I became a surrogate mother for my sister and her husband — but when they saw the baby, they cried out, ‘This is not the child we were expecting!’
What do you do when love becomes conditional? When the child you carried as a surrogate mother is suddenly declared ‘unwanted’? Abigail experienced this pain when her sister and husband, upon seeing the baby girl she had just given birth to for them, cried out, ‘THIS IS NOT THE BABY WE WERE EXPECTING. WE DON’T WANT HER.’
I have always believed that love is what makes a family. When we were children, Rachel was more than just my little sister. She was my shadow, my confidante, my other half. We shared everything: clothes, secrets, dreams… and the unshakeable certainty that one day we would raise our children together. But fate had other plans for Rachel. Her first miscarriage broke her.
I stayed with her all night while she cried in pain. The second miscarriage extinguished the light in her eyes. The third… something in her finally broke. She stopped talking about children, stopped seeing her friends who had babies, and even stopped coming to my sons’ birthday parties.
It hurt me to see her drift away, piece by piece.
I remember the day everything changed. It was my son Tommy’s seventh birthday, and my other boys — Jack (10) and Michael (8) and little David (4) — were running around the garden in superhero costumes.
Rachel stood motionless at the kitchen window, watching them with such intense longing that my heart ached.
‘They’re growing…’ she whispered, pressing her palm against the glass. ‘I keep thinking about how our children should have grown up together. Six IVF attempts, Abby. Six. The doctors said I couldn’t have any more…’ She couldn’t finish.
Then her husband, Jason, stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder.
‘We talked to the specialists. They recommended surrogacy.’ He looked at me with a heavy gaze. ‘They said a biological sister would be ideal.’
The kitchen fell completely silent, broken only by the distant cries of my children from the street. Rachel turned to me, her eyes filled with hope and fear.
‘Abby… would you…’ she began, then paused, gathering her courage. ‘Would you agree to carry our child? I know I’m asking the impossible, but you’re my only hope. My last chance to become a mother.’
My husband Luke, who had been silently unloading the dishwasher, straightened up.
‘A surrogate mother? That’s a huge decision. We all need to discuss this seriously.’
That evening, after the children had gone to sleep, Luke and I lay in bed whispering.
‘Four boys is a lot,’ he said, stroking my hair. ‘Another pregnancy, the risks, the emotional strain…’
‘But every time I look at our sons,’ I replied, ‘I think of Rachel watching from the sidelines. She deserves this, Luke. She deserves to feel the joy we feel.’
The decision wasn’t easy. But when we said yes, and Rachel and Jason’s faces lit up, all doubts disappeared.
‘You’re saving us…’ Rachel sobbed, hugging me. ‘You’re giving us everything.’
The pregnancy brought my sister back to life. She went to all the appointments, painted the nursery herself, and talked to my rounding belly for hours. My boys were thrilled too, arguing over who would be the best cousin.
‘I’ll teach her baseball!’ Jack declared.
Michael insisted that he would read her bedtime stories. Tommy promised to share his collection of superhero figurines, and little David just stroked my belly and said,
‘My friend is in there.’
And then it was time to give birth. The contractions came in waves, getting stronger and stronger, but Rachel and Jason were nowhere to be found.
Luke paced back and forth across the room, his phone pressed to his ear.
‘They’re still not answering,’ he said, anxiety etching wrinkles around his eyes. ‘This isn’t like them.’
‘Something must have happened,’ I gasped between contractions. ‘Rachel wouldn’t miss this. She’s wanted this for so long…’
The hours dragged on in a fog of pain and fear. The doctor’s calm voice guided me through each contraction, and Luke’s hand kept me grounded in reality.
And then, cutting through the exhaustion, there was a cry — loud, stubborn, beautiful.
‘Congratulations,’ the doctor smiled. ‘A healthy girl!’
She was perfect: dark curls, lips like a rosebud, tiny fingers clenched into fists. Holding her in my arms, counting her fingers and toes, I felt the same wave of love I had felt with each of my children.
‘Your mummy will be so happy, princess,’ I whispered, kissing her on the forehead.
Two hours later, quick footsteps in the corridor announced the arrival of Rachel and Jason. But the joy I expected to see on their faces was replaced by something else. Something that froze my heart.
Rachel’s gaze froze on the baby, then darted to me, wide with horror.
‘They told us at the reception. THIS IS NOT THE BABY WE WERE EXPECTING,’ she blurted out in a trembling voice. ‘WE DON’T WANT HER.’
The words burned like poison.
‘What?’ I whispered, instinctively pulling the baby closer to me. ‘Rachel… what are you saying?’
