I handed our surrogate the keys to our guest house, believing everything was under control. For days, everything felt normal. Then on the third night, I woke at 1:30 a.m., reached for my husband, and he wasn’t there.
The guest house lights were on, and what I saw through the window disturbed me. I want to be clear about something before I say anything else: I was not a suspicious wife. Callen and I had been through enough together.
Seven years of trying. Five pregnancies that didn’t make it. My doctor finally sat me down and gently explained that my body couldn’t carry a baby to term.
That my uterus had simply been through too much. So Callen and I chose surrogacy. We found Elena through an agency, a 29-year-old woman who was calm and straightforward in her intake interview and had a warmth about her that I noticed immediately.
We moved her into our guest house, which sat just across the yard from our back door, close enough that I could bring her dinner without it getting cold. ***
The first few days were entirely normal. Appointments, check-ins, and the quiet rhythm of two households sharing a yard.
Then, on the third night, I woke up at 1:30 a.m., reached across the bed for Callen, and found nothing but cool sheets. I lay there for a moment, fully awake the way you get when something feels immediately wrong. Then I noticed the light.
The guest house windows were fully lit across the yard, warm and bright against the dark. Something about it pulled me upright before I’d made a conscious decision to move. I crossed the yard in bare feet, the grass cold and slightly damp, and the closer I got to those lit windows, the quieter everything seemed.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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