Venetia Sherson - Amazing Grace: A story of surrogacy and the love of two New Zealand sisters

Amazing Grace

A story of surrogacy and the love of two New Zealand sisters

Venetia Sherson

Published by JAG Publishing, 2021.

To Maddy, who made our family complete, and Karene who helped bring Grace Madeleine Sherson into the world in the most perfect way.

First published 2021

JAG Publishing

Copyright 2021 in text: Venetia Sherson

Venetia Sherson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. Except for short extracts for the purpose of review, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

ISBN 978-0-473-57877-0

Disclaimer

While this book is intended as a general information resource and all care has been taken in compiling the contents, neither the author nor the publisher and their distributors can be held responsible for any loss, claim or action that may arise from reliance on the information contained in this book. As each person and situation is unique, it is the responsibility of the reader to consult a qualified professional regarding their personal care.

PROLOGUE
The Worst Day

B reathe, she tells herself. Just breathe. But breath wont come. She tries to focus. The specialist is explaining the next steps. She hears the words urgent and essential. The specialist shows a picture of a cone biopsy of her cervix and pinpoints where the abnormal cells have spread. She hears her mother, a barrister, asking probing questions in the way she would of witnesses in court. What are her options? There must be an alternative. What can we do? She sees her sister, watching her. Keeping her safe with her eyes. Telling her silently, this will be all right. We will get through this together. She trusts her sister more than anyone else in the world. They have been besties since childhood. She wants to believe her. But two words are on rotate in her brain.

No babies.

She is 31 years old, a lawyer, newly in love, planning a life together, a family.

No babies.

On the drive home, her sister holds her in her arms while her mother manoeuvres the car through motorway traffic. She thinks now how hard that must have been and of her mothers reassuring focus on solutions. She remembers cars passing through a blur of tears. Feeling overwhelmed and disconnected. And angry. Why me? she asks over and over. And then, the universal mantra of those faced with devastating news: Its just not fair.

It takes two hours to travel from Greenlane Hospital in Auckland to Hamilton. They drive straight to her mothers house and she dials her partners phone. Can you come? When he arrives minutes later, her mother and sister leave them alone. Its a warm spring day and they sit by the pool. There are the sounds of children playing in the park opposite. Babe, its the worst news, she says. The cancer is aggressive. They need to do a radical hysterectomy within a month in case it spreads further. That means I cant have children. Then she buries her head in his chest and weeps. He holds her and strokes her hair. He talks about her health being more important to him than fertility. Itll be okay, babe, he says. She doesnt believe it then. But she feels his strength will get them through...

CHAPTER 1
An epiphany in the jungle

I n 2015, Jemani Alchin -Boller sat with her friend Dani in the lotus position on the roof of their tiny wooden cabin in the Costa Rican rainforest, looking at the moon and trying to figure out her life. The air was thick with the croaks of red-eyed tree frogs and the chirps and rustles of other creatures going about their nightly business. It was a new moon, too pale to see far into the jungle, but the women had hauled an old lamp up a ladder through the loft, along with a bottle of Argentinian Malbec. The lamp illuminated their faces, their hair loosely knotted, hands in a mudra position index fingers lightly touching their thumbs. The moons fine crescent made the stars look brighter and the sky darker. Jem closed her eyes. She was 30; she had a law degree; she had travelled for two years, non-stop, supervising busloads of hormone-fuelled backpackers around Europe. She had walked out of a relationship after eight years, finally understanding it was unhealthy for both of them. She had imagined her life taking shape like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces neatly interlocked. But everything felt fragmented and uncertain. Back home in New Zealand, friends were mostly married, planning babies and new curtains. She met them for coffee and drinks but felt out of place in their world. Have you met anyone? they asked, stunned that their beautiful friend was still single. When are you going to begin practising law? It was the same questions she asked herself, along with, What do I want from my life?

It was Danis idea to come up on the roof. Dani was a life coach and on her own journey of self-discovery. She was two years younger than Jem, single without kids and moving from country to country working from her computer on charity projects. She viewed the moon as an ally in finding answers to the Big Questions and saw it could be helpful to her friend. A new moon is rejuvenating, she said as they clambered up the ladder, balancing the Malbec and the lamp. A time for new beginnings. The new moon contemplation included a ritual that involved writing down a list of things to let go of, then burning it. When the negative thoughts had been seen off, new intentions could be set in play. The approach made sense to Jem and, in a rich jungle setting with an edge-of-the world feeling, it felt like a good place to jump off.

When Dani had suggested Jem join her in Costa Rica, Jem was weighing up whether to attend a wedding in Hawaii. She worked out she could have six weeks in Costa Rica for the same price as a wedding outfit and a hotel for a few days in Honolulu. Time with her friend seemed an ideal escape from a life that was rapidly settling into a humdrum round of work, study and admiring other couples babies. She stored her stilettos and suits at her mothers house, booked a flight from Auckland to San Jose, then jumped on a tiny plane that landed on a grass runway in the middle of the jungle, the closest landing strip to Santa Teresa, a tiny hamlet near the southern tip of the Nicoya Peninsular, peppered with yoga retreats and organic eateries. The town is nirvana for surfers, big-city drop-outs, and the odd celebrity on a detox diet. The most common expression is pura vida which translates as simple life. The biggest concern for locals Ticos is whether to pave the bumpy, dusty track that serves as the main road. It was May when Jem arrived and the temperature was in the mid-30s. Swathes of mist hung about the forest and she could hear monkeys jabbering in the trees. Quad bikes were lined up to take the new arrivals into town. Jem heaved her too-full backpack from the plane and jumped on a bike behind a bare-backed local.