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Undoubtedly, it’s the most intimate experience of all. So what would make any woman agree to give birth to another woman’s child? Last month, Jennifer Scott-Hitchcock gave birth to Archie, before handing him to his biological parents, Jane and Gary, a couple in their 30s from the Orkneys.
Here, Jennifer, 30, a mother-of-two from Kirkcaldy, Fife, who is married to Justin, 35, a civil servant, shares the diary of her surrogate pregnancy — her third — and gives a glimpse into a hidden world of joy, pain and extraordinary self-sacrifice . . .
Surrogate mother Jennifer Scott-Hitchcock (left) with baby Archie , 3 weeks old, and new mother Jane (right)
December 2012
I’ve just told Justin that I’m ready to be a surrogate again. It’ll be my third time in three years and it hardly came as a surprise to him.
We’ve talked of little else these past few months. He just smiled, and said he’d be with me all the way.
You might wonder that he agreed so easily. But, trust me, it’s taken a long time for him to be so accepting.
When I first broached the idea of surrogacy five years ago, he was horrified and forbade me from even considering the idea.
He imagined, as many people do, a backstreet trade in babies. Something murky, immoral, heartless even. He didn’t understand how any woman could give away the baby she’d given birth to. Almost everyone I talk to says the same thing.
Surrogate sisters: Jennifer (right) and Jane (left). Jennifer says that helping another women fulfill her dreams as a mother is the ultimate high
Yet my sister says she always knew I’d be a surrogate. She remembers me, aged just seven, saying I’d have a baby for anyone who couldn’t have one of their own.
I’m not quite sure what prompted my youthful thoughts, but I do know that I’ve always loved children.
Indeed, I have two children from my first marriage: Ellie, who’s 11, and eight-year-old Cael. When I met Justin, he had three children of his own, so we both agreed we didn’t want any more. Five was quite enough for any couple to cope with.
Strangely, however, although I felt ‘done’ with childrearing, I just didn’t feel that way about pregnancy.
I adore being pregnant; the buzz starts from the moment I see the blue line on the test. If I am being honest, I would say it’s almost like an addiction.
Jennifer Scott-Hitchcock (left) carried baby Archie, 3 weeks old. He is the biological child of Jane and her husband Gary
It took a year for me to convince Justin to allow me to become a surrogate, and I’m so glad he came to see my point of view.
Finally, he can understand what a difference I can make to people’s lives — people who hadn’t been so fortunate as us, with our five, happy, healthy children between us.
Surrogacy is not, and never could be, a ‘career’ for me. I cannot, by law, be paid for what I do, unlike in America. It remains a compassionate, not commercial, act in the UK and I think that is right.
The baby’s parents reimburse me for any expenses, like maternity supplies and the cost of travelling to appointments (which would rarely amount to more than a couple of hundred pounds), but there’s no reward beyond the satisfaction I get from helping them.
Jennifer Scott-Hitchcock (left) has helped three women like Jane (right) become parents through surrogacy
When I gave birth to my first surrogate baby in 2010, it was one of the proudest moments of my life. I’d had a blissful pregnancy and had no regrets as I handed the baby to her ecstatic and grateful mother and father.
We’d met them through COTS — an online community for surrogates and ‘intended parents’ (the name given to the resulting baby’s biological mum and dad) and had got to know them well.
Such was my elation, the overwhelming buzz of giving someone such a huge gift, I barely paused for breath after giving birth before finding a second couple to help. Their son was born in 2011.
Some people wonder whether it’s fair on my children to give so much of my time and energy to someone else’s child.
But, thankfully, Ellie and Cael are thrilled by the whole process. As a family, we pull together and make people’s dreams come true. Rightly, they’re proud of that.
And here we are, ready to do it all again. I cannot wait.
Baby Archie's parents Jane and Gary were heartbroken when travel problems made them miss his birth
February 2013:
Implantation Day
I’m in Glasgow, in the same clinic I’ve used for my previous two surrogacies, ready for embryo implantation.
I’m doing this for Jane and Gary, a couple from Orkney, whom again we met through COTS. Unable to have children naturally, they already have a little girl, born by a surrogate two years ago, and are desperate for another.
Both Justin and I have spent a long time getting to know them, with plenty of dinners and chats on the phone. I think it’s important we have a bond before we decide whether to embark on this incredible adventure. Today, they feel like old friends.
