A miraculous lifelong bond
How 2-year-old Gia Canellis is bringing joy to an ultramodern family
It’s May 10, Mother’s Day. Two moms are on a FaceTime call, connecting Chicago to Louisiana, as they celebrate an even bigger occasion.
Gia Canellis has turned 2.
“She is perfect,” Blandine Moore says as she sees Gia pick sprinkles off her birthday cake. “I am so glad you’re a mom.”
“You made it happen,” Monica Canellis replies.
Lou Canellis, Monica’s husband, calls Gia the “miracle baby.”
She is the product of a complex story that involves a Chicago sportscaster who made his name interviewing 1990s Bulls players, an anonymous Asian egg donor and an immigrant from Belgium who enlisted in the Air Force and deserves her own “30 for 30” documentary.
It’s an ultramodern family, hatched on the day Canellis decided he wanted to be a father. No, needed to be a father. But his wife, Monica, could not conceive, and their advanced age and the closing of international borders limited their chances for adoption.
“We were on the verge of giving up,” Canellis says. They found another way.
They found the Michael Jordan of surrogate moms. “One hundred percent,” Monica says.
“She’s an entertainer already. It’s innately in her, maybe from her dad.” — Monica Canellis on her daughter, Gia
Gia is walking around her parents’ 12th-floor condo, which has stunning views of the skyline and Soldier Field. She approaches and offers the object she’s holding: “Ball! Ball!”
There’s no use trying to socially distance from the world’s most adorable 2-year-old, one with chestnut hair and squeezable cheeks and modeling credits for Pizza Hut and Kohl’s.
“She likes boys way too much,” Lou jokes. Adds Monica: “She’s an entertainer already. It’s innately in her, maybe from her dad.”
Canellis is WFLD-Ch.-32’s top sports anchor and hosts the Bears’ pregame, halftime and postgame shows, plus their preseason games, on the local Fox affiliate. The Oak Lawn native and Loyola alumnus makes no apologies for being a fan, saying: “That’s why I’ve been in this business in this town for 35 years. I’m one of them.”
He witnessed his first Bears game in 1968, at age 4. Two years later his godfather died and left his season tickets in the name of Louis G. Canellis. When the mailman came every summer to deliver them, Lou had to sign for them. In those early years, his parents helped him hold the pen.
On Sunday mornings, Lou and younger brothers Peter and George would help their father at the family dry-cleaning store at 69th and Western. Then they’d head to Soldier Field. Lou and George now share season tickets in Section 434, though Lou watches from the press box, dying with each Mitch Trubisky overthrow.
“There is nothing fake about Lou,” Bears Hall of Fame linebacker Brian Urlacher says. “He’s a good dude, endearing.”
Years ago a producer at Fox 32 asked Canellis if he could secure a Bears player to appear each week on “The Final Word,” which airs Sunday nights. (Full disclosure: The author has appeared as a paid guest on the show.)
Maybe a starter of the caliber of Devin Aromashodu? Canellis promised a bigger name, a linebacker who meshed with few media members.
“Lou helped people see a different side of me,” Urlacher says. “I’d go in there after we lost, and it was like I was talking to a buddy, not someone who was grilling me. Don’t get me wrong. He’d say: ‘Hey, you dropped a pick. What happened there?’ He didn’t give me layups. Your buddies rip you too. But it wasn’t serious all the time.”
The coronavirus pandemic has forced Canellis to deliver his twice-nightly sportscasts from what was a spare bedroom. Behind him is a case containing a Bears helmet and football autographed by Trubisky, plus framed letters signed by George Halas and George McCaskey thanking longtime season ticket holders.
When Canellis learned the Fox 32 studio would be closed to him, he briefly panicked. How would it affect his routine? Only for the better, it turns out.
“We help Gia brush her teeth,” he says. “We say prayers. We put her in her little wrap, and she kisses me. It’s huge, man. It means everything. It has put it all into perspective because I’ve always feared losing my job. I love my job. But it’s not the end of the world.”
“She did it because she wanted to give back. There is a special place in heaven for people like that.” — Sportscaster Lou Canellis on surrogate Blandine Moore
‘Could not stop staring’
When Lou met Monica, it was like “Entourage” meeting “Sex and the City.” He was dating a 23-year-old in Chicago. She was living in Atlanta, seeing a 27-year-old. Both were in their late 30s.
His life revolved around the Bears, traveling and socializing. She worked for the manager of the band Collective Soul and sometimes directed Elton John to the bathroom when he visited the Versace store. They had, for the most part, rich, fun, carefree lives.
How did they meet?
“Do you want my story or Lou’s?” Monica asks.
It was September 2002. The Bears were playing the Falcons, and one of Lou’s friends suggested he come to Atlanta a day early to go barhopping and “chase all the Georgia peaches.”
