After three miscarriages, my husband and I turned to surrogacy and found Lisa, the woman who promised to give us the family we’d been fighting for. I had no idea she’d end up taking far more than she ever gave.
I’m Sarah, 30F, American. I was married to Greg, 32M.
For three years, our lives revolved around trying for a baby and losing it.
Pregnancy tests.
Blood draws. Three miscarriages.
We stopped saying baby names out loud out of paranoia.
My doctor finally sat me down and said, “Your embryos are fine.
Your body is just… tired. Surrogacy is an option.”
Greg squeezed my hand.
That’s how Lisa came in.
She was 24, bright-eyed, warm, said she’d always wanted to “help a couple become parents.”
We did everything right.
Contracts.
Lawyers. Counseling. Medical clearance.
The papers said it clearly: she was a gestational carrier.
The baby would be genetically mine and Greg’s.
Legally mine.
I read that line about ten times.
The embryo transfer worked.
Two weeks later, positive blood test.
I sobbed into Greg’s shirt in the clinic parking lot. He kept repeating, “We’re going to be parents.”
At first, Lisa was a dream.
She texted bump photos.
“Little bean is doing great, Mama,” she’d write.
She called me “Mama.” Called Greg “Dad.”
We went to ultrasounds together.
I watched my son’s heartbeat on the screen and whispered, “Stay. Please stay.”
Around eight months, things started to feel wrong.
Texts slowed down.
Calls went straight to voicemail.
“She’s exhausted,” Greg said.
“Third trimester.
Totally normal.”
I tried to believe him.
Then came the requests for money.
“Insurance is being weird about some tests,” she texted. “Can you send an advance? I’ll keep all receipts.”
I checked the contract.
Medical was already covered.
I showed Greg.
“It’s our baby,” he said. “We’re not going to nickel-and-dime her.”
So I wired it.
Then another “emergency.”
And another.
Each time I got this sick twist in my gut.
And each time Greg said, “She’s carrying our child, Sarah.
Be kind.”
So I kept sending money.
Then one afternoon, my phone rang.
“Lisa,” the caller ID said.
I smiled and answered. “Hey!
How are you feel—”
“Hi, Sarah!” she interrupted, way too cheerful.
“Big update!”
Something in her voice made my skin crawl.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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