When it comes to surrogacy, the so-called ‘intended parents’ take centre stage. The women who give birth to the children are either silenced or have their stories controlled to fit the narrative demanded by the market. However, some surrogate mothers find the strength to speak out and break the silence surrounding the abuse they have suffered. The risk of women being trafficked for reproductive purposes (surrogacy) is real everywhere.
Testimony of Clara France (*)
My name is Clara and I am from Argentina. I have two daughters who are studying at university in Argentina. Since 2023, I have been fighting to regain my place in my son’s life, with the help of my solicitor. This is my story.
In 2022, a very close friend of mine, whom I will call ‘G’, whom I met in 2007 when I was studying English, called me. He works in Europe and lives with his partner. They are both very wealthy.
At the time, I had recently separated, lost a child a few years earlier, and was not feeling well. During our conversation, G asked me to become the mother of his child. He said that the three of us would form a family. I was happy to help them become parents, and to become a mother again myself. I accepted this wonderful project. He mentioned the possibility of marrying me to make it easier for them to obtain papers in France. We would be a family of three in Europe. I would live on one floor of their large house and they would live on the other; we would raise the child together.
I know it may sound strange, but it felt strange to me at first too. I won’t lie — I didn’t want to upset him. I thought to myself, ‘Well, the world is changing so much that I’m going to become a mother this way.’ They brought me to France on a tourist visa. As I was in the early stages of menopause, they arranged for in vitro fertilisation in Spain using my friend’s partner’s sperm and donor eggs. The doctor suggested a donor with dark skin, like mine. However, ‘G’ insisted on a donor with fair skin and blue eyes. I refused.
It was a high-risk pregnancy: I was 41 years old at the time and had been diagnosed with high blood pressure and hypothyroidism. During the pregnancy, I had to go to hospital four times.
From the outset of my pregnancy, I found it extremely challenging to coexist with them. They argued a lot and started behaving very coldly towards me, as if it were a job. Gradually, the idea of a happy family life together disappeared. They decided that I should live in the neighbouring town and that I would only see the baby at weekends after he was born. G took my passport, but fortunately returned it to me four months later. I no longer recognised him; he had become a completely different person.
However, I thought I had to carry on since, after all, they were the parents and I was the mother, and we were going to start a family. I told myself that I had to put up with things, which unfortunately only got worse.
The delivery was difficult and a caesarean section had to be performed. When the child was born, G presented himself to the hospital staff as my partner. They prevented me from holding my son, saying that I was tired. They told the nursing staff that I couldn’t breastfeed him because I was going back to work. That wasn’t true. They forced me to express milk. I agreed because I thought that if the baby became too dependent on me, it would cause him distress later on. There was also the €300 they sent every month for my daughters. I had no job and no connections. I didn’t speak French yet either. I had no money. They paid all my expenses, but my visa had expired, so I couldn’t go out without being very discreet. I couldn’t ask for help, and I had to keep my word.
When I dared to protest, the tension between us increased. They made me write a curriculum vitae and told me that they could no longer support me. I had not yet recovered from my caesarean section, so I asked them for a little more time as I was still finding it very difficult to walk. However, without consulting me, they organised my departure to Spain, where I knew nobody except a vague Facebook contact in Murcia. It took five car changes via BlaBlaCar and a bus journey to get there — a distance of 1,500 km. ‘G’ accompanied me to the bus in Barcelona to Murcia, then flew back immediately.
The person I stayed with helped me and put me in touch with a solicitor. By leaving my son like that, I risked being accused of child abandonment. I called ‘G’, begging him to let me return to France. I naively told him that I risked being prosecuted for child abandonment. I then learned that they had immediately filed a complaint against me for child abandonment.
While in Spain, I was put in touch with solicitors Ambroselli and Montesinos. They organised my repatriation to France and have supported me in all my efforts, including with paperwork, work and legal action to regain custody of my son.
Thanks to their efforts, I can now see my son for two hours every fortnight under social services supervision.
However, for me, this is only a first step: I hope to be reunited with my son, who is now two years old, one day.
Testimony of Christian USA (*)
“I was motivated to help others, and I later found out that I have something called toxic empathy, which means that I help others to my own detriment. I was also hoping to earn money to help pay legal fees, as my husband was in a custody battle for his children, and the ‘compensation’ from the surrogacy was going to go toward the legal bills.”
I signed a contract with a well-known agency in California for an IVF pregnancy with an egg donor. Though I was not informed of the risks, I agreed to have a baby for this couple. They were financially stable and had established careers and a home. I thought they were good people looking to start a family.
I was told that another woman would be a “sister surrogate” who would become pregnant at the same time as me, but her embryo transfers failed, and we lost touch.
During my pregnancy, I felt a strong bond with and sense of protection for the baby.
My kids all had nicknames for him. My daughter called him Baby Squishy. My nephew called him Little Bouncy Ball.
I gave birth to all three of my children naturally, but this pregnancy was high-risk. When I was matched with the agency, they told me it would be just like a normal pregnancy, except that I would have to give myself shots. That was not true. I experienced sub chronic haemorrhaging due to the shots and had to receive weekly blood transfusions for two months before giving birth.
I was induced at the end because of preeclampsia. The baby and I were in distress, so they performed an emergency C-section. I believe it took a toll on both of us. Preeclampsia is a frequent complication with IVF surrogacy pregnancies and leads to an immediate C-section to save the mother.
My brother, my nephew, my cousin, my children, and my husband came to the hospital to see the beautiful baby be born and say goodbye to him.
Everyone got to say goodbye, except me, because I was coming down on morphine and going in and out of consciousness. I didn’t want to give him away.
My body was telling me the whole time that this baby belonged with me, and I couldn’t explain it to anyone. The agency, my family, and my friends told me that he wasn’t my baby. I felt very isolated.
I held the baby once; he was a boy. We took pictures with my family. It was in 2018.
The commissioning father arrived after I was induced and after the baby was born. There were already problems at the hospital with him.
He argued with the staff about the baby’s last name. The name in the contract was different from the name they wanted on the hospital birth record. That’s when we discovered that the contract I signed was fraudulent.
I was lied to from the beginning. The woman who was supposed to be the commissioning mother was actually pregnant, and her baby was born before mine. I never met her because they hid the pregnancy from me. They didn’t want me to find out that she wasn’t infertile, as they had claimed. Later, it became clear that the supposed “intended parents” never intended to raise this child.
The couple I was having a baby for never wanted to keep the baby. They were hired. Around the time of the baby’s first birthday, they sent him to the UK with a nanny and declared that they didn’t want him anymore.
The man who is currently caring for the baby in the UK is the genetic father, with whom they had a contract.
I found all of this out during the court case. I saw the contract they had together, the pseudo commissioning father, and the genetic father in the UK. The contract was written on a piece of paper with an attorney’s office letterhead, so it looked legal to me.
The court case was a four-year custody battle over the baby in the UK. I paid for one of the hearings, and the man who has the baby now paid for another.
In court documents, I stated that I wanted to raise the child with my husband in America. I wrote to the presiding judge, begging him to