They met some women and took them to dinner at Cherry, in Midtown. But Lou kept looking over at another table, meeting eyes with Monica.
“I could not stop staring,” he says. The groups had someone in common, giving Lou an icebreaker. They talked about Chicago and eventually, their family-oriented, blue-collar backgrounds. As a kid, Monica worked for her father’s supermarket in Uptown.
“We grew up the same,” she says. They were friends for a year. Lou knew she was the one when he asked her, rather than his actual girlfriend, to support him during his father’s final days.
Monica grew up a Cubs fan but was unmoved by his connections to top Chicago athletes.
“At my bachelorette party, people said: ‘You’re marrying Lou Piniella?!’ ” she says with a laugh.
Before they were married in 2005 at the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Cathedral of Chicago, Monica gave Lou what she calls an “out.”
They met her obstetrician, who explained that because Monica had undergone numerous surgeries to remove uterine fibroids, she could not bear children. Lou was undeterred. He enjoyed being an uncle but didn’t want kids.
That changed 11 years into their marriage when he became the godfather to the son of Mike Pease, his close friend and running buddy on Rush Street. Lou was so taken by Mike’s relationship to son Thomson he became determined to become a dad.
Monica was cautious because of Lou’s hyperdemanding schedule as a sportscaster, Bears host and restaurant owner (Reverie, which since closed, and Avli Taverna and Avli River North). A successful real estate agent, Monica worried she would lose her identity.
Plus they couldn’t conceive and were over 50, an age adoption agencies find less than ideal. In addition, a 2011 adoption scandal led to a decline from 2005-16.
What to do?
‘Heartbreaking’
Monica will be out with Gia, and people will comment on their resemblance. Friends call her Monica’s “Mini-Me,” which is even cuter considering they have no biological link.
Gia resulted from gestational surrogacy, a process by which a woman bears a child for another couple. Embryos are created via in vitro fertilization and inserted into the carrier. Total out-of-pocket cost runs as high as $150,000, with the carrier typically receiving about $25,000.
It started with Lou giving a sample after being told: “Here’s a movie, here’s a magazine. If you’re more comfortable doing it at home, that’s fine.”
Once his sperm was deemed viable, Lou and Monica pored through profiles from a donor egg bank.
They narrowed it down to Asian and Hispanic women because of Monica’s heritage — half-Asian and part SpanishMexican, Italian and English. They considered more than 100 candidates before choosing a Thai woman because of her build, education and lineage.
Egg donations usually take three to four weeks and require self-injections of hormonal medications to help the ovaries produce multiple eggs. Donors typically are paid around $8,000, but the acceptance rate of applicants can be 1% to 3% — tougher than getting into Harvard.
Lou and Monica will never know the name of the Thai woman they chose, and vice versa. But they believe she lived or lives in Chicago because one of her profile photos had Millennium Park in the background.
Lou swears he locked eyes with her one evening when they were sitting outside at Federales, a taco and tequila bar near Randolph and Morgan streets.
“I believe that God was showing me what my daughter will look like as she gets older,” Lou says.
“But we already know because we have pictures,” Monica says.
“But I got to see!” Lou says.
After the egg retrieval and IVF, the Canellises’ fertility doctor, Angeline Beltsos, informed the couple that approximately 20 embryos were created. Five turned out to be viable: four females and a male.
The search for a carrier took six months and led Lou and Monica to select a woman from South Carolina. But with the Zika virus looming, she could not attend her sister’s wedding in Mexico while pregnant. A second woman, from Atlanta, also said yes and then no. “Heartbreaking,” Lou says.
“We actually considered stopping it,” Monica says. “Then we found Blandine. It was meant to be.”
‘It’s a genetic thing’
Blandine (pronounced Blon-DEEN) Moore was raised outside Brussels in a culture that called for women to wear dresses and stay home with the children. She longed for more. Upon watching an American film that depicted a father playing with his kids, she dreamed of moving to the United States.
At 16, she enrolled in a Catholic boarding school in Spokane, Wash. She never had been on a plane and spoke no English. But Moore wasn’t scared. She connected through New York and Seattle and found her way.
Years later her brother’s wife in Belgium struggled to have a baby, enduring miscarriages and stillbirths. She offered to carry, but they declined over religious concerns.
Blandine met Clinton Moore while he was stationed in Belgium on an Air Force assignment. They married and moved to Abiline, Texas.
She made friends with a woman who had served as a gestational surrogate and recommended Blandine look into it. This was akin to Earl Woods putting a golf club in Tiger’s little hands. Moore is 5-4, weighs less than 120 pounds and wears size 00 pants. She has three sons — Alex, Max and William — and the oldest weighed more than 10 pounds at birth.
“People ask me all the time if I’ve had kids,” she says in her uniquely FrenchTexas accent. “I say: ‘Yes, four times.’ People do not believe it. My family is very skinny. It’s a genetic thing.”
