The Wild West of Commercial Surrogacy

When Shoshannah Roberts mentions her four babies she has given away, she radiates warmth. "Those moments are still so magical," she reflects. For many women, the concept of surrendering a newborn to another person is nearly incomprehensible; they feel a profound revulsion at the idea of such a primal separation. However, for Roberts, her four surrogacies signify the most meaningful contribution she has made in her life.

"I've witnessed the parents cradle their babies immediately after birth, skin-to-skin," she shares. "They're raw and emotional." Upon first encountering Roberts, who resides in Santa Barbara County, California, she was delivering a speech at the Men Having Babies conference in downtown San Francisco. Men Having Babies fulfills its motto: it assists gay aspiring fathers in connecting with women who are eager to carry their children.

Throughout the year, over 200 men from across California and beyond assemble at the Marines' Memorial Club & Hotel, engaging in panel discussions and keynote addresses, with a dedicated session for single dads. Post the legalization of same-sex marriage, male couples have emerged as the primary growth sector for American surrogacy; yet the trend is expanding beyond that demographic, encompassing married or single parents, regardless of sexual orientation, capable of affording the expense of another individual to carry their child.

In 2024, 11,821 embryos were transferred to surrogates in American clinics linked to the Society for Assisted Reproductive Technology, a significant jump from 8,461 three years prior. The United Nations estimates the global surrogacy industry to be worth nearly $15 billion. Today, the majority of surrogacy in America is commercial, involving a paid carrier with no genetic connection to the child.

Marissa Leshnov for The Atlantic Not a week goes by without another celebrity showcasing their newest baby on Instagram—possibly in scrubs or engaging in skin-to-skin contact—and thanking their remarkable surrogate. Kim Kardashian, Anderson Cooper, Meghan Trainor, and Chrissy Teigen are among those who have utilized surrogates. Some celebrities cite medical risks as their motivation for hiring a surrogate to bear the pregnancy's hazards for them.

Others seek additional children beyond their biological capacity. Hilaria and Alec Baldwin welcomed their sixth child via surrogate five months after Hilaria's fifth child arrived. (She has since carried their seventh). However, as commercial surrogacy gains visibility in American life, so too does the opposition. Lily Collins, aged 35 at the time of announcing her daughter Tove's birth and her "profound gratitude to our extraordinary surrogate," faced backlash describing her and her husband as "human traffickers" and "baby buyers."

In the past year, numerous alarming accounts—fraudulent agencies, human trafficking, and elderly parents unable to care for a newborn—have surfaced, casting a shadow over what is typically portrayed as an uplifting narrative. While reproductive freedom advocates may view most surrogacy stories as inspiring, those considering the risks to carriers or harboring skepticism about unregulated commerce will find ample cause for concern.

Liberal Americans may find themselves perplexed to learn that their country leads the world in commercial surrogacy enthusiasm. Conversely, Britain, where I reside, supports a ban on the practice among feminists, who are apprehensive about the power disparity between paid surrogates and affluent prospective parents. A recent UN report declared commercial surrogacy as the "sale of children," a crime, and suggested that surrogacy arrangements can resemble slavery.

In a recent scandal, Thai women who responded to an advertisement for work as surrogates in Georgia had their passports seized, and were coerced into donating their eggs. Certain developing nations that have become popular hubs for surrogacy tourism have passed laws to shield women from exploitation by affluent foreigners. Thailand outlawed commercial surrogacy in 2015 following the "Baby Gammy" case, where a surrogate was left to raise a disabled child.

She accused the intended parents—one of whom was a convicted sex offender—of attempting to abort the twin with Down syndrome. Due to the potential for complications, every nation within the European Union has prohibited commercial surrogacy. France's centrist liberal president, Emmanuel Macron, has criticized the practice as incompatible with women's dignity.

Italy's right-wing populist leader, Giorgia Meloni, has implemented one of the most stringent anti-surrogacy frameworks globally. Not only is domestic surrogacy banned, but any Italian citizen who brings home a baby born to an overseas surrogate faces imprisonment and a fine of up to 1 million euros. Many other developed countries have either severely restricted surrogacy or, like Britain and Canada, choose to permit only the altruistic version.

Israel allows surrogacy but imposes stringent conditions: the commissioning parents must not have more than two children already, must lack serious criminal convictions, and must share the same religion as the surrogate. Generally, Europeans view Americans' enthusiasm for paid surrogacy much like we perceive their fondness for guns and capital punishment: inexplicable.

The intriguing contrast, however, is that surrogacy is a cause championed by the American left rather than the right. Red states tend to impose stricter limits on surrogacy. Louisiana, for instance, restricts surrogacy to married couples.