We started seriously looking into surrogacy right around the time that we were married. We had been dating for seven years and we were approaching thirty. A year earlier I had inherited a piece of saleable property from my Grandfather. The time seemed right.

At that point, there were two major, national organizations that catered to gay men who wanted to have children through surrogacy (there are now more than this, although the agencies vary in size and scope). We’ll call them Company A and Company B. We requested information from both of them.

Both of the organizations had glossy brochures. Company A included a DVD that we never watched. Both places included paperwork we needed to fill out if we wanted to have a customized presentation. Neither of the agencies worked exclusively with gay couples, but one of them had a questionnaire that was clearly not designed for this program and was more tailored to their work with infertile heterosexuals. It included questions like, “Is the semen usually deposited in the vagina?” 

Um, no. There isn’t a vagina within 100 feet of the semen.

Although we returned questionnaires to both organizations, we only set up a consultation with the agency that had no interest in whether or not I have regular menstrual cycles. It helped that they had a representative in Wellesley, just down the street from what would become the Pinkberry where I now spend way too much time.

We met with a nice, quiet man, probably in his early forties, who had used Company A to have a child with his husband four years earlier. He made it a point to say that although he was paid for these consultations he was not an employee of Company A (I guess that means that at the end of the year they give him a 1099 instead of a W-2; other than that I can’t really see a distinction). We had a lovely conversation about our desire to become parents and his experience with surrogacy. We were impressed by the level of screening Company A put both potential surrogates and egg donors through. He walked us through the timeline and the medical procedures and the cost. Because the brochures had come with cost estimates, we did not fall out of our chairs when he announced the price.

We left feeling excited. We thought that we would be fathers in 18 to 24 months, possibly before our thirtieth birthdays. We talked about Company A in the car on the way home and were in complete agreement that we would sign a contract with them as soon as possible.

Company A (as well as the organization we are currently in contract with, which is not Company A) requires that all of the costs be deposited in a trust account before the process can begin. That is to ensure that if the intended parents suffer financial hardships during the pregnancy, everyone will still get paid. You can’t repossess a child like you can a beach house. So we couldn’t sign a contract right away, but we decided that we would as soon as we could sell that piece of property that I inherited from my Grandfather.

Well, it’s five years later and that damn piece of property still sits on the market unpurchased. Company A got my hopes up a few years ago by offering a financing program. I excitedly emailed our contact there to find out the details. They said that they would finance 80% of the price at a rate of 12%. That seemed steep, but we were willing to go with it. Then I read the term of the loan: 1 year. As a financial professional I cannot think of a single person to whom that loan would appeal. Perhaps someone with a lot of money in short-term bonds. 

I fired back a terse reply: “Please let me know if a longer term becomes available.”  I don’t think I even included a “Regards” or “Sincerely” in closing. 

 And so, we waited. During this time we reconsidered adoption, but decided to keep waiting for a few more years. I re-evaluated what I consider to be a good age to have one’s first child. Alberto would want me to point out that we also continued to live our lives. We took trips and went dancing and spent a lot of time with friends. We extended our youth. 

But I don’t think it’s overdoing it to say that mostly we waited.

And finally, a different piece of property sold. My father also inherited property from my Grandfather and suddenly he was flush with cash. He intended to reinvest that money, but he agreed to let Alberto and I borrow enough to create a grandchild. Finally we were ready to move forward.