This weekend Anna, Matt and Brendan will uphold a somewhat belated annual tradition.
Every year gay couple Matt and Brendan take their son Baker to Anna’s house and help her and her children put up their Christmas tree lights. “Then we have a picture in front of it,” Anna says. “We didn’t get around to it this year, so instead they’ll help us take them down!”
As always, they’ll exchange presents, including for Baker, 3. “I’m like his aunt,” Anna says.
But the two Adelaide-based families have a particularly special relationship. Anna was a surrogate for Matt and Brendan, enabling them to become parents.
Before she became a surrogate, Anna was an egg donor for three different families. “I got hooked on the wonderful feeling of helping others in a really meaningful way,” she says. “It’s addictive.”
Her next step was to become a surrogate: rather than just donate eggs, she wanted to carry a baby for another couple. “I’d really enjoyed pregnancy with my own children, and wanted to experience it again without raising any more children,” she says. “I found giving birth very empowering.”
Anna gave birth to Baker at home with midwives. Matt and Brendan — who are what the surrogate community call commissioning parents — were also present.
The two families now see each other about six times a year and have an annual ‘Surryversary’ — a celebration of the date Anna agreed to carry their child. “We get babysitters, go for dinner and celebrate this enormous journey that the four adults went on together to create life,” she says.
The controversial world of surrogacy
About 100 babies are born to surrogates in Australia every year and about 200 more are born to international surrogates. Those figures are growing.
Many of those helped to become parents by surrogates are gay couples like Matt and Brendan, as well as couples who are childless for a range of reasons including infertility.
Australia has strict rules around surrogacy, with only “altruistic surrogacy” legal here: women must volunteer to carry a child for another person or couple and do not receive monetary compensation beyond reimbursement of medical expenses.
“You can’t really ask someone to be your surrogate in Australia — you have to wait for a surrogate to approach you and offer, which is what I did,” Anna says.
But surrogacy is complex, broad and can be ethically fraught and last week Pope Francis weighed in, generating a noisy debate in the media and among academics.
The “progressive” Pope may have softened his stance on same-sex couples, but he draws the line at surrogacy.
In a recent address, Pope Francis called surrogacy “deplorable”, criticising the “grave violation of the dignity of the woman and the child, based on the exploitation of situations of the mother’s material needs”. A child, he said, shouldn’t be “the basis of a commercial contract”.
The pronouncement led to heated debate and produced an unlikely alliance between religious conservatives and some feminist progressives.
Australia, like many countries, bans commercial surrogacy, leading some couples to make overseas arrangements. Altruistic surrogacy is permitted.
Meanwhile, state legislation is described by legal experts as a “mish-mash” — commissioning parents are still able to bring in babies born via commercial arrangements from overseas in all states except NSW, Queensland and the ACT. But in reality, this isn’t enforced. Western Australia bans gay singles and couples from surrogacy.
To unpack the nuances, ABC News spoke to experts, adult surrogacy-conceived people, female surrogates, couples who’ve used a surrogate and feminists to shed light on where Australia currently stands on the issue and how surrogacy impacts those directly involved.
WARNING: This story mentions stillbirth
Morgan calls her surrogate ‘Aunty Laurie’
Morgan Rennie, 25, from Melbourne, was born via commercial surrogacy in the US.
“I’ve never had any i ssue with it and I believe that’s because mum told me as early as possible,” she says. “I never knew any different so there wasn’t the trauma of secrecy.”
Morgan’s parents tried for 10 years to conceive, including via IVF. Her surrogate — who she calls “Aunty Laurie” — also donated her eggs. She’s travelled to California 10 times to visit her. “Laurie always wanted to help someone who couldn’t have a child,” Morgan says. “She has five of her own — definitely a family woman.”
In response to suggestions surrogacy exploits the resulting child, Morgan says: “I’ll tread lightly here. People can have their opinions. But it’s impossible to consider the way I came into the world as exploitative. The agency did so many tests. You have to be perfectly healthy from a genetic and mental standpoint,” she says.
“My mum had so many miscarriages. One was stillborn. She knew she wanted to be a mother. And yes, Aunty Laurie was paid, so it was beneficial both ways. There was no negative intent. It fulfilled a need.”
