This is a question I get reasonably often, along with its friends “I don’t think I could do that” and “I’m not sure I could give a baby away”. It’s surprisingly difficult to come up with an articulate answer.
If you look at gamete donation in general, there seems to be very little stigma involved in men donating sperm. In some countries, making a “deposit” at a sperm bank seems like a quick way to earn a buck without considering consequences. It’s a mostly anonymous process that depending on the laws in place could remain that way. In New Zealand, the sperm donor is recorded and it’s possible for the resulting children to request contact when they reach age.
Egg donation, weirdly, has a bit more stigma involved. First off, I suppose, it’s a more medically involved process. You can’t just lock yourself in a room with a dirty magazine and masturbate out an egg or two (oh, if only it was that easy). It’s medically risky for the donor as there are risks with the hyper-stimulation of ovaries to produce eggs. Plus, the procedure to extract them is described by various women I’ve spoken to as ranging from uncomfortable to excruciating.
In my case, I’m donating neither. The child currently gestating in my womb (I really hate that word) is not a genetic relation to me (although some of its DNA is currently travelling around my bloodstream). I’m sacrificing about a year of my life, the firmness of my abs (ok, stop laughing), and the possibility that complications could mean an end of my reproductive system, but that’s really the end of my commitment. And yet, perhaps it’s the time frame that makes it seem to some as a really big deal.
Yes, there are health risks for me. I’m a middle aged woman in my first pregnancy. Who knows how my body will react to this. Will I develop gestational diabetes? I’m at higher risk for blood pressure problems - pre-eclampsia is a real increased risk. While there are things I can do to mitigate some of the increase, the risks still exist. It’s not pleasant to think about, but one of the things I clarified with my lawyer was what if I die in childbirth without having signed the consent for the dads to adopt. So, why would I put my health at risk?
Well, first, I don’t want children of my own. By my own definition, I am “finished my family” because I have exactly as many children as I want. I know, though, that there are women and men out in the world who would give anything to be a parent but through the vagaries of biology are unable to. Generically, I’m not averse to helping those people.
Specifically, my friends - they’re wonderful people. They moved to New Zealand over a decade ago to live in a country where they could openly be together. They’ve made this country their home and I believe they’ve made the lives of the people they’ve welcomed into their world better. In fact, their friends are really their family. They are giving and amazing and they deserve having their dreams come true.
This isn’t the first time I offered to be a gestational surrogate. When they talked about having a family several years ago, I offered. Because of my age (even then), I wasn’t willing to play genetic Russian roulette. Fortunately, another friend was up to the challenge and she was a traditional surrogate for them, resulting in their wonderful daughter. When she offered to donate eggs this time around, I offered again to be a surrogate. The rest of that process I’ve already talked about.
When I talk about my motivations, I suppose there are things that I’ll never really be able to articulate in a way that other people will understand. There is the love I have for the dads. They’re amazing and I’m thrilled to help them build their family. There is the great science experiment - I love exploring all the weird and wonderful changes in my body. I’ve recently starting to feel flutters that I’m reasonably sure aren’t gas. That’s pretty rad.
What am I getting out of it? Well, nothing? Everything? Financially, nothing except maybe all the savings from my craft beer hiatus. Physically, stretch marks, an ever expanding cleavage, bizarre cravings for mashed potatoes and bizarre anti-cravings from time to time. Emotionally, the experience of making a new human, the extra love and understanding for what people go through to make their families, the delight that is hormones.
In the end, I guess I don’t have a firm answer on why I’m doing this. The best I can come up with is that it feels like the right thing to do.