I Became a Surrogate for My Sister & Her Husband — When They Saw the Baby, They Yelled, ‘This Isn’t the Baby We Expected’
When love becomes conditional, what do you do? When the surrogate child you carried in your womb is declared “unwanted”? When Abigail’s sister and husband saw the baby she had given birth to for them, they cried out, “THIS ISN’T THE BABY WE EXPECTED,” and Abigail had to deal with the pain. WE DO NOT WANT IT.
Love creates a family, I’ve always thought. Rachel was more than simply my younger sister as I was growing up. She was my confidante, my other half, and my shadow. Clothes, secrets, dreams, and an unwavering faith that we would one day raise our children together were all things we had in common. But Rachel’s destiny was different. She was devastated by her first miscarriage.
She cried with sorrow, and I held her through the night. The light in her eyes faded after the second miscarriage. Something in Rachel changed by the third. She stopped attending my boys’ birthday parties, stopped talking about babies, and stopped going to see friends who had kids.
Watching her fade away, piece by piece, was painful.
I can still recall the day that everything changed. My older boys, Jack (10), Michael (8), and tiny David (4), were running around the lawn dressed as superheroes for my son Tommy’s seventh birthday celebration.
It was painful to see Rachel’s eyes as she stood at the kitchen window, watching them with such longing.
Whispering, “They’re getting so big,” she pressed her hand to the glass. “I’m constantly considering how our children were meant to grow up together. Abby, six IVF cycles. 6. Doctors stated I can’t do that anymore. She was unable to complete the phrase.
Jason, her husband, came forward at that moment and put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “We have been speaking with experts. They proposed surrogacy. He gave me a serious look. “They said a biological sister would be ideal.”
The only sound in the kitchen was the distant screams of my kids playing outside. With fear and hope battling in her eyes, Rachel turned to face me. Gathering her bravery, she began, “Abby, would you…” and then stopped. “Will you think about bearing our child? I realize that I’m asking for too much, but you are my only hope. My final opportunity to become a mommy.
After silently loaded the dishwasher, my husband Luke stood up. “A substitute? It’s a significant choice. We ought to have a proper conversation about this.
Luke and I lay in bed that night, whispering to each other after the boys had gone to sleep. His words, “Four boys is already a handful,” were directed at my hair. “Another pregnancy, the risks, the emotional toll —”
“But every time I look at our boys,” I said, “I picture Rachel on the sidelines in the background.” Luke, she deserves this. She should be aware of our happiness.
Making the choice wasn’t simple, but it was all worth it when we saw Rachel and Jason’s smiles when we answered yes. “You’re saving us,” Rachel broke down in tears as she held on to me. “You’re giving us everything.”
It was the pregnancy that revived my sister. She spent hours conversing with my expanding tummy, decorated the nursery herself, and attended all of my appointments. My boys also joined in, debating who should be the best cousin.
Jack would say, “I’ll teach the baby baseball,” but Michael insisted on reading books to him before bed. When Tommy said he would share his superhero collection, young David just gave me a belly pat and said, “My buddy is inside.”
The moment has come for the baby to be born. There was still no sign of Rachel or Jason, and the contractions came in waves, each one more intense than the last.
Luke kept his phone close to his ear as he paced the room. “Still no answer,” he replied, his eyes etched with dread. “This isn’t like them.”
In between contractions, I exclaimed, “Something must be wrong,” Rachel would not overlook this. She has had it for too long and too much.
Hours flew by in agony and anxiety. Luke’s hand kept me grounded while the doctor’s calm voice led me through each push.
The cry then broke through the haze of fatigue: it was beautiful, forceful, and defiant.
“Congratulations,” the physician said with a smile. “You have a healthy baby girl!”
Her rosebud mouth, small fingers clenched into fists, and exquisite dark curls made her ideal. I felt the same rush of love I’d had with each of my boys as I cradled her and counted her flawless fingers and toes.
“Your mommy will be overjoyed, princess,” I muttered as I planted a kiss on her forehead.
Two hours later, Rachel and Jason arrived with a flurry of footsteps in the corridor. Something very else took the place of the happiness I had anticipated seeing on their faces. My heart stopped for something.
Rachel’s wide, horrified eyes moved from the baby to me. “At the reception area, the doctor basically informed us. She remarked, her voice trembling, “THIS IS NOT THE BABY WE EXPECTED.” “WE DON’T WANT IT.”
The words were poisonous. “What?” Instinctively, I drew the infant nearer as I said. “Rachel, what are you saying?”
