What It Feels Like to Be a Surrogate

What It Feels Like to Be a Surrogate

It’s hard to explain the moment when you feel someone else’s dream flutter inside your body.

There’s this quiet shift that happens. It’s not all at once, and it doesn’t happen loudly. It happens at the most unexpected times.

Sitting in the car, waiting for a meeting with your kid’s teacher. 

Really, it’s a subtle recalibration of your life. You’re still you: mom to your own kids, juggling work and school pickups and the laundry that never ends. But now you’re also something else.

A temporary home. A vessel for a future that isn’t yours to keep.

It’s complicated.

People love to say, “You’re amazing!” or “What a beautiful gift!” And sure, those things are kind. 

But they miss the middle of it. 

The real of it. 

Being a surrogate is not about being selfless or angelic or any of those things people say when they don’t know what else to say.

It’s about being human.

It’s about waking up nauseous and bloated and going to your own child’s soccer game anyway. It’s about driving to appointments, sometimes alone, sometimes texting nervous parents afterward with updates like, “Heartbeat strong!” and trying not to cry at the sound of their relief.

It’s about holding both joy and distance at the same time. It’s about forming a bond with a baby whose name you might never speak aloud. It’s about celebrating their growth and life without envisioning yourself rocking them to sleep. 

Because that’s not your role. And you know that. 

You chose this. 

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

It’s a dance of boundaries. A delicate balance between allowing yourself to care deeply and knowing when to let go.

It feels like your body is doing what it was meant to do. You carry, protect, and nurture while reminding your heart that the child isn’t yours. You’re not dreaming of names or building a nursery. 

You’re building a bridge. Steady and strong, one month at a time.

Sometimes people ask, “How can you give the baby away?” 

That question stings, even if you understand it.

The truth is, the baby was never yours.

You don’t “give them away.” 

You give them back.

When you place that life into their arms, there is no better word for how you feel than full.

Not empty. Not broken. Not grieving.

Just... full.

You’re tired, yes. You’re changed. But most importantly, you’re full.

You look at the baby’s parent’s face. It’s sometimes stunned, sometimes sobbing, and you know. 

You were part of a miracle. Not in the sparkly, filtered, hashtag kind of way. But in the deeply human, messy, imperfect way. The real kind.

And then, you heal. You recover. You go back to your life.

And weekly (or however often you agreed to, but often, weekly), you remember.

A flutter. A heartbeat. A new photo on your phone. 

And you think: "I did that. I helped build that family."

Not because you wanted praise. Not because you wanted to be called a saint.

But because you could.

And because it mattered.

Thinking about becoming a surrogate?

You don’t have to be fearless—just open-hearted.

[Learn more about becoming a surrogate →]