I never thought in a million years that I’d become a surrogate.

After going through all my own maternities and labors, you’d think I was crazy to volunteer to be pregnant again and for a stranger. But I did and I followed through, giving a family their most precious gift on earth, their child. I made that happen and still feel so good that I did it.


The beginning: How Surrogacy found me


Motherhood has a way of shaping us in places we never expected. It teaches us joy, grief, resilience, and love that stretches further than we thought possible. My own journey began with laboring and delivering my daughters. My maternity with my girls was rough but worth it. I was sick everyday and was a stick with the belly the size of a plump beach ball. I documented all my maternities and even photographed my labors (which I so hope other mothers consider). In between my girls, I had my son. The maternity was cut short due to having low fluid, which caused me to deliver him at 38 weeks. He was beautiful and born with Down Syndrome and a few other complex medical issues. After spending weeks and weeks living on the NICU and PICU floors of the hospital by his side, I brought him home, held him, loved him intensely with his sister. But then we lost him at a day shy of seven weeks old. His loss has reshaped me and my daughter in ways I’m still discovering to this day. I miss him and crave holding him.

I never imagined that part of my healing would include carrying and delivering a baby for another family and then let them go without me. Yet somehow, in my quietest moments and in the most unexpected way, surrogacy became part of my healing journey.

I want to share that journey here not because it was perfect or easy but because it reminded me of how deeply motherhood connects us all. Whether through birth, adoption, surrogacy, or loss, our stories weave together like threads of a blanket of love and sacrifice.


The preparation for surrogacy:


Surrogacy wasn’t just an emotional commitment, it was also a physical one. Preparing my body meant real changes like having to gaining weight, build muscle and strength, and shaping my lifestyle around what would give this baby the best “home” until they were born. I worked with a personal trainer who helped tailor my workouts to help me gain healthy weight and muscle, work on my core strength and get my eating back on track.

It was a lot of hard work. After losing my father and my son, I gave birth to a rainbow baby and shortly after that my divorce started and my family was crumbling before my eyes. Mentally and physically, I started to wither away to what felt like almost nothing. I had to work hard to eat more, gain more muscle, and make sure I was okay mentally. Some days, it was a real challenge.

My goal was to shift my diet towards a more mediterranean based with no caffeine. Though I’ll admit, I thought I’d truly suffer without coffee but it wasn’t all that bad and my hair and skin looked great because of it. A hearty Ribeye steak with heafty greens and potatoes was a meal I leaned on heavily to help me gain healthy weight and it didn’t hurt that it always tasted delicious. Even down to the smallest details like organic skin care, toothpaste, no dyes or harsh chemicals, were a few things I did to be more mindful of the fact that I was the home for this surrogate baby and I needed to do my very best to provide the best environment for the baby and to also give the surrogate parents ease in knowing I was dedicated to giving their child the best. Every adjustment reminded me of the responsibility and privilege of carrying a child for someone else. 

Balancing loss and giving life:


Some people ask me if the surrogacy process was hard for me emotionally, given that I had lost my own infant son. A lot of people asked that question prior to me knowing the gender of the baby. Most were worried that I wouldn’t be able to give them their child if it was a boy, considering I lost my own.

In truth, it wasn’t as complicated as many imagine. My loss had already forced me to learn to disassociate. If I hadn’t, every newborn named Oliver (my sweet sons name), every rainbow baby, every storyline in a show would have broken me. 

My ability to separate my story from others was how I was able to handle the surrogacy. There were small phrases I kept telling myself until I was finished: this wasn’t my baby. This baby needs my dedication and commitment. This moment is helping a family feel complete.

I didn’t grieve my son when the surrogate baby was born. The truth is, I didn’t feel loss. I felt clarity; awe; true happiness. My role was to help the surrogate baby arrive safely, place them in their parents arms and that’s exactly what I did.

The support that carried me:


I wasn’t alone in this journey. The intended mother was supportive from start to finish and so wasn’t her spouse and the entire family. We did keep things like my identity a secret to some of her family to allow me some peace during and after the surrogacy. Not having to shield or answer a ton of questions from their family was important to us both. I felt safe with her father who was actually born in upstate New York. One thing I love and felt comfort in was connecting with a fellow New Yorker. He’s knowledgable, comforting, and was willing to go to bat for me should anything have happened. 

My own support system, my sister, my mom and even my kids, all stood by me once I made the decision. The day I found out I was pregnant, I messaged them and even though it was a little weird to congratulate me for the pregnancy, it was still something really unique to experience and their support was beyond important to me. 

Witnessing a family being born 


By the time that I met the family in person, we already knew each other so well that it felt like meeting up with a friend. It was a little surreal from getting admitted to Pitocin to help the labor progress, watching and feeling myself go from being pregnant with the largest baby I had personally carried to watching two people become parents and holding their child for the first time; something they had been dreaming of for years and years. 

Before and after, I did dedicate time to providing milk to the baby. I allowed for the intended parents to be in the labor and delivery room to watch their child be born. I allowed for the parents to be in the same recovery room with me while I was nursing their baby. I committed to nursing the baby because I knew it was truly what was best for everyone! (As a mother you may remember that pain in your chest should you have milk come in). The nursing staff was wonderful and was truly team ME, the one delivering the baby. Though this was surrogacy, this was still my labor and it was their jobs to make sure that I was okay first. Once I delivered their beautiful baby, and after their joyous thank you’s and tears, they got to finally become a family and leave the hospital with their child.  

Reflection and healing


When people call me a gift, an angel, or say I’ve done the greatest thing, I still struggle to accept it. For me, it wasn’t a miraculous epiphany. I didn’t walk away with some life change wisdom. What I did was walk away with a deep sense of certainty. I knew from the beginning what I was getting in to and I stayed grounded in that. I truly believe that helped me throughout the entire experience and enough to strengthen me to watch them walk away with a child I had just delivered. 

After delivery, my recovery looked much like it did with my own babies. I had to rest, heal, and slowly return to my normal self. I was able to pump and store milk for the family for a while which felt like a final act of care. What I had left, I was able to donate. Then, just like any birth, life moved forward. They went home with their child and I went home with my family and it was all complete. 

A personal letter – a thank you for reading –

To the mothers reading this: I know that each of us carry our own mix of joy, ache, and love. The ways we love, the ways we give, the ways we endure truly matters. Wether you are holding your baby today, waiting for your baby tomorrow, or grieving the one(s) you couldn’t keep, your story belongs here too. 

With so much love,
Kattie