for pennies, where I'm not benefiting or using my writing talent to the best of my creative ability to make my living, or a chance to live an experienced and enjoyable life.

I decided I didn't want to travel the path of  "settling for less", so I must step one foot in front of the other. Because when you’re on a journey together, and one does everything to miss jumping on the family train, and chooses a different route, why continue dragging on the monotony? Isn’t it best to agree and accept there are obviously two different destinations in mind, and at least travel the journey alone (or if you’re lucky, with someone else who wants to travel on the same path), but maybe happier without a less enthused passenger?   

The possibilities are endless and as the trains of life travel to different tracks, we need to stay optimistic, because we'll always have the option to stop and allow those who want to join our journey, as long as it doesn't compromise ours.