I texted Jane to confirm we’d decided to help them. We had a very emotional phone call soon after — she wept, racking great tears of relief. But through the sobs, there was a real feeling of excitement. We were like a pair of little kids.
Because Jane and Gary had embryos left over from their last treatment, the whole process has been simple. I took drugs to thicken my womb lining, then, when the time was right, the embryos were defrosted and implanted through my cervix.
Now it’s just a question of all four of us keeping our fingers crossed.
It’s a delicate stage in our relationship. You have to be very considerate of the parents’ feelings at this stage — the smallest thing may upset them. Just complaining about a cramp could send them into a panic.
Jennifer (right) says she hasn't ruled out being a surrogate again, but says that this pregnancy was the hardest yet
And falling out is not an option once a baby’s on its way. Before our treatment began we had to iron out the details of our arrangement with the help of an agreement drawn up by the agency.
Some couples don’t want to see their surrogate after the baby’s born. Some surrogates don’t want to see the babies. You need to be compatible.
I don’t want to let go completely. I like to be kept up-to-date with the occasional email or photo. We’re Auntie Jen and
Uncle Justin, not too involved but not forgotten. That’s what suits us and all the couples we help.
Week 1
Yesterday was Mother’s Day, so I did an early pregnancy test. The suspense was agony. I was so disappointed when it came up negative. But I tested again this morning and I’m thrilled to say, I am pregnant. Jane and Gary were over the moon when I rang them and so are we all.
When I told Ellie the news she said: ‘Mum, I think it’s a wonderful thing you do.’ I asked if she might do the same when she’s older, half-hoping she might have caught the same maternal bug I had. ‘No way!’ she said, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘It all sounds WAY too painful!’
Jennifer (left) knew that baby Archie was a boy when she saw the scan, but waited until the sonographer told Jane and Gary because she didn't want to spoil their special moment
Week 2
Jane and Gary travelled from Orkney for the first scan at the clinic, and we all saw the flicker of a heartbeat. The due date is November 20 and all is well. So begins a new chapter.
They’re hoping to come down for every scan. I didn’t dare point out it’s more than 300 miles to the Orkneys, and it takes at least six hours to get here. Flights are limited and there aren’t any boats after 6pm. I’ll try to bear that in mind when I go into labour. It would be awful if they missed the birth.
Week 12
I might be a bit of a pro at surrogacy, but I don’t remember a first trimester this hard. I’m utterly, utterly drained. I have no energy at all, which has made it hard at home with two busy children to look after. But seeing Jane’s reaction at today’s 12-week scan was exactly the boost I needed.
I beamed when I looked at the little speck on the screen, but when I glanced at Jane, tears sprang to my eyes, for rivers of tears were streaming down her face. This was her baby, after all. She was full of questions about its health, but all looks well.
Jennifer says that her husband Justin is behind her being a surrogate every step of the way
On a more practical note, I’ll need to let work know soon. This is my first pregnancy in my new job as an NHS phlebotomist.
A lot of people don’t realise that surrogates have the same rights to maternity leave, before and after the birth as if they’d been carrying their own baby. Paid maternity leave — but without the sleepless nights. There are definitely some compensations to surrogacy!
In my old retail job, several colleagues said it was unfair that I was being paid to stay at home. Of course, I could see their point. But what would they have done in my shoes? I took full advantage of my maternity rights and loved every minute of it.
Week 16
The last month has been tough. On top of the usual sickness and a few fainting episodes, I’ve been floored by a serious kidney infection. Pregnant women are particularly susceptible, but I’ve never had one before. Despite huge doses of antibiotics, I’ve been in and out of hospital.
I’ve been keeping Jane and Gary up to date, but it can be hard knowing what I should tell them. I don’t want to worry them unnecessarily, but if there’s something that could affect the pregnancy, it’s their right to know.
I can also see that they’re feeling a little guilty to hear I’m suffering so much, but to be a surrogate you have to be the sort of woman who thinks ‘What’s a few days of pain or a few weeks of morning sickness, when you can make a family for life?’.
I’m always telling Justin he has to see the bigger picture, too. Despite this, he says his first concern is always me, and not the baby. Understandable, I guess: it’s hard for him not to worry about what I’m putting myself through.
And while I’m always upbeat, at my sickest I did feel pretty low. But then the baby gave me a few good kicks as if to say, ‘You’re not alone. Pull yourself together!’ I did. I have to, after all.