‘It’s a girl,’ she replied dryly, as if that were enough. ‘We wanted a boy. Jason needs a son.’
Jason stood frozen in the doorway, his face contorted with disappointment.
‘We thought, since you have four boys…’ He fell silent, clenching his jaw, then turned and walked out without another word.
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Luke’s voice trembled with rage. ‘This is your child. Your baby. The one Abby carried for nine months. The one you’ve dreamed of for years.’
‘You don’t understand… Jason said he’d leave me if I brought home a girl,’ Rachel explained. ‘He said his family needed a boy to carry on the line. He gave me a choice: him… or…’ She waved helplessly towards the baby.
‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ I asked.
‘You had four healthy boys, Abby. I didn’t think it was necessary…’
‘So you’d rather give up your own daughter?’ The words burst out of me like an explosion. ‘This innocent child who did nothing but be born a girl? Where is my sister, the one who always said love makes a family?’
‘We’ll find her a good home,’ Rachel whispered, unable to look me in the eye. ‘An orphanage… or someone who wants a girl.’
The baby stirred in my arms, her tiny hand clutching my finger. Rage and protective instincts exploded inside me.
‘GET OUT!’ I shouted. ‘Get out of here until you remember what it means to be a mother. Until you remember who you are!’
‘Abby, please!’ Rachel reached out, but Luke stood in front of her.
‘You heard her. Go. Think about what you’re doing. About who you’re becoming.’
The next week was a whirlwind of emotions. My boys came to meet their cousin, their eyes full of innocence.
Jack, the older one, looked at her with fierce protectiveness.
‘She’s so cute,’ he said. ‘Mum… can we take her home?’
At that very moment, looking at that tiny, perfect face, something powerful and unyielding crystallised within me. I made a decision instantly: if Rachel and Jason couldn’t see beyond their prejudices, then I would adopt this girl.
This precious creature deserved more than a bed in a shelter, more than being rejected because of something as trivial as her gender. She deserved a family that would love her. And if her parents weren’t capable of that, then I would do it.
I already had four wonderful sons… and there was room in my heart for one more child.
Days passed. Then, one rainy evening, Rachel appeared at our door. She was different. She seemed smaller, yet stronger at the same time. The wedding ring was no longer on her finger.
‘I made the wrong choice,’ she said, looking at little Kelly, who was sleeping peacefully in my arms. ‘I let his prejudices poison everything. In the hospital… I chose Jason because I was afraid of being alone… afraid of failing as a single mother.’
Her fingers trembled as she reached out and touched Kelly’s cheek.
Tears streamed down her face.
“I told Jason I wanted a divorce. He said I was choosing “mistake” over our marriage. But looking at her now… she’s not a mistake. She’s perfect. She’s my daughter. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for those terrible first hours.
‘It won’t be easy,’ I warned her. But Rachel kept her eyes fixed on Kelly’s face.
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘Will you help me? Teach me how to be the mother she deserves?’
Looking at my sister — broken but determined, frightened but brave — I saw in her once again the girl who had once shared every dream with me.
‘We’ll get through this together,’ I promised. ‘That’s what sisters do.’
The next few months were difficult… and wonderful at the same time.
Rachel moved into a small flat nearby and threw herself into motherhood with the same determination she had once devoted to her work. My boys became Kelly’s fierce protectors: four ‘big brothers’ at heart who adored their little cousin with boundless enthusiasm.
Tommy taught her to throw a ball before she could walk. Michael read her fairy tales every day after lunch. Jack proclaimed himself her personal bodyguard at family gatherings, and little David followed her everywhere with devoted love.
Looking at Rachel and Kelly today, it’s impossible to imagine those chaotic beginnings. The way she glows when Kelly calls her ‘Mummy,’ the bright pride in her eyes with each new achievement, the patient tenderness with which she combs her dark curls… it’s like watching a flower bloom in the middle of the desert.
Sometimes at family gatherings, I catch Rachel looking at her daughter with a mixture of love and regret.
‘I can’t believe I was ready to throw it all away,’ she whispered to me once as we watched Kelly running around the garden with her cousins. ‘I can’t believe I let other people’s prejudices blind me to what was really important.’
‘What was important,’ I replied, ‘was that at the crucial moment, you chose love. You chose her.’
Kelly may not have been the child my sister and her ex-husband expected… but she became something much more valuable: a girl who taught us that family is not about living up to expectations or fulfilling other people’s dreams. It’s the ability to open your heart wide enough for love to surprise you, change you… and make you better than you ever imagined you could be.
