My Husband Convinced Me to Be a Surrogate Twice, When He Paid His Moms Debt, He Left Me

I never realized I was selling my body until the money hit our account. Even then, I told myself it was love. That’s how deep the lie went.

Ethan didn’t force me. He didn’t raise his voice or threaten me. He simply held my hand while I signed the surrogacy papers and told me we were doing it “for us.” For our family. For our future. I believed him.

What I didn’t know was that “us” really meant “his mother.”

By the time I found out, I had carried two babies that weren’t mine — and lost everything that was.

When Ethan and I met in college, we looked like a couple built to last. I was a nursing student, he was earning his MBA. We married young, had our son Jacob at 29, and built a modest life together. We weren’t rich, but we had love, laughter, and plans.

Then his mother, Marlene, started calling every night. Her finances had collapsed after his father died — overspending, missed payments, bad loans. Ethan’s “we’ll help her for a while” turned into “we can’t stop now.” Every vacation, every birthday, every plan vanished into her bottomless pit of debt.

Still, I stayed quiet. Because that’s what love does — it teaches you to swallow your voice.

Then one evening, Ethan walked in with a look I knew too well — the one he wore when he was about to pitch something I wouldn’t like.

“I was talking to a coworker,” he said casually. “His cousin became a surrogate. Made sixty grand. Just like that.”

I laughed, thinking it was a joke. But he didn’t smile.

“Mel, if you did that — just once — we could pay off Mom’s mortgage. We’d finally be free. No more stress, no more guilt. You’d be doing something incredible — helping another family, helping ours.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You mean I’d carry someone else’s baby? For your mother’s debt?”

He shrugged, as if it were practical math. “It’s just nine months, Mel. Think of it as… giving life. And giving us a future.”Continue reading…