Twenty-five years ago, I agreed to become a surrogate for my closest friend and her husband after years of infertility had worn their hope thin. But this was not the kind of arrangement people usually imagine when they hear the word “surrogacy.” I was a traditional surrogate. The pregnancy used my own egg. Continue Reading ⬇️ Biologically, Bella was my daughter. Emotionally, she belonged to all of us in ways none of us fully understood at the time. When she was born, I placed her into her parents’ arms exactly as we had planned. I told myself love would make...
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