My family and I live in a regular dorm. The room is small – only 20 squares. There is no way that my spouse and I can get together the right amount of money for housing. I am on maternity leave and do not work. I’ve been depressed about it lately. I’ve been withdrawn. The idea of an apartment for our family became an obsession. I was obsessed with the idea of having my own place. The idea of a fixer-upper.
One day, while surfing the Internet, looking for a suitable job, my eyes fell on an ad for surrogacy. And at that moment I thought, this is my chance. There was moral turmoil. Logic said that the child would be a stranger to me, but I would have to carry it in me.
I decided to talk to my husband, only he was clearly against it. I continued to persuade him. It took more than a month. I tried to prove to him how much in this idea the benefits. After a little hesitation, my husband agreed. And I started looking for a clinic with the right conditions. The search had many results. And all the offers were tempting. Finally I looked at one of them, which presupposed giving money to a surrogate throughout the pregnancy in parts. So I made up my mind. After all, an artificial pregnancy is not a real pregnancy.
I made some connections. I talked to the supervisor, gave my information, everything that was required. I also gave the number of my healthy children. No one told me at the time that surrogate mothers have a very hard time, both morally and health-wise. From the very beginning I was convinced that I was not going to have a baby growing inside me but just a creature. That I had nothing to do with. I went to the clinic, I took some tests and they gave me permission to participate in the program. Then I signed the documents and took the parents’ contacts.
They said in the contract that the clinic was not responsible for drugs and mother’s health. At that time I could only think that it was about vitamins or ordinary simple treatment. Only I was deeply mistaken. Hormonal medications in various forms began to enter my body. I endured it all. I put up with it.
The pregnancy was easy. Only at thirty weeks I was forced to move closer to the baby’s real parents. I didn’t see the kids for three months. That was the hardest part. When I went to my appointments, I overheard some talk about how babies could be born sick. Or not developing. I was worried about the baby. Even though he was adopted. His father and mother were worried, too. They were trying to control me. I was determined that the baby would have to be given away.
When it came time to give birth, it was difficult. The baby’s parents were allowed to be present. When he made his first sound, they took him away and never showed me again. Mentally it was difficult. I wanted to keep him and give all the money back. I had to sign a waiver for him. And carry it all in myself.
When I came home my spouse and children tried to surround me with care, affection, it gave me strength. I just kept thinking about where the baby was and what happened to him. And so every day. Now we could afford to buy a spacious apartment. But every year we celebrate the day the baby was born, thanks to which we had all this. And I’ve learned that it’s very complicated. Giving up a genetically alien baby is not easy. And I wouldn’t take that step again, even if they promised me a lot of money.
