My husband worried I’d die. My sister asked if my organs would get harvested. My mom said I was being unfair to our family. And another relative asked, quite literally, how I was different than a prostitute. So, yeah. It’s safe to say that at first, my choice to become a surrogate—someone who gets pregnant for someone who can’t—wasn’t popular with the people in my life. Like, at all.
Let me set the scene: It was 2015, and I was 33 and making $40,000 as an overworked English teacher. My husband, Kyle, was trying to grow a small business, and we owed thousands of dollars in student debt. We kept downsizing, moving around to save money, but it was hard on us, my son, and our dogs. So after seeing an acquaintance who’d been a surrogate flash the keys to her new house in a Facebook photo, I started researching.
What I found seemed pretty straightforward: Most surrogates get pregnant via IVF, usually with the intended parents’ egg and/or sperm. If all goes well, the surrogate hands over the baby after giving birth. At the time, first-time surrogates were making between $20,000 and $30,000, on average, as base compensation. (FWIW, the range is around $40,000 to $60,000 today.)
That was life-changing money for us, and I knew myself—I’m pragmatic and I like a challenge. I’m good at regulating my emotions. I’d also been pregnant and given birth before (in high school, when I had my son), so I had an idea of what to expect. I contacted a surrogacy agency and, after a series of screenings, was matched with a couple in Australia who had two embryos and wanted twins. For carrying them, I’d make $28,000. I truly had no hesitation.
Convincing Kyle was another story. My son was already 6 when we met, so Kyle had never seen me pregnant. He felt weird about going through it together when the babies wouldn’t be part of our family. He was also concerned that I’d get too attached or develop postpartum depression. “Our life is good,” he said. “What if something goes wrong?”
He eventually came around—he trusted me and knew how much the money would benefit us—and I officially signed the surrogacy paperwork. That’s when I shared the exciting news with my family and…well, you know how that went.
It wasn’t just certain relatives who couldn’t understand my choice. Things became particularly fraught when my friends found out I was carrying for a gay couple, two wonderful dads I would come to love like family. Looking back, maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised. I was raised as a conservative Christian and our former core friend group was from church. One telling night at a dinner, when I was around six months pregnant, one of those “friends” wouldn’t even look at me. I tried to hug her, and she stepped away. No one stood up for me, and I felt humiliated. Later, over email, I asked if she was upset because the twins’ dads are gay. Her response was so hateful, it actually deconstructed my faith completely. I no longer go to church.
At the same time, my bonds with Kyle and my sister only strengthened. Her mindset was, “Alright, if you’re going to do this, how can I help?” Together, they came with me to appointments, helped me with IVF injections, and listened to my rants. Pregnancy can be hard, and being a surrogate can be taxing on your body and mind. Before that, I hadn’t experienced any of the complications that can come with having multiples, like preterm labor.
In early 2016, I delivered the twins via C-section, with Kyle and the babies’ dads in the room. Like all births, it was uncomfortable, exhausting, and emotionally draining. But it was also beautiful. When the first twin came out and started crying, we all did too. Seeing the new parents with their kids…it was a rare and precious moment to be a part of.
I know you’re probably wondering what everyone wonders: Did I get too attached to those babies? The answer is no. I knew from the beginning who their parents were and what my role was in helping them. I felt a sense of responsibility but not a maternal instinct. (I’ve talked to many surrogates since then, and they’ve all said the same thing.) I was proud of what I did, so much so that I decided to do it again.
I’m now a three-time gestational surrogate. I carried for another family both of the following times, in 2019 and 2021. The parents were an English teacher and her husband who couldn’t conceive on their own for health reasons. They reminded me so much of me and Kyle that I was excited to help them, and we’re still close.
As for my own family, I was prepared for any and all reactions the second time around. Luckily, I was met with support instead of shame (from most people, at least). By the third time, I swear no one even flinched. They were just like, “Oh, that’s just Sunshine being Sunshine. This is what she does.”
Kyle and I were so inspired by the entire process that we quit our jobs and founded the surrogate-centered advocacy firm Surrogacy Is in 2020. We started by pairing prospective surrogates with agencies and then advocating for those surrogates throughout their journeys. We’ve also since started our own agency, connecting surrogates with intended parents and providing both with support, advice, and mental health care. Surrogates never have to pay a dime for our services, and Kyle also talks to their partners, giving them the insight and assurance he wishes he’d had at the beginning.
My hope for anyone going through surrogacy is that they ultimately find what I did: an incredible new sense of self-respect and self-worth. I knew I would be a good surrogate, and I was right. I trust myself now more than ever. I used to agonize over what others thought about my decisions, but now, boundaries are my new best friends, and I make sure I’m surrounded by people who truly care for and support me. Best of all, I feel like I’m really making a difference in people’s lives, doing exactly what I was born to do.
Sunshine Hanson is a mother and three-time gestational surrogate based in Georgia. She is the cofounder and president of Surrogacy Is, a surrogate-centered advocacy firm, agency, and support platform.