Lou and Monica examined additional candidates before independently selecting Moore, whom they met over Skype. They bonded immediately.
“The agency told me about this sweet couple; they thought it would be a perfect match,” Moore says. “The minute I talked to them, I knew.”
Couples who enter into surrogacy sometimes fear the carrier will not want to part with the baby once it’s born. In those instances, the contract imposes serious financial penalties. Lou and Monica were comfortable with Moore because she bore three children of her own — plus she gave them her word.
“Monica trusted me, I trusted her,” Moore says.
“She was so easy,” Lou says. “There was no negotiation (on her fee). She did it because she wanted to give back. There is a special place in heaven for people like that.”
Fast-forward to May 10, 2018. Lou and Monica are in Abilene after two flights, grateful Moore took the baby to term. Clinton Moore has been putting his country twang to work by singing to his wife’s stomach. It’s festive. There’s wine. Monica asks Lou to go to a store to buy a gag gift for Blandine — a princess tiara to mark her 30th birthday. Blandine wears it the during the delivery. She is relaxed, a pro’s pro.
“Like friends in a room,” Blandine says. “We kept laughing and joking around.”
At 11:49 p.m., a 7-pound, 14-ounce girl enters the world. Her first name will be Georgia, in honor of the state where Lou and Monica met. Her middle name will be Kailani, a Hawaiian term for “sea and sky” in tribute to Monica’s mother’s heritage.
The nurses at the Abilene Regional Medical Center put Gia on Blandine’s chest, but Blandine immediately says to Monica: “Touch her. Hold her.”
“I wanted to make sure the baby knew her mom was Monica,” Blandine says. “It’s very important to make sure she gets to hold her baby.”
How long did it take for Monica to feel like Gia’s mom?
“Oh, immediately,” Monica says. “They handed the baby to Monica,” Lou says, “and she started to break down.”
‘You’re making me cry’
It’s May 10. Mother’s Day. And Blandine’s 32nd birthday.
But the day truly belongs to Gia, now 2, who is bouncing around her parents’ apartment holding plastic golf clubs.
“Hell if I’m paying for college tuition,” Lou jokes. “She’s gonna get a scholarship!”
Lou, Monica, Blandine and Clinton are yukking it up on a FaceTime call.
“Where’s your hot bikini?” Monica asks Blandine.
Then Monica asks Clinton: “Are you gonna sing?”
“Later,” he replies. “I’ve got to get some drinks in me first.”
Lou talks to Max, who just turned 10. “When are you going to come see Gia?” Lou asks. “Gia wants to see her brothers.”
These four have a lifelong bond. Blandine and Clinton not only came to Chicago for Gia’s baptism, they stayed with the Canellises.
They visited The Bean, the Christkindlmarket and the Willis Tower and rode the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier.
They toasted to Gia, their unique collaboration.
“It’s crazy because I know we did not use Monica’s eggs to create her but I think looks so much like her mom,” Blandine says. “She got the perfect mix of her parents. And she is very happy, very social.
“She makes eye contact. Even as a baby she did that.”
Lou and Monica have one viable embryo remaining.
“It’s a boy,” Monica says. “It’s on ice.” Lou and Monica are both 56 and wary of possibly not being around for milestone events in Gia’s life. But Lou, who never thought he’d be a dad, says: “I want to do it. I want to try.”
“You do?” Monica asks. “I need some water … maybe with some bourbon in it.”
“I believe in fate,” Lou says. “We have one embryo left. It’s there for a reason. If we were to get a surrogate and it didn’t work, then it wasn’t meant to be and we could close the book. Having said that, I respect Monica’s decision because she does most of the work.”
If they say yes, they will have to find a new carrier.
Blandine shocked her parents by enlisting in the Air Force.
Her specialty is water and fuel systems, and she envisions having a 20-year military career. She would be overseas now if not for the coronavirus pandemic.
Her two months of basic training in Texas were not all that physically challenging, she says, “but I had been the boss of my house and now I had to obey orders.”
She and her family live on Barksdale Air Force Base in Shreveport, La.
Clinton is medically retired as an Air Force firefighter after falling through a roof in 2017.
“Now my husband is following me around,” she says with a chuckle. “He has always been supportive of anything I want to do, all my crazy ideas. ‘Join the military? Great, do it! I will watch the kids.’ ”
The only negative?
“My body doesn’t just belong to me now,” she says. “It belongs to the military too. I technically cannot do any surrogacy while in the military.”
The Mother’s Day/ birthday call is wrapping up.
“Blow kisses, Gia,” Lou says.
“You are so beautiful,” Blandine replies. “So smiley! I love to see how happy she is all the time.”
“Thank you, Blandine,” Lou says. “You made it happen.”
“I’m so glad we all did it,” Blandine says. Says Monica: “You’re making me cry.”