She stated bluntly, “It’s a girl,” as though just three words were sufficient to describe everything. “We desired a boy. Jason is in need of a son.
Jason’s face was contorted with disappointment as he stood stiffly beside the door. He stopped and clenched his teeth, saying, “We assumed since you had four boys…” He turned and left without saying another word.
“Have you both lost your minds?” Luke’s voice shook with rage. “This is your daughter. Your kid. Abby carried that one for nine months. The one of which you have been dreaming.
“You’re not getting it. “If I brought a girl home, Jason said he’d leave,” Rachel clarified. According to him, his family needs a boy to continue the family name. him offered me an option: either him or…” She pointed at the infant helplessly.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I inquired.
“Abby, you gave birth to four boys who are healthy. It didn’t seem necessary to me to —”
“So you’d rather abandon your child?” The words tore out of my mouth. “This helpless infant who has done nothing wrong but be born a girl? My sister used to say that “love makes a family.” What happened to her?
“We’ll find her a good home,” Rachel said in a whisper, avoiding eye contact. “A shelter, perhaps. or a person who desires a girl.
The infant’s little hand wrapped around my finger as she stirred in my arms. Protectiveness and anger swept through me. I called out, “GET OUT!” “Leave until you recollect what motherhood is all about. Until you recall your identity.
“Abby, please!” Luke intervened when Rachel reached out.
“She was heard by you. Get out. Consider what you are doing. Consider the person you are becoming.
The following week was a whirlwind of feelings. With innocent smiles on their faces, my boys arrived to greet their cousin.
My eldest, Jack, gave the infant a fiercely protective expression. He proclaimed, “She’s adorable,” “Mom, can we take her home?”
Something powerful and unbreakable crystallized in my heart as I looked down at her flawless face. At that moment, I made my choice. I would adopt the child myself if Rachel and Jason were unable to look past their biases.
This priceless infant was worthy of more than a place to stay, more than being rejected because of something as trivial as gender. If her own parents were unable to provide her with the kind of family she deserved, I would.
I had place in my heart for one more handsome boy, and I already had four.
Days went by. Then Rachel showed up at our home one wet evening. She had changed appearance. Stronger, but somehow smaller. She had lost her wedding band.
She murmured, “I made the wrong choice,” as she held baby Kelly in my arms and watched her fall asleep. “I let everything to be tainted by his bias. I was afraid of being alone and of failing as a single mother, which is why I choose him that day at the hospital.”
She reached out to touch Kelly’s cheek, her fingers shaking. “But I’ve been dying inside, every minute, every single day, knowing my daughter is out there and I abandoned her.”
She broke down in tears. I informed Jason that I desired a divorce. I was making a mistake by choosing our marriage above it, he added. She’s not a mistake, though, when you look at her now. She is flawless. I will spend the rest of my life making up for those first awful hours because she is my daughter.
I cautioned, “It won’t be easy,” but Rachel’s gaze never left Kelly’s.
“I know,” she said in a whisper. “Are you going to assist me? How can I be the mother she deserves? Will you teach me?
I could see echoes of the girl who used to share all of her dreams with me when I looked at my sister, damaged yet driven, bold but afraid. “We’ll figure it out together,” I said promisingly. “That’s what sisters do.”
The following months were both difficult and lovely.
Rachel relocated to a modest apartment close by and threw herself into parenthood with the same tenacity she had displayed in her professional life. As four honorary big brothers who showered their infant cousin with unending love, my boys turned became Kelly’s staunch protectors.
Before she could walk, Tommy taught her how to throw a ball. Every afternoon, Michael read her stories. At family events, Jack positioned himself as her personal protector, while young David merely followed her about in awe.
You wouldn’t imagine their difficult beginnings when you saw Rachel and Kelly together now. She beams when Kelly calls her “Mama,” her eyes gleam with delight at every accomplishment, and she is patient and kind while plaiting Kelly’s dark curls. It is like to witnessing a flower bloom in a desert.
I occasionally see Rachel lovingly and regretfully observing her daughter during family get-togethers. She once muttered to me, “I can’t believe I almost threw this away,” when we were watching Kelly run around the yard after her relatives. “I can’t believe I let someone else’s prejudice blind me to what really matters.”
“What matters,” I informed her, “is that you chose love when it mattered most.” You selected her.
Despite not being the child my sister and her ex-husband had hoped for, Kelly turned into something even more valuable: the daughter who showed us all that family isn’t about living up to expectations or someone else’s fantasies. It involves letting love surprise you, transform you, and make you greater than you ever imagined you could be.
