I'm sure it's no surprise to say that this whole experience of trying to bring a child in to the world is one that occupies your life but the really tough part is the inability to converse with others about the experience.

It's certainly partly our fault for not being more open about the experience but it's also a subject that's awkward in society. Being surrounded with people who talk about their children is not a difficult experience for us, in fact we love it but it's awkward for people our age to not have the social currency of children. I found that without children, you would leave people feeling uncomfortable. The are plenty of other things to talk about but there's an awkward pause. Best to not respond to the question 'do you have children?' with no but we sure are hoping to have some soon. My trick was to say 'We have a hairy child - a dog.' laughter ensued and the question faded away.

As a side note, I found it interesting based on my experience that for those parents who do not live life through their children, they were way more intrigued and comfortable to have discussions around our approach to child birth but as illustrated by that great New Yorker cover of a child who's huge and his parents tiny standing in his shadow, I find many American parents tend to live through their children.

Even talking to your own family doesn't relieve the exasperation. Invariably in their desire to try to understand, they fall back on the age old emotional stroking that follows bad school results, failed marriages and occasional deaths. It's a strange feeling that's neither present nor distant. Just a space in-between that you want to hug the life out of. Don't get me wrong, I'm not surprised they couldn't handle it in a way that felt comfortable for anyone. It's just not part of the typical sequence of life - it's an alien conversation without precedence.

There are forums out there where people can share their stories but we didn't want to join a fellowship or church of misery, which most of these seemed to fit in to. A simple YouTube type relationship was all we were after. Videos that explained all the different stages - IUI, IVF, Donation... - a simple video that explained how certain things should feel, what are the key indications of success or failure, how to choose a donor mother, what questions you should ask your fertility doctor...

So this all leads me to the last part of our personal story, which I have to say has felt very self-indulgent. I'm hoping that it will help others who are on this path or close to people who are on the same path.

The donor came up trumps - enough eggs to have two goes at it. Everything was looking good. The fertility doctors were confident that all was going to work. Sally had been administered all the right injections and her body was in perfect condition to receive the fertilized eggs. We were on the home stretch. Remember guys for a minute what Sally was accepting here. These were not her eggs but the eggs of another woman and Sally would in effect be the carrier not the bearer of this life yet unborn. This is where Sally showed incredible strength and seemed less conscious of this situation than I was. She was amazing.

A wait of a few weeks and then we entered the fertility doctors to hear the news. The funny thing was that by this time our hunch was well trained and on this occasion like many before it wasn't playing nice. Our hunch was right. Not successful. The tears, sorrow and anger were heightened. Funny how parks have been a critical element in my life at times when I have to ball my eyes out. My father's death announced to me as I was next to Berkley Square in London - a park that my father and I had passed through many times and a place that day that saw a man completely out of control of his being - just crying from the deepest part of his inner body. This time it was Central Park and Sally and I were there together. Both of us feeling completely beaten. 

A few days later we were back at the fertility doctors. They wanted to do a more thorough analysis of Sally. 'More thorough analysis?' Then what did we do last time and why wouldn't we have done the most thorough one at that time? This examination was reframed as an optimizing procedure that would mean that next time round, Sally would be at her best. Funny, that sounded awfully familiar as well.

We had decided that this time was going to be the last.

As preparation was taking place for this 'last round', we went to a top adoption agency in New York that specializes in foreign adoptions. They told us about all the problems involved with adopting foreign babies. The years it takes. The increased challenges for those couples who were not married for at minimum of 4 years. The audience in this agency was made up of about 10 couples who were at the same meeting seeking out the adoption option. Not one smile in the room as if this was a poor state of affairs that we should all be in this place at the same time. It seemed completely foreign to us, which is ironic because some way into the discussion, the agency revealed that you had to be an American citizen to adopt a foreign child. Makes complete sense today but at that time, it was a complete surprise and we walked out of the agency feeling like there was a strong message being relayed to us - you're not going to have children.

