It was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. Instead, I stood there, frozen, holding the tiny baby I thought they had been dreaming about for years — while they turned their backs and walked away without even looking back. “You think you’ve heard it all after nine years of marriage,” I used to say all the time.
That became my little motto. But then, one night, Mark, my husband, came to me with a question that shook my whole world. “Babe,” he said slowly, playing with the label on his beer bottle, “what would you think about being a surrogate for Liam and Sarah?”
I blinked at him, completely thrown off.
“You’re joking, right?”
Mark shook his head, his face serious in a way that made my heart race. The room fell into an awkward silence. Only the faint noise from the TV buzzed in the background.
I just sat there, staring at him, my mind trying and failing to catch up. Liam and Sarah were family — Mark’s brother and sister-in-law. We loved them.
They were always the fun ones at parties, the ones you wanted to hang out with. But this? Carrying their baby?
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Just… hear me out,” Mark pleaded, leaning toward me. His brown eyes looked desperate.
“They’ve tried everything, Mel. IVF didn’t work. Adoption is taking forever.
They’re completely crushed. You’ve seen it yourself.”
And he was right. I remembered seeing Sarah wiping her eyes quietly at Christmas when people passed around pictures of their new babies.
I remembered how Liam’s goofy jokes felt forced whenever someone announced they were pregnant. They were hurting — bad. Mark took a deep breath and continued.
“They said they would pay for everything — all the hospital bills, whatever you need. Plus…” He hesitated, like he was scared to say it. “They said they’d give enough money to cover Emma’s college fund.”
My heart squeezed.
Our daughter, Emma, was eight years old and already telling everyone she was going to be an astronaut. I knew college would cost a fortune. Giving her that chance made the decision even harder.
I didn’t say yes right away. Weeks went by. I cried.
I Googled everything I could about being a surrogate. I talked Mark’s ear off every night, going back and forth in my mind. Could I do this?
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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