How my Adoption led me to Surrogacy
So often surrogacy is compared to adoption. Both are different ways to build a family, neither is more valid than the other. They are different choices, with many commonalities and many differences - like two paths running parallel to each other.
Often, the two get pitted against each other. The presumed ‘importance’ of having biological children through surrogacy vs the ‘benevolence’ of providing a home for the unwanted children of the world. These are blanket judgements. Meanwhile, a significant number of intended parents building their families through surrogacy are actually using donor gametes, and adoption is long, arduous, and most importantly - not a consolation prize.
The shortcomings of the adoption system of decades past are unfairly applied to surrogacy, while the availability of IVF and surrogacy often leads those who haven’t researched either to minimize adoption as a valid choice. Also, the ease with which celebrity couples appear to add to their family, via adoption or surrogacy, takes away from the challenges these paths truly hold. As an adoptee and a 4x surrogate, I have personal experience with both.
My story officially starts 14 years before I was born. My parents were married in 1971, both the youngest in large families, they had no reason to believe they wouldn’t have a large family of their own. Although starting a family was a typical expectation of young couples in that era, for them it was practically written in the stars. At the time of their marriage, they were already an aunt and uncle 37 times over, and would eventually be godparents to no less than six godchildren. Theirs was the house on the block where you could always find all the neighbourhood kids; either skating on the backyard rink or in the kitchen learning how to decorate cakes - my mother’s favourite hobby. In truth, I see part of my parents in every set of intended parents that come to JA Surrogacy.
It’s hard to imagine now, but the 70’s were a watershed in terms of fertility advances. This was the first generation that had had the birth control pill available, giving people control over when and if they started a family – as well as being the first generation with access to fertility medications. By the close of the decade, the first IVF baby had been born. This ushered in an era where couples who struggled to conceive naturally, were finally given some control over their situation.
Women’s liberation was something that happened elsewhere.
However, this newfound empowerment was muted considerably in small town Northern Ontario, where the population was predominantly Catholic. Women’s liberation was something that happened elsewhere.
My mother rarely spoke of their efforts to conceive. However, she once mentioned having to drive three hours into Michigan for fertility testing so that the neighbours wouldn’t see her at the doctor’s office. It broke my heart that she felt such shame over their situation – and the irony that a few decades later I’d be driving around that same small town with a vehicle decal that says ‘Give the gift of Surrogacy’ is not lost on me.
At the time, they had the requisite testing, and a few diagnostic procedures, but were limited by the technology and their religious beliefs. Knowing how heterosexual couples struggle today with the stigma regarding infertility, I can’t even imagine how much people must have suffered almost 50 years ago.
Years after my mother’s fertility testing, my cousin and her husband began pursuing their own fertility treatments quite openly. Both my parents were visibly uncomfortable as my dad awkwardly blurted out every one-liner you shouldn’t say to someone struggling with infertility. ‘We never talked about these things!’ he later exclaimed.
There had been other, albeit limited, options available, but they made the conscious choice to pursue adoption. This came with its own set of stigmas. Abortion was not yet fully legal and having children out of wedlock was severely frowned upon. Adoptions in that day were almost always closed, with no contact whatsoever between the person giving birth and the prospective parents. Women placing a child for adoption would have little choice but to move on with their lives as though it never happened. And on the flip side, adoptive familial bonds were often considered to be ‘less than’. My parents had known people on all three sides of the adoption triangle, and nevertheless forged ahead.
The remaining scars of what they had gone through with infertility hung around throughout my childhood.
Reading their application wasn’t unlike reading through the intended parent profiles I help create every day. My father spoke of enjoying life with his wonderful wife and wanting to see a little part of himself in his children – my mother spoke of her stubbornness, and how she hoped her family would be like the family she grew up in, where everyone worked hard and helped each other.
It took at least four years and several informational seminars, home studies, and visits with a social worker, but finally they adopted me at the age of five weeks. They were (and are) wonderful parents. It had been on their hearts to adopt a second child for a time, but that wasn’t meant to be. The remaining scars of what they had gone through with infertility hung around throughout my childhood.
Our medicine cabinet held a greater number of thermometers than you’d expect to see in any given household, there were a number of books on fertility and conception with outdated and obtuse advice like ‘just relax’. My parents were older than my classmate’s parents, and my mom always had nothing to add to the conversation when her sisters-in-law or nieces discussed pregnancy and childbirth. I had no birth story to tell – in fact I didn’t even know my birthweight until I requisitioned my birth records as an adult.
The first time I learned what surrogacy was, I was around ten years old and watching a movie. I was mesmerized – there was a way to proactively help people like my parents. I couldn’t imagine how gratifying that must be, levelling the playing field for someone so deserving. At this point in time, surrogacy was next to unheard of in day-to-day life, but I filed it away in my mind under ‘I’d like to do that someday’.
The next time I heard of it was when my own children were infants. I read a story in a magazine about it, and mentioned to my children’s father that I’d like to do that someday when we were finished having kids. The third time I heard of it, was how so many surrogates come to it – after seeing a post in a social media group. I reached out to the owner of the agency who’d posted it, and the rest was history. In honour of my parents, I requested specifically to work with a couple who had undergone fertility struggles. In my mind, it was like giving back to my parents by helping someone out of the struggle they’d faced nearly three decades earlier.
At this point in time, surrogacy was next to unheard of in day-to-day life, but I filed it away in my mind under ‘I’d like to do that someday’.
My intended mother and father were, and are, so much like my own parents – right down to the amount of time they were married before welcoming their son. I went on to carry for two more couples – with my most recent journey being my hardest by far. Every time I’ve struggled, I think ‘if my parents could get through it and come out on the other side, then I can follow in their footsteps and do the same.’
I once broke down and asked my dad just how they got through 14 years of that struggle, and his words echo in my mind - ‘I don’t remember now.’ (That’s unhelpful, I thought to myself.) He continued - ‘But it was worth it. We have you, we have two beautiful grandchildren…’ Then I got it. You don’t remember the tunnel once you get to the light on the other side. This is true of any struggle, be it fertility treatments, adoption, or surrogacy.
I’ve read theories about lingering adoption trauma from other adult adoptees who speak as though it is universal, but I don’t believe that to be true. Any baggage – good or bad – that I carry from my adoption is a 36-year-old problem at this point, and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. The things we experience in life shape us into who we are. I don’t know that I would’ve been called to become a surrogate had I not been adopted.
One commonality you see throughout the many paths to parenthood is courage.
I can clearly articulate the flaws in the adoption system – especially in previous decades where stigma and shame ruled over practicality – but like any process involving human beings, there is no perfect way, there are no absolutes, and there are no guarantees. This is true whether someone builds their family via adoption, like my parents did, via surrogacy, like I’ve helped couples do, or had children the ‘old-fashioned’ way, like I did.
The era of breaking down barriers and dispelling stigma that we now live in allows for an openness, a transparency and an empowerment that alleviates many of the misinformed judgements surrounding both adoption and surrogacy. I’m extremely proud to be a part of that change everyday. Knowing that not only am I able to help couples like my parents, but also knowing their path is now easier, instills me with a great deal of accomplishment.
One commonality you see throughout the many paths to parenthood is courage: A birth mother, placing a child for adoption is likely the most courageous decision she’s ever been faced with. A surrogate, who carries someone else’s child to lead that person to parenthood. An adoptive parents’ journey, (often on the tail of their own arduous fertility journey) persevering through stigma and lingering doubts on whether their family will be seen as ‘the same’ as others. An intended parents’ journey, to ask for help from another, to let go of their desire of experiencing pregnancy or to be on the other side of the world from the women carrying their child. On each path, to trust in the process and have faith it will all work out, takes immense courage.
No matter what way someone builds their family, they deserve to have the support of those around them, without shame or stigma standing in their way.
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Dedicated to my mom, Carolynn Joy Ambeault, 1944-2021. She always referred to her most predominant trait of being stubborn as ‘having beliefs’.
Linsay is an Administration Manager and Surrogate Support worker at JA Surrogacy Consulting. She has completed three surrogate journeys and is currently on her fourth. Her time as a surrogate has made her incredibly knowledgeable about the process and an important member of the surrogacy community here in Canada. To learn more about Linsay, please visit the Our Team page on our website.