Olivia doesn’t believe altruistic surrogacy ‘exists’
Morgan’s perspective is polar opposite to Olivia Maurel, 32, a surrogacy-conceived French-American woman who says she was “ripped” from her mother at birth and “sold to strangers”. She says this left her with the trauma of a lifelong fear of abandonment and rejection, causing her many problems in her life and relationships.
Olivia wants all surrogacy, including altruistic surrogacy, banned “for the sake of the child”. Just before the Pope’s recent announcement, she wrote him a letter imploring him to call for its abolition. She supports the Casablanca Declaration — a model for an international treaty to abolish surrogacy, which has Australian signatories.
“I don’t believe altruistic surrogacy really exists,” she says. “I consider the person who gives birth the mother; there’s nothing altruistic about separating the child from her after nine months of bonding.”
Her relationship with her heterosexual commissioning parents was, she says, “extremely awkward and distant,” especially with her mum. Today they no longer speak to her due to her campaign.
“I’ve never blamed them; surrogacy was there and they had the money,” she says. “It’s the system, where children can be bought and women used, that I blame.”
Alice has ‘changed her mind’ on commercial surrogacy
Alice Clarke, nee Kirkwood, was the first IVF surrogacy conceived person in Australia and the second in the world. Her Aunty Linda — her mum’s sister — was her altruistic surrogate.
“I used to be very against commercial surrogacy — I used to think I’d feel like I’d been bought or sold,” Alice, 35, says. “The baby Gammy case changed my mind.”
“I realised commercial surrogacy in Australia would ensure everybody was compensated for taking risks, but also we’d also deter people from going overseas where there’s less regulation and more possibility for exploitation,” she says.
Commercial surrogacy would also ensure fair remuneration for Australian surrogates, she says: “[With altruistic surrogacy] every person in the process gets something out of it, except for the person giving birth, who’s putting their life on the line. My wife’s currently pregnant, and we get a baby out of this; if she was a surrogate she’d have nothing but risk and potentially no reward.”
Alice says she has yet to meet an unhappy person conceived via surrogacy. “But to be fair, I hadn’t met another surrogacy conceived-person until eight years ago.”
She has never felt like her Aunty Linda was her mum. “I’m as close to her as my mum’s other sister, Aunt Cynthia. And believe me, Aunty Linda’s not the sort of person you can exploit,” she says.
“I’ve always known exactly who my parents are. And because there was no shame or secrets, everyone was very proud and happy. It all just comes down to how the parents handle it.”
Odette was a surrogate: ‘Everything went wrong’
Odette* from Far North Queensland has had a different experience to Linda. Having agreed to be a surrogate for her female cousin and her male partner in 2015, she was initially optimistic.
“I looked up to her like an older sister. I thought it’d expand our family and make us closer,” Odette, 39, says. “The baby would be like a cousin for my son.”
She was told she’d play a role in the child’s life, especially on birthdays and special occasions. They engaged a counsellor to help them navigate the journey but Odette didn’t think to ask to see the counsellor’s report until later. “It recommended further counselling be done before we proceed, but by then the embryo transfer had already been done.”
After the transfer she says her cousin became “irrational”. The two fell out over a joint account for expenses. “She removed all the money from it and stopped paying my medical bills, then racked up legal bills worth $20,000,” Odette says.
The baby is being brought up by Odette’s cousin, who she claims is mentally unstable. A series of Family Court claims and counterclaims followed. “She even asked me for child support payments,” Odette says.
It has convinced Odette that things need to change. “There aren’t enough laws, processes or education in place to protect the surrogates or children in Australia,” she says. “Everything went wrong in my case.”
And she hears other stories like hers: “They don’t get support from the surrogacy community; they don’t want to hear bad stories like mine.”
Feminist objections
Some feminist activists echo the Pope’s call for a global ban, using phrases such as “faraway incubators for foetuses” and creating campaign groups such as Stop Womb Rental to demonstrate how surrogacy can exploit women — especially impoverished women of colour “commissioned” by wealthy Westerners.
Dr Renate Klein, author of Surrogacy: A Human Rights Violation, says Australian law “could be worse” but advocates a total surrogacy ban.
‘Surrogate’ is a “misnomer”, she says. “She’s a woman who makes a baby in her body — which is given to strangers. They’ll then spend their lives trying to figure out who they are and what their culture is because they were taken away from their birth mother.”
