Arieff Adrienne - The sacred thread: a true story of becoming a mother and finding a family, half a world away

A TRUE STORY OF BECOMING
A MOTHER AND FINDING A FAMILY
HALF A WORLD AWAY

Copyright 2012 by Adrienne Arieff

All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crown Publishers, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com

CROWN and the Crown colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

eISBN: 978-0-307-71670-5

JACKET DESIGN BY NUPOOR GORDON
JACKET PHOTOGRAPHY DINODIA IMAGES

v3.1

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO MY FATHER, ALLEN, AND LATE MOTHER, CAROL, WHO BOTH TAUGHT ME TO FOLLOW MY DREAMS, NOT TO FEAR NEW THINGS, AND TO TREAT EVERYONE WITH RESPECT .

I HOPE THIS BOOK HELPS ANYONE WHO HAS EVER STRUGGLED WITH INFERTILITY .

I have changed the names of some people in this book out of respect for their privacy. I have rearranged some instances and events. I have taken a few people I met along the way and condensed them into fewer people so as not to distract from the larger story. Otherwise, this book is a true account of my experiences as I remember them happening.

A T ONE END OF THIS WORLD, THERE IS ONE WOMAN WHO DESPERATELY NEEDS A BABY AND CANNOT HAVE HER OWN CHILD . A ND AT THE OTHER END, THERE IS A WOMAN WHO BADLY WANTS TO HELP HER OWN FAMILY . I F THESE TWO WOMEN WANT TO HELP EACH OTHER, WHY NOT ALLOW THAT ? T HEYRE HELPING ONE ANOTHER TO HAVE A NEW LIFE IN THIS WORLD .

Dr. Nayna Patel, medical director
Akanksha Infertility Clinic
Anand, India

In the Hindu tradition, when a child is ready to leave home, join their guru, and begin their spiritual journey, a coming-of-age ceremony is performed. During the ritual known as the Upanayana, or the Sacred Thread, the child is given a cord composed of three strands, woven together and secured by a single knot. For the rest of their lives, Brahmans wear this thread, draped over the shoulder, as a physical representation of their umbilical connection to parents, God, and the world. No matter how far one travels from his or her origins, an undeniable connection remains. Also known as the Second Birth, the Sacred Thread ceremony is a celebration and an affirmation of the ties that anchor, guide, and connect us throughout our lives, dating back to Creation, and extending to Eternity.

I feel the heat first. It rouses me from disorienting, sticky dreams. The walls of my hotel room are an earthy reddish brown, like the interior of a tandoori ovensteamy, close, and designed to intensify and tenderize its contents. Im slow-roasting. My thoughts are slow and muddythis heat! How can anyone think in this heat?and as I rub my eyes and look out my window, I remember. Oh my God, Im in India!

Ive just traveled nine thousand miles to arrive here, a rural pocket of northern India near the border with Pakistan, to have a child. I have come here under the direction of a fertility specialist to whom Ive only spoken over the phone, to undergo IVF treatment and have children at last, with the help of an Indian surrogate Ive never met. There is no guarantee that any of this will be successful.

I slide open my window to relieve the stifling heat in my room. This, it turns out, has the opposite effect. As hard as it is to imagine, its actually hotter outside. While the inside of my room is baking, it is nothing compared to the sopping, still air of the street. The humidity is a wall on this windless day; the atmosphere is completely and eternally inert. These are the dog days of Indian summer.

When I open my window, I not only invite in the heat but also the carnival of life in the street. All five senses are immediately assailed with a riot of sensationcolor, noise, pollution, heat, incenseand everywhere the incessant, high-volume hum and honk of village life.

Theres no doubt about it, Im not in the Bay Area anymore. The urban comforts I have come to rely on are nowhere in sight. My smartphone is perpetually losing signal, and I dont imagine that there is a latte or a martini or even a good roast chicken to be found within five hundred miles. Anand is a district located in the state of Gujarat, which is strictly vegetarian. No restaurant, hotel, or self-respecting citizen serves beef, pork, chicken, or fish, even to a foreigner like me. Gujarat is also a dry state, no alcohol allowed, though if I had a drink in this heat, I swear I might pass out. But, after the day I think Im about to have, I might be willing to risk it.

I look up the street and then down, trying to get the lay of the land, but its a jumbled puzzle of honking and yelling and rumbling, and unexplained explosions in the distance every now and again, explosions that nobody seems to pay much attention to. I cant make any sense of it. There are no cultural landmarks to guide me, no familiar sights, sounds, or smells. I feel as if I have been dropped on a foreign planet. A dry, screaming-hot planet with no cheeseburgers.

I sigh, turning back toward my cramped hotel room. I am, after all, a capable and well-traveled woman. While in college, I interned with the Peace Corps in Washington, D.C., and at an international telecommunications firmboth took me to places I had never dreamed I would get to visit, from Guatemala to Mexico City to Hong Kong. After graduation, I went to Israel and lived in a kibbutz for four months, and then was off to follow a Spanish boyfriend to Madrid.

This knowledgethe certainty that no matter how strange my surroundings, I will find friendship, laughter, and loveis the only thing that is giving me courage right now. I cling to these thin straws of strength; they are a raft in a vast and unfamiliar ocean.

Lets face it, I am embarking on a bold and frightening new adventure.

Right now I feel like Im having an out-of-body experience, or that I am trapped in a foreign film without the benefit of subtitles. I feel numb, and nervous, but very excited too. My emotions are as chaotic as the traffic in the streets, all traveling at max capacity toward a head-on collision with the unknown.

Even though Ive been on planes, trains, and automobiles to get here, the full weight of my passage and of what I hope to achieve in this journey has not quite resonated until now. Ive held off the full awareness of whats happening until this, the absolute last moment. I have no choice but to go forward. Truthfully, I think I only made it this far by closing my eyes to the sheer madness of the adventure. When youre facing something as intractable and incomprehensible as infertility, and youre feeling helpless and hopeless, denial can be your best friend. Its what makes it possible to run where angels fear to tread. My mom taught me that. I thought she was crazy the first time she said it, but now I understand the method to her madness.