I became a surrogate because I wanted to find a deeper purpose beyond being a mother to my own children. From the moment I decided to pursue this path, I knew in my heart it was the right choice. What a journey it has been—one filled with compassion, joy, and the incredible privilege of helping others achieve their dream of parenthood.
From the initial decision to take this leap to experiencing the most joyous, emotional, and challenging moments along the way, every step has been filled with hope and love. I’ve met the most wonderful people through this experience—not only an incredible agency but also the most kindhearted and loving Intended Parents. Becoming a surrogate has taught me so much about strength, selflessness, and the power of giving. It’s been a journey of self-discovery and profound connection, one that requires immense trust between all involved. Without that trust, this experience wouldn’t be what
it is.
I had the honor of being part of something much bigger than myself—witnessing miracles unfold. I feel more proud of myself than ever before, second only to raising my own children. I never worried about becoming attached to the baby because he was never mine to keep—I was simply here to help nurture him, to protect and love him for his parents. Instead, I became deeply attached to my IPs, who are now like family to me. I was just a small piece of their puzzle, one that is now complete—at least for now—and I couldn’t be more grateful. Without hesitation, I would do it all over again.
I am beyond thankful for the support that surrounded me throughout this journey, helping me bring a family’s dream to life.
My journey with my Intended Parents wasn’t easy. We connected instantly during our match, and I was thrilled to help them create their family. But the road was not smooth—the first transfer ended in miscarriage, the second failed, and finally, the third was successful. My pregnancy itself was uncomplicated, for which I was so grateful.
Then, at 35 weeks, I woke up at 3 a.m. to my water breaking. My heart sank. It was too early. I was anxious, fearing the baby might need time in the NICU or that something might be wrong. More than anything, I wanted my IPs to be there, but they were still thousands of miles away. It broke my heart knowing they wouldn’t make it in time for the birth.
I went to the hospital and was admitted right away. Sixteen hours later, at 8:56 p.m., their little boy entered the world. Though my IPs couldn’t be there in person, my husband FaceTimed them so they could witness the moment they had been waiting two years for. I was overwhelmed with pride—not only for bringing their son safely into the world but also for achieving my goal of a natural birth. To everyone’s relief, he was healthy and didn’t require any time in the NICU.
I stayed at the hospital with the baby until Sunday afternoon when his parents finally arrived. Some might think that spending all that alone time with him would have made saying goodbye harder, but I believe it helped. It gave me the time to process, to say my own goodbye, and to find closure with the tiny human I had spent eight months carrying, protecting, and nurturing.
For the next two weeks, after the baby was discharged, my IPs and I spent as much time together as possible. While we had been talking daily for two years, those moments in person meant infinitely more. That day, two families were created—one across the world and one right in their own home. Through this journey, they shared their love, their culture, and their deepest emotions with me. I will forever cherish them as part of my extended family.