Klein believes altruistic surrogacy is worse than commercial surrogacy because it exploits the “compassion trap” — the idea women should be nurturing and kind. “At least with commercial surrogacy — which is very dangerous because a foreign embryo is growing inside her body — the woman gets something for it.”
She also deplores the upswing in gay male couples seeking surrogates since same-sex marriage was legalised: “They have the big wedding cake and say, ‘OK, now we have the baby’ because we’re husbands with male incomes and can afford it. They see Elton [John] has done it and so they want to,” she says. “It’s consumerism and hubris. Nobody has a right to a child — gay or straight. People are scared to say this for fear of being accused of homophobia, but as a lesbian of many decades, I quote the Rolling Stones: You can’t always get what you want.”
Alice Clarke disputes this. “There’s nothing feminist about telling people what they can and can’t do with their bodies of their own free will,” she says.
Catherine Lynch, a founding member of Abolish Surrogacy in Australia, was taken from her unmarried mother at birth and given to an infertile married couple.
“As somebody separated from her mother at birth, and as someone who has spoken to hundreds of people likewise separated from their mothers at birth, I testify to the trauma caused to us by the devastating destruction of a child’s primary human relationship of love, which is developed in utero, regardless of the mother’s thoughts on the matter,” she says.
Her baby hospital records detail “incessant crying and calling behaviours, screaming all night with ‘glucose offered to little effect’, refusal of food and difficulty sleeping.”
She says this is evidence of the cruelty of mother/baby separation, especially given Australia’s dark history there. “Only a society whose empathy with human infants has been eroded by half a century of removing First Nations children and forced adoptions from single mothers would tolerate any form of this human rights violation.”
Surrogacy, she says, is “a huge step backwards for the rights of children”.
Shane and Sam have a ‘lifelong’ relationship with their surrogate
“I’ve always wanted to be a dad,” Shane Marinan-Valentine, 38, from Sydney says. “So has Sam: as a former primary school teacher, kids always played a big part in his life.”
The couple engaged an altruistic surrogate, Cass, in Canada and their daughter, Amelia, was born in October.
Shane’s love for Amelia heals past wounds. “When I came out as gay at 17, the biggest upsetting challenge was coming to terms with never being a father,” he says. “I really struggled to accept that. For as long as I can remember, being a parent has always been such a strong desire.”
Surrogacy matching agencies exist in Canada, which is why they travelled there. “These agencies don’t exist in Australia which makes the process overwhelming, slow and challenging to find others interested in surrogacy,” Sam says. “Some families never connect with a surrogate.”
Surrogacy, for this couple, was plan B. Adoption was plan A.
“We’d done the training and education for adoption, and learned the likelihood of us being matched with a child was really low,” Sam, 37, says.
So began some soul searching. “We weighed up the different points of view, aware of the opposition, the stigma,” Sam says. “We’d heard horror stories of impoverished surrogate women in India and Thailand. We felt encouraged by the government acting to prevent women being exploited via surrogacy there.”
The couple say such horror stories convinced them altruistic surrogacy, rather than a commercial arrangement overseas, was their best route.
“Cass, our Canadian surrogate, chose us … after a rigorous process,” Shane says. “When pregnant with her first daughter, she told her husband she’d one day love to help another couple that aren’t able to have their own children experience the wonders of being a parent for the first time.”
They wanted a surrogate who spoke English so the mutual arrangement was clear, there was no potential for exploitation — and to pave the way for a “lifelong relationship”.
Shane says the couple learnt how important it is for the child’s wellbeing that they understand from an early age where they come from, what their story is. “So we didn’t want to go to somewhere like America where it could lead to a purely commercial transaction, where we’d potentially have no relationship with a surrogate, which was so important to us,” he says.
Now the two couples — Shane and Sam, Cass and her husband Brett in Canada — feel like one big family for Amelia, Sam says. “We have regular Zoom calls with our surrogate, her husband and children. Our intention is definitely to go back to Canada in the future. And hopefully for them to come to Australia. Cass says how rewarding it feels, and we feel enormously grateful to her.”
$330K later, Mark has a daughter whom he loves
Mark Bowness, 44, a former church leader who was ex-communicated when he came out — had a baby girl, Mahalia, with his husband six months ago.