Week 20
It’s a boy! I could tell as soon as I saw him on the screen — I’ve seen enough scans to be something of an expert — but I kept quiet until the sonographer broke the news to Jane and Gary. I think it’s important not to intrude too much.
Although we’re all in this together, I try to make it feel as much like their pregnancy as possible.
They always said they wouldn’t mind a boy or a girl, but I think they are especially pleased to have a complete set.
They’re going to call him Archie, a sweet name.
That rush of maternal love and possessiveness, which I got instantly with my two, is just not there. It’s difficult to explain to anyone who hasn’t done this, but the emotions involved are very different when you are carrying someone else’s child. Of course, knowing the baby and I aren’t biologically related helps me to keep my distance, although obviously it’s the most intimate act of all.
After the scan we popped to the shops to look at a few baby things. I saw a lovely teal blue pram which I thought would be perfect for a little boy, but they’re set on a red one. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that these are not your decisions.
Week 22
I had the fright of my life earlier today when I started to bleed heavily. I’ve never bled during any of my previous pregnancies. My first thought was for the baby, of course, but a dash to the hospital and a scan later set my mind at ease.
He’s doing just fine, but the bleeding was caused by placenta praevia, which means my placenta is lying low over the neck of the womb. If it doesn’t move out of the way, I’ll be heading for a caesarean — my second. I can’t get Justin’s concerned expression out of my mind. I know he’s very worried about me, but we have to get on with the business of having someone else’s baby.
The second I knew the baby was OK, I called Jane. She is worried for me, as a friend, of course — she knows I don’t relish the thought of surgery — but her overwhelming concern is what this means for her baby.
It doesn’t help that I’m due to go on holiday to Spain next week. I’ve promised Jane I’ll stay in close contact and take it very easy. I desperately need a holiday, but this scare has made me nervous. Given that I don’t speak the language and surrogacy is illegal in Spain, I hope I don’t need to see a doctor when I’m there.
week 30
I’m starting my maternity leave. It’s early, but this pregnancy has been the toughest yet. It’s time to really look after myself, and the baby boy I am responsible for.
I met his grandma and his great-auntie at the 28-week scan, as Jane brought them with her. My kids were there too, and everyone waved ‘hello’ when he appeared on the screen.
A fantastic moment, it brought home how much surrogacy touches the lives of everyone involved. It’s not just about me, and the baby’s parents. And, great news, the placenta has shifted, which means I’m all set for a natural birth.
35 weeks 2 days
At 6.30pm last night my waters broke, just after I’d got into the bath. Excitedly, I called Jane and Gary to let them know we were heading to the hospital.
They were thrilled, but their high emotions were rather tempered because they were almost certain to miss the baby’s birth. There were no boats or flights until morning. I felt so sorry for them.
When they wheeled me into theatre, Justin was by my side and he was the first to hold little Archie, who weighed 6lb 8oz — which is a good weight, considering he’s a month early. I was offered skin-to-skin contact but declined.
It simply is not my place to do this. It is such an intimate bonding experience between a mother and her child, I would feel like I was trespassing. I have to remain aware of the boundaries.
But I truly believe I’ve managed to train myself out of feeling like a mother in moments like this. Despite having just given birth to him, he felt like someone else’s baby and I had no inclination to breastfeed him.
For Jane and Gary, the agony of missing his birth was prolonged by a nightmare journey from Orkney. Their flight was cancelled, so they didn’t meet Archie until hours later.
As I handed him to Jane, we both wept. Between my rush of hormones and her ecstasy, it wasn’t long until the trauma of the last few hours faded. Helping another woman fulfil her dreams as a mother is the ultimate high.
The question I’m asked most often is ‘why?’ ‘Why would you carry another woman’s baby?’ But anyone who has children knows they are the greatest gift.
And as a healthy young woman, I can turn a desperate couple into a happy family. So, for me, the question has always been: why wouldn’t I?
But while my head and heart are still committed to surrogacy, perhaps my body isn’t. This pregnancy and birth were the hardest yet. Deep down, I know that I can’t go on having babies for ever.
But, just one more? I’ll never say never. The need for me to have babies, even if they’re not my own, is deep-rooted.
I know we will all — as a family — be sorry to see the day that surrogacy is no longer a part of our lives. But we have achieved so much for those we’ve helped, and that will stay with us for ever.
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