We were not set on a foreign adoption, although Sally and I have a strong affinity to India and would have loved to adopt from there but the Indian government is too proud to admit they need help, so their adoption criteria is very restricted and includes that both parents have to be Indian. We were learning as we went along and very quickly realized that we wanted to adopt an American child. We then talked to a number of experts in this field, which included meeting with adoption attorneys who work for you when you have found a mother wanting to give up her child for adoption. This is called the private adoption option and requires you to work with adoption websites where you buy advertising space and create your own website to pitch to potential adoptees. The success rate has no consistency to speak of and one frightening aspect for us is that New York law states that the mother of the child has 45 days to change her mind after she has given you the baby. Given our luck to date, this was too big a window for us to accept.

Thanks to friends, we found an agency in Texas who had no issue with us not being married and had the benefit of Texas law, which gives the mother of the child only 48 hours to change her mind. We liked the people at this agency a lot. The vibe was good. By the way, this was after turning down another agency that offered black children at a discounted rate - I kid you not. We had to put a pitch document together that showed the life that a child would potentially experience with us - fortunately, there were examples from other couples to help guide writing ours. The process was underway but we had one more try at IVF to take place.

The last attempt at IVF with the donor eggs just so happened to fall at the end of November, so we would know before the new year whether we were going to be parents or not. All the same stuff happened again but this time we had the surprise of our lives. I will never forget the look on Sally's face the day she tested herself and the pink lines were prominent. It had worked and she was giddy like I can only imagine she would have been as a little girl. It was a beautiful thing to see and the feeling I had inside was like nothing I had felt before. Unexplainable but I'm sure a familiar feeling for any guy who hears he's going to be a father.

The funny part of this whole exercise is that you get completely obsessed with getting pregnant that you completely forget all the issues that go with pregnancy - especially in those first 3 months. As if you are going to be completely immune from that part of the equation. It's true that with all the injections and everything, your body is in better shape than most to carry the baby through but you never know what card nature will play. And it played it for us a week after the euphoria of discovering we were pregnant. Sally had a nasty pain and then felt nothing. Emptiness inside. While it seems impossible to believe that she could have felt pregnant in such a short period of time, she did and she knew that feeling had gone. I was away with work - in Russia. I felt completely useless. As soon as I got back we went to the doctor, who had said there was no need to be concerned and that a test could not be done for a while anyway as it would be too early to know if something was wrong.

Finally when it was time to test, we went in and the news was not good. Previous signs that showed doubling of critical data in a positive direction had seized and in fact were now in decline, suggesting that we had a miscarriage situation in the making. There was no chance of survival. Our last attempt was over even though the remnant of its existence and grasp of life was still there on the screen and still technically living.

Adoption was now our only option and we went at it with gusto. Adoption in America is typically no Juno. The first mother who was offered to us was badly addicted to methane  - a medical alternative to crack and equally addictive and equally destructive. The second mother was a harder one to turn down. The weird part was that she looked so much like us that for most people it would have been the perfect match. This created a question for us that I'm sure many people will not understand but it was important to us.

We decided we wanted to have a baby that clearly was adopted to anyone looking in to our family unit. The reason being that we didn't want any whispers of is s/he or s/he not their child. We wanted it to be clear to eliminate the space between awkward questions and the reality of our child's situation. We wanted people to embrace the very fact that our child was adopted. Our agency in Texas had serious questions about this late decision in the adoption criteria and suggested that this went against typical behavior. They asked us to meet with our counselor to discuss this further and until we did they would hold any further activity. We were distraught but fortunately our counselor is the best we could ask for. We had the discussion with her the same day and she agreed with the agency that this was unusual behavior but it didn't suggest there was anything wrong with us. She did state that many child psychologists studying adoption have argued for like looking adoptions but also stated there were an equal number who argued that it's about the conversations you have with your child that are critical rather than creating a symmetrical family. As with everything, there were many different perspectives on offer.

