Sharon Guest - Jessie Mei Mei: A Girl from a World Where No Games Are Played

Stuart Neal was the publisher at the ABC for many years and now works as a consultant publisher for Allen & Unwin. Sharon Guest is a playwright and screenplay writer.

Jessie
Mei Mei

A girl from a world where no games are played

S HARON G UEST &
S TUART N EAL

Some of the names in this book have been changed.

First published in 2010

Copyright Sharon Guest and Stuart Neal, 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin 83
Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218
Email: info@allenandunwin.com
Web: www.allenandunwin.com

Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available
from the National Library of Australia
www.librariesaustralia.nla.gov.au

ISBN 978 1 74237 104 7

Typeset in 12/16pt Minion by Post Pre-press Group
Printed and bound in Australia by Griffin Press

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The paper in this book is FSC certified. FSC promotes environmentally responsible, socially beneficial and economically viable management of the worlds forests.

I have known Stuart Neal for some years now in his publishing role as a patient, attentive listener to the kinds of disorganised, rambling book ideas that we journos come up with from time to time. But when I met his partner Sharon Guest, it was in the context of one of the most harrowing stories I have ever reported, and, as she herself so vividly tells it, much of it was taken up with her own heart-wrenching sobs as she described the appalling predicament she and Stuart had faced in caring for their wonderful child, Jessie Mei Mei.

For years Sharon had wanted a child of her own, but if theres a moral in here, its one of beware what you wish for! Jessie changed their lives in ways so mundane, and yet so profound, that its impossible as a reader of this tale not to feel their joy and anguish too. Jessie presented Sharon and Stuart with the biggest challenge of their lives. And in meeting that challenge head-on, they learned how to fight, and how to change the world around them for their daughters sake. Its a tale of extraordinary pain, frustration and guts, shot through with shafts of lightness and love.

Three years ago Stuart and Sharon were struggling parents colliding with a monolithic, emotionless bureaucracy. That they prevailed is a tribute to their fortitude, patience and ingenuity, and there are lessons here for the bureaucrats who tell families how to live their lives; for those who rush to judgment about the decision Sharon and Stuart felt forced to take; and for those who have no concept of the battles faced by parents who care for children like Jessie.

Theres an extraordinary symmetry to Jessie Mei Meis story. Twice she was abandoned by parentsand twice she was rescued by Stuart and Sharon. Their life together has been exhilarating, heart-breaking, traumatic and uplifting. Together they have transcended a litany of horrors through their love for each otherand through a defiance of authority. From the haunting horror of Chinas orphanages, to the bone-weary grind and personal tragedy that awaited them back in Australia, its a story of parental devotion given unquestioningly, of small steps forward and huge setbacks, of rage, despair and final acceptance of the inevitable.

This is a uniquely modern love story, spanning two continents in awkward cultural proximity to each other. At its core is the love of a pure, inspiring child, and the power of the ties that bind us all, the invisible red threads reaching out from Jessie Mei Mei to all of us who read this book.

Quentin McDermott
4 CORNERS reporter

CONTENTS

Special thanks to Paul Berchtold and Margaret Johnston from ADHCas DADHC is now knownfor their care and support during a most difficult time.

And to Cindy Lorenzone in a million.

PRELUDE
EAT AN APPLE AND LIE UPSIDE DOWN

Sharon

Someone commented to me recently that because infertility is more widespread these days, couples find it easier to deal with. Experience tells me that whatever the context, it remains a lonely road where longing and primal instinct overtake you. For me, being unable to have children was an all-consuming, constant torment that at times doubled me over with grief. Not all women feel this way and some choose to bypass children altogether, but for me, as the years passed, desperation grew into fear as my fertile years ebbed with each birthday.

My husband Ed (pseudonym) and I never thought twice that we wouldnt be able to procreate and, in the hubris of youth, I thought it wasnt a matter of if but a matter of when. Ed, an Australian journalist, had been posted to London and we were having a grand old time, but after two years of trying we were mystified a pregnancy hadnt occurred. We sought help.

Well, said the smiling, bald-headed specialist peering through his bifocals, his demeanour screaming importance, Cambridge and money. He was immaculately presented, but hanging off his face was a purple-veined, bulbous monkey like proboscisa deformity unmistakably symptomatic of too much red wine and way too much scotch. On any other day we would have laughed our heads off. I was 28 when he told us we fell into the 10 per cent of infertile couples diagnosed with unexplained infertility and should look to IVF.

Whats he on about, we shouted over each other in the street outside, making for the nearest pub.

If there isnt a problem its bloody good news, isnt it?

Bloody idiot, shouted Ed.

Its just a matter of time, thats all, I muttered.

Course it is, said Ed, draining half his pint in one go.

When I was 31 we sought medical help.

Years and years of arduous, invasive fertility treatment followed on our return to Australia. It was an unforgiving, emotional roller-coaster and eventually my entire happiness revolved around my fertility cycle. Hopes were raised just to be dashed, over and over; it was a living nightmare as, each month, the inevitable period pains unravelled the few remaining vestiges of hope, little by little.

Eat an apple while standing on your head, whispered Fang, my toothless mother-in-law, without a hint of a smile. If it wasnt the Billings method it was relaxation, hypnosis, herbal medicine, Chinese faith-healers, positive thinking, retreats, dieteat yams! Even my own mother was at it: Why dont you go to Spain? she said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. A woman in her 50s has just given birth!, she yelled down the phone from England.