An honest story of a woman who is torn between loved ones.
In the modern world, surrogacy is not considered something shameful. Many stars turn to him, for example, Bozena Rynska, Sarah Jessica Parker, Olga Slutsker, Robbie Williams and others. But have you ever wondered what surrogate mothers feel? We publish an anonymous column of a woman who gave birth to a child for her sister.
«My name is Katya. I am 27 and already have two children. I also have an older sister. Sveta 35, four years ago she got married for the second time. The first husband left her after learning that Sveta had cervical cancer.
Fortunately, the disease is in the past. Sveta successfully underwent surgery and is in complete remission. She is happy in a new marriage, but….
Without this damn “but” nowhere. Sveta’s husband himself comes from a large family. And he always dreamed that he would have at least three kids. And my sister, as you understand, cannot give birth to him herself.
Say, there is surrogacy. Agree. But in megacities, this may be simple. And we have a small town, everyone knows each other. Try again to find a surrogate mother, and then also withstand the looks, rumors and gossip. Yes, and there was no money to pay her.
Two and a half years ago, my sister came to me with an idea that seemed crazy to me. She invited me to give birth to a child for her.
“You are crazy? – I could hardly restrain myself so as not to yell at the Light. – How do you imagine it? Insemination? I’m injected with a syringe, I’m sorry, your husband’s sperm? Do you understand that in this case it will be his child? But not yours! I’m not sure my husband will like it. “
Sveta was silent, waiting for me to throw out my emotions. And then she calmly said:
“I froze the eggs.”
“You … what did you do?”
“I froze the eggs.”
It turned out that when Sveta was still in her first marriage and found out about the diagnosis, she and her ex-husband first discussed the possibility of becoming parents after treatment. Then Sveta went through this procedure without telling either her parents or me.
“You can be a surrogate mother,” my sister spoke calmly and confidently. She had already thought of everything. “Genetically, this child will have nothing to do with you. We will find money for the IVF procedure. And I have no better candidate. You are the closest person to me. You already have wonderful babies. Help me become a mom too. Become happy. “
I was shocked. No, no, and again no – I did it over and over again. But you have no idea what kind of pressure I was subjected to. Both she and her parents persuaded, begged, begged … almost on their knees.
My husband broke down first. After some time, I gave up too. You see, I love my sister very much and sincerely wanted to help her. She offered to take the baby from the orphanage, but Sveta flatly refused. I honestly said: I can’t fall in love, I need my own, dear.
I will not describe the medical procedures. I was lucky that one protocol was enough. Pregnancy was as easy physically as mentally difficult.
Yes, I was tuned in that it was someone else’s child. That I’m just an “incubator”, take it out – give it back.
At the first ultrasound scan, in order not to break down, I asked to turn the monitor away from me. My sister and her husband were looking at him.
And on the 15th week, I felt something that could not be confused with anything … The first movements. She ran to please her sister. And for half an hour we sobbed, hugging each other: she was from joy, and I from understanding: this is my third baby!
From that moment on, I lived like hell. I shouldn’t have talked to the baby, but I talked to him. I could hardly restrain myself so as not to push my sister, who lovingly stroked my belly. I became nervous and twitchy, but my condition was attributed to hormones. Nobody understood anything.
I went to give birth to the regional center. My sister got a little cold and was unable to attend the birth. I swear, upon learning of this, I even hatched an escape plan with the baby. It was only the presence of older children that stopped me, I’m not a cuckoo.
Everything went as well as it could have been. I asked not to put the baby on my stomach, not to put it on my breast (my sister, however, wanted me to feed the baby, but that was too much). I even smiled for the camera when Sveta and her husband solemnly posed for discharge with a white lace bag.
This was where my willpower ended. I would like to go far, far away so that I never see their happy faces. Only with this it was difficult. Moreover, we lived in neighboring houses, and I myself insisted on this at one time when my sister fell ill.
As you understand, Antosha – that was the name of my son (mine? Theirs? Ours?) – I see regularly. Sveta all the time asks me for help, for advice, as for a more experienced mother. I hold him in my arms, nurse, swaddle, help to bathe. And my heart is torn to pieces. He will start talking very soon. I don’t want to hear hysterical how he says “mom” to another woman, even if he is dear to me and beloved. And for him all my life I will be Aunt Katya, it is unlikely that he will ever know the truth.
I have no one to share this with. I carry pain in myself. I tried to talk to my mother, she did not understand: they say, she went for it, that you, your two are not enough. What a short memory she has! She no longer remembers how she persuaded, how she pressed on the sickest. Like, she would have endured, since I am so cruel, but the age is not the same.
And sometimes I dream that my sister has a relapse of oncology and my boy is now really only mine … “