Fortunately for us, the same day we were told we needed counseling, the owner of the adoption agency called us to say that he was terribly embarrassed by what had been stated to us. He continued on, stating that what we were asking for was a very modern view and one he personally endorsed. We wanted a racially diverse child and most people don't. He wished that more people were like us. After a disturbing email, then a call with the agency in the morning, followed by a more promising call with our counselor, we ended the day feeling like we weren't completely crazy. Just another crazy emotional roller coaster day.

Our luck was turning because within a few days we got the call that will potentially change our lives forever. A Hispanic woman who had got pregnant by an African American drug dealer liked our profile and wanted us to adopt her child, who is going to be born at the end of June. The story of her life is not a pretty picture but her only vice is marijuana. Try to find an American who isn't close to this stuff today.

Last month we went to SXSW and took a day out to meet the mother in San Antonio. She has had three children and two were taken away from her and fostered and the other is with the mother's father who has become the legal guardian. We met the prospective mother and her boyfriend and took them out to lunch and then shopping at Wal-Mart. Basically how it works is that once both parties have accepted each other, we as the adopters pay for the mother's living through to and including 6 weeks after the birth. This includes housing, medical bills, and general living. We are present at the hospital at the birth and live with the baby for 48 hours and during that time the mother can change her mind. We feel like our chances are good especially as we have established a great relationship with the couple. One thing that's also working in our favor is the other three children are from her boyfriend but the one we are adopting was from the drug dealer, who came in to play after the boyfriend was locked up for holding up a gas station. He's now back and unlikely to want this child anywhere near him after its birth. This couple is amazing. Born on the wrong side of the tracks and this world is incredibly cruel to those who don't have the hope or luck of many of us. You walk away feeling like you really want to help them out. Something you are technically not allowed to do for obvious reasons.

So this 3-part story is way too long and I apologize for that. I hope it has been interesting and of some help to those who need it. I hope it has explained what the experience is like for those engaged in it and for those close to others who are going through this experience. We have probably covered every aspect of bringing a child in to our life, so I have not been able to go too deep in to particular aspects simply because there's too much to share. This is like a 40,000-foot view of our two years. This June, we hope, will make all of this completely worthwhile. We will not stop at one child because at this stage only having one child will make us over protective of the child and we will spoil it rotten. Wish us luck that those 48 hours of consideration work in our favor. Thanks for sticking out this lengthy post.

We have purposely not mentioned any names. Everyone in this story did the best they could and some things just don't make sense but hey, you can't get the better of nature. It's too powerful. We will never understand why we couldn't have our own children but the result is that we can help other children have a wonderful deserving life.

The next stage of the discussion was inevitable but hard to accept. The doctor told Sally that she thought the problem was that Sally's eggs were too old to handle the process. This presented two blows, the first being a sudden confirmation of her age and the second being that all those injections and their affect on the mind, body and soul were for nothing.  We had an option presented to us, which was to look for a donor egg. Some people ask family or very close friends; others like us sought the services of donor agencies. This was a quick process - fortunately there are plenty of young girls in New York who want to earn a good sum of money and hopefully have a desire to help out those people who are less viral. They actually have to go through the same IVF procedure, so the money they earn is very much deserving.

We met with a therapist come donor matcher and after being approved psychologically for the procedure, we went to a computer and started to choose whom the donor would be. This is a weird process, which Sally best captured in the question - “do I choose a donor that is physically like me or choose one that has everything I wished I had - long legs for one!” We found the perfect girl who according to the expert had Sally’s personality and in many ways, her looks.

The donor provided plenty of eggs and now we truly felt we were home and dry. We are also realists though, so we started to look in to adoption as a back up plan. Well not really a back up plan because we had always said we would adopt a child whether we had one or not. Now, we were speeding up the process of learning and engaging.

More IVF and Adoption to follow...

Age is a funny thing. As a guy you don't have the biological clock ticking in the back of your mind. Instead you have the sociological clock ticking right before your eyes. Men are supposed to do things by a certain time. Stop acting foolish at 25. Be a good husband by 30. And be an impressive 2-kid dad at 35. Of course it's never as statistically clean as that but it might as well be.

Driven by a desire to avoid the inertia of tradition, age never caught up with me. At 40, I was freshly divorced - amicably - and looking to a new life in New York. The words midlife crisis were muttered by my friends except there was no open top spots car; no 22-year-old energetic blonde by my side. Just me going to New York on my own. I had plans that included starting a charity initiative in India. To me, there was no midlife crisis. Why was it called a crisis anyway? I saw only opportunity and had in my mind that if I could achieve and experience as much in the next 40 years as I had done in the first - life would be golden.

There was one problem. It came from left field. I suddenly realized I didn't have children and time was running out. But I hear you say - you're a guy, you don't need to worry about stuff like that. Ah, but you do. The sociological clock becomes all the more powerful when you are on the wrong side of it. Fortunately my home of New York is way kinder than in London. You feel like you have a 10 year cushion over your actual age. As a Brit, trips to London are fairly frequent and what you see are lots of young couples with kids. Surrounded by these delightful couples, you feel old. The old I’m talking about is the quiet voice that says, it’s too late.

Forty didn’t present a midlife crisis to me but it did present a reality that was in stark contrast to the dream state that existed before. When you’re young you feel invincible. You feel you can do anything. You have the chance to pick a subject or skill and be so good at it that it could set you up for life. At 40, books like Gladwell’s Outliers present a stark reality to you. The concept of 10,000 hours is out of your reach.

So at 40, I asked myself, is it too late to have children? Biologically probably not but from a sociological point of view, am I too old to be pushing a buggy around, playing in a jungle gym park...? The fear was that based on the London observation, I was well passed my time.  

It was at this time that I was fortunate to meet Sally. Two years younger than me (reinforcing the fact that there's no midlife crisis here) and keen like me to have children. We gave it a little time before we took the objective seriously but also knew that time was not on our side. Age once again makes its presence felt because if we were younger we surely would have spent more time together; made sure the relationship was solid before making the leap to as they so neatly call it, family planning. We didn't have time to mess around and maturity gave us the sense that no matter what, we could find a way to make things work in the future.

Time eventually did play its card anyway because things were not quite working to plan. No baby was forthcoming. I decided that the problem had to be with me and eventually even found a specialist who agreed with my own prognosis. I had tests that showed that all was good - better than good actually and I should have walked out of the specialist feeling ready to impregnate the world but I didn't. I went to another specialist and went through the whole process again but had told him that I had my suspicions. He added a level of analysis that would check for everything. I got to enjoy more free porn in a room that could be best described as pushing one's imagination to the limit. No success; no analysis.

A week later I got the call. Top-level results look great as previously confirmed but there was a problem. Your guys are not good swimmers. It's funny because I've never been a great swimmer myself. It's the breathing that takes me down every time. Put me on a surfboard where my head is above water and I can paddle with the best of them but in a pool, I'm shit. So the irony of this made me laugh out loud but the smile was soon wiped off my face when I heard how to solve the problem. An operation in that area of my body isn’t going to be fun. The specialist gave me tons of documents in support of his approach and they all seemed pretty legit. This guy had basically played back what I told him - the problem was with me - so he must be right about the solution. Just shows what trouble your ego can get you in to. It can get personal.

The surgery was a success. Meanwhile Sally had been going through lots of tests herself and nothing showed up. Give it three months of healing and we are good to go - the last words of my specialist. I've avoided going in to detail on the surgery but suffice it to say it’s like a horse catching you right in the groin but the velocity of the kick is so great that you feel it for two weeks. Not pleasant but surely worth it right? Wrong.

Eight months later and still no success. We had changed specialists a couple of times - none of them seemed to deal with the psychological side of the challenge very well, especially for the woman. They also never seem to have a FAQ sheet and I'm sure the questions are the same for every couple. The specialists appear to get frustrated with your questions and you start to avoid asking questions to alleviate their frustration. Trouble is you still don't understand a ton of stuff and that later comes back to haunt you.

IUI and IVF to follow…