Game Set Match
A Child – The Perfect Combination of a Partnership
"Perfect" seems pure—without blemishes, without defects. But upon further reflection, "perfect" is a world packed into one word. It implies the perilous journey required to attain a desired outcome. A story that unfolds in a way that seems written by higher powers.
In comparison, a perfect victory in tennis requires more than just winning—it demands resilience, strategy, and perseverance. It takes the mental vigor to push through challenges consistently. From the moment the shoes are laced, the battle begins. At times, it feels like standing in the path of a typhoon. But perfection in tennis is achieved by breaking the process into steps: win enough games, and you take the set; win enough sets, and you claim the match.
Our fertility journey mirrored this struggle to a T.
Here is our story of standing at the edge of our typhoon.
Game: The Embryos
It was the winter of 2021-2022. Sasha and I had set our sights on having children. Standing together on Belmont Pier, we envisioned a fertility journey that, while expensive, would be relatively straightforward. With that in mind, we turned to a country that had always been there for us—Mexico.
After multiple failed attempts at different clinics and exhausting drives from Orange County to Tijuana three times a week, we had no success. Then Sasha found a clinic in Punta de Mita, a small beach town in Mexico, with a highly skilled team and an outstanding doctor. There, in a state-of-the-art, U.S.-standard hospital—our Millennium Falcon—we finally saw hope.
On June 2, 2023, we created the right number of embryos. Two weeks later, we received the news: a large number of them were "normal" and ready for use!
Set: The Surrogate
After celebrating the enormous success of having viable embryos, we faced another challenge—what Nassim Taleb, my favorite author, calls a "Fat Tail Risk" and a "Turkey Problem."
The Turkey’s Life Story:
For 1,000 days, a turkey lives a happy, well-fed life. Every day, the farmer shows up and feeds it.
The turkey forms a belief: "The farmer loves me. He feeds me every day, so my life will always be this good."
But on Day 1,001—Thanksgiving—the turkey’s expectations are shattered. It is killed and eaten.
The turkey's past experience did not prepare it for the true risk: slaughter.
This was the scenario we needed to avoid, given Sasha’s previous abdominal surgeries and the potential dangers of labor. It was a heartbreaking setback. Tears welled up as we searched for a solution.
Once again, Sasha came through. She found an organization that could match us with a qualified surrogate. The same hospital where we had our embryos had a connection to this agency.
And then, we found an angel.
A woman who was willing to risk her well-being to give us a family. A person with a profound passion for helping others. We chose to embark on this journey together, and we’ve been grateful ever since.
This brings me to another angel in our lives—Sasha’s grandmother, Nana Kay.
I met Sasha on December 6, 2014—Nana Kay’s birthday. She left this world in the summer of 2024. A year later, her family gathered to spread her ashes in a cherry field in Traverse City.
Sasha had to leave early, but I stayed. With her family, I helped spread her grandmother’s ashes. When we returned home, my phone rang. It was Sasha.
Our surrogate was pregnant.
Nana Kay is the reason our daughter bears the name "Preston."
Match: The Birth
I had just written the paragraph above and shut my laptop. The next morning, after completing my meditation ritual, my phone buzzed.
A WhatsApp message.
"Our surrogate’s water may have broken. She’ll be at the hospital in 90 minutes."
I grabbed my backpack, threw in some clothes, and headed where? To the gym, sauna, and cold plunge. That’s right—if this was happening, your boy needed his dopamine.
We arrived at the hospital waiting room. The doctor walked in and said, "You're going to be a dad today."
Three years of playing a tennis match had led us to this moment. This was the final set, and the time had come to win.
Then, another decision. The doctor informed us that only one of us could be in the delivery room—me or Sasha.
In life, you have moments where you realize just how deeply someone understands you. Sasha looked straight into my eyes and said, "Babe, you have wanted this for so long. You need to be in there."
Tears streamed down my face. What an incredible partner I had found.
Here we go, team.
I waited in our "super suite," accompanied by a nervous representative from the surrogacy agency. I taught her a few Huberman breathing exercises, and they seemed to help. Then the doctor came for me.
As I walked past a TV screen, I saw some doctors watching a Celtics game. I jokingly told them, "You should be watching the Lakers instead."
Inside the delivery room, about eight doctors worked with the precision of a well-rehearsed orchestra. They were listening to music—apparently, classic rock is their soundtrack for delivering babies.
And then, as the procedure was underway, a familiar song came on.
"Ordinary World" by Duran Duran.
"And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world, I will learn to survive."
At that moment, I heard a cry.
My daughter’s cry.
She had arrived.
The pediatrician immediately assessed her vitals.
COMPLETELY HEALTHY
GAME…!
SET…!
MATCH...!
Nara Jacqueline was born on February 12, 2025, in Mexico City.
We won.
