When Jessica’s husband, James, asks her to be a surrogate for his brother’s fiancée, she agrees against her better judgement. However, as the pregnancy progresses, her doubts grow. The bride remains unavailable, every detail seems implausible, and when Jessica finally meets her, the truth shatters everything.
It all started when James, my husband of eight years, asked me to join him for a ‘family reunion’ with his mother, Diane, and younger brother, Matt.
I remember rolling my eyes as we drove to Diane’s house. There was always some kind of drama brewing in James’ family.
‘What is it this time?’ I asked James. ‘Your mum found another scratch on her precious china and decided it was my fault?’
James didn’t take his eyes off the road. ‘It’s something important, Jess. Just hear them out, okay?’
When we arrived, Diana greeted me with a typically stiff hug and led me into the living room. Matt nodded awkwardly, sitting down in a chair.
‘Jessica,’ Diana began, her voice taking on that syrupy tone she used when asking for a favour. ‘We have something special to ask of you.’
I looked at James, who was studying his hands.
Matt cleared his throat.
‘Jessica,’ Matt said, his voice trembling slightly. ‘I’m engaged.’
‘Congratulations,’ I replied, genuinely happy for him. ‘When can we meet her?’
Matt and Diane exchanged glances.
‘Um…I’m not sure exactly. She’s a wildlife photographer,’ Matt explained.
‘She’s in the Ethiopian highlands right now, trying to film Ethiopian wolves in the wild,’ he added. ‘And the mobile phone signal in the mountains is terrible.’
‘The thing is,’ Diana said, leaning forward, ’my future daughter-in-law has some health issues. She desperately wants children, but she can’t bear them herself.’
Three pairs of eyes stared at me intently, and I felt a creeping dread.
‘We were hoping,’ Matt said, ’that you could be a surrogate for us.
The request hung in the air. I looked at James, expecting him to be as shocked as I was, but his facial expression told me that he’d known all along.
‘You want me to carry your baby?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
‘Think about what it would mean for Matt,’ James said, squeezing my hand. ‘And the compensation will really help us and our children. We’ll be able to make a significant contribution to their college and renovate that kitchen you’ve been wanting.’
‘But your brother’s fiancée-’ I began. ‘Shouldn’t I at least talk to her first? It’s such a big decision.’
‘She’s totally on board,’ Matt quickly assured me. ‘We did IVF before she left and froze the embryos. All we need is a surrogate.’
‘But I haven’t even met her.’
‘She’ll be back in the States soon,’ Diane said, patting my knee. ‘You two will get along just fine, I’m sure.’
I felt trapped, surrounded by expectant faces.
James knew exactly what buttons to push: the future of our children, the arrangement of the house-all the things he knew mattered to me.
Despite the aching feeling in my gut, I nodded slowly. ‘I’ll do it.’
The next nine months passed in a series of doctor’s visits and growing discomfort.
Each trimester brought new problems: morning sickness that lasted all day, swollen ankles and back pain that kept me up at night.
James was supportive in his own way, rubbing my feet and reminding me how money would change our lives.
And yet something wasn’t right.
Matt visited us regularly, bringing vitamins and checking on the baby’s condition.
But his fiancée remained a mystery.
‘Has Matt’s fiancée called yet?’ I asked James one night as we lay in bed, my huge belly preventing me from finding a comfortable position.
‘She’s still travelling,’ James muttered, already half asleep.
‘Nine months already? Without a single phone call to the woman carrying her baby?’
James sighed and rolled over onto his back. ‘You’re stressing yourself out for nothing, Jess. It’s not good for the baby.’
‘For the baby,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Not me.’
As the delivery date approached, my anxiety grew.
I tried calling Matt directly.
‘When is your fiancée coming back? I’d really like to meet her before the birth.’
‘Soon,’ he promised. ‘She’s still in Ethiopia, trying to photograph some incredibly rare bird on the plains of Nechisar.’
I sighed. It seemed this woman was as impossible to grasp as the animals she photographed.
The day I went into labour, James drove me to the hospital and I clutched at the dashboard from the pain ripping through my stomach.
At the hospital, James held my hand during the initial checkup.
Soon Matt and Diane arrived. They rushed into the room, but I threw up my hand.
‘Out, both of you,’ I ordered them through clenched teeth. ‘This is too personal.’
‘Six centimetres,’ the nurse announced. ‘Moving right along.’
A few minutes later, James’s phone rang. He removed his hand from mine and checked the message.