The Melbourne couple used a commercial surrogate in the United States via an agency who they used because they assured the surrogate woman’s medical aftercare.
They decided against the altruistic route in Australia due to difficulties and length of time finding an donor – and the reality that there are more couples looking for egg donors and surrogates than there are available.
They found themselves asking some tough questions. “The top consideration was making it child-centred: is it fair to raise a child without a mum or a female in the house? Is this purely for my benefit?” Mark says. “And lots of people, with commercial arrangements like this, reduce it to talk about money, making it a material issue of ‘buying babies’. It’s much more beautiful than that. It’s wanting to bring a beautiful baby into the world, raised to be an amazing human being. Who doesn’t want to do that?”
In total, they spent $330,000 on surrogacy. First, they paid $60,000 to a company in Mexico, but all three embryo transfers failed. The “more reputable” US agency cost $250,000, and they were successful on the third transfer — but then had to wait until Mahalia was old enough to get a US passport to fly home to Australia and apply for Australian citizenship.
“For our surrogate, Jennyfer, it’s a case of ‘my body, my choice’,” Mark says. “She entered knowing the full compensation amount. She had a child when she was younger and is a single mum. She’d wanted to carry a child for her sister; when that didn’t eventuate, she realised she wanted to do so for a couple like us. The money was secondary for her.”
Like the Marinan-Valentines, adoption would have been Mark’s first choice. “It’s a great shame — we would’ve, without fail, adopted kids out there that need the parents instead of surrogacy; same sex couples are bottom of the adoptee list in Australia. They go to heterosexual couples first. I was told by one Victorian adoption agency we’d wait 10 years.”
Helen Gibson from Surrogacy Concern says: “We’re feminist campaigners on the centre left; we support gay co-parenting, adoption and fostering: our issue is with surrogacy, not the sexuality of the commissioning parent. Surrogacy doesn’t centre the child; it puts adults’ desires to be parents ahead of every other consideration.”
In response, Mark says: “How is that different from heterosexual couples? They become parents for the same reason we do: because they want to start a family.”
He shrugs off detractors, knowing their surrogate is healthy and remunerated — and he and his husband have a cherished daughter. “We really wanted her, and we love her. It comes down to that,” he says.
Scandals, exploitation and the future of surrogacy
Since the baby Gammy case, other scandals have been linked to Australian surrogacy organisations.
Lexi Ellingsworth at Stop Surrogacy Now says the recent surrogacy and baby trafficking scandal in Greece revealed at least 182 cases of exploitation of women and exposed links to the global director of Australian organisation Growing Families, Sam Everingham, resulting in several arrests.
Everingham confirmed to ABC News that Growing Families has received sponsorship money for events from the Crete-based surrogacy provider in question and coordinated shipments of gametes to this clinic over recent years.
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He believes Australian legislation, which he says was “simply based on UK legislation”, should be changed to “better compensate women for the labour involved, as a far fairer means to reduce the risk of exploitation and increase the availability of domestic surrogacy”.
The status quo is driving people to make offshore arrangements, he adds: “They’re riskier, often more exploitative environments.”
In the 2022 financial year, 213 Australian babies were born through international surrogacy; 100 surrogacy births were reported by Australian and New Zealand fertility clinics in 2021.
Australia is, he says, one of the only nations globally to have no mechanism for surrogates to be recognised on birth certificates, which means the overseas surrogate and her partner are defined as the legal parents. “Even this hasn’t dissuaded Australians from engaging in high numbers in offshore surrogacy,” he says.
Anna, who now works to support “intended parents” at the not-for-profit Surrogacy Australia, says she and her husband also made a point of getting to know Matt and Brendan’s friends and families, and vice versa. “It takes a village,” she says. Matt and Brendan’s son Baker has a small town.
“We keep the best interests of the child at the forefront of everything we do. This is a person who’ll have a story and so we need to make sure it’s not transactional, even if it’s commercial surrogacy. Maintaining contact is important,” Anna says.
Matt and Brendan helped with her grocery shopping and taking her kids out when she was pregnant.
“I think Australia will eventually go down the compensated model,” Anna says. “We should do so — but cautiously.”
*Odette’s name has been changed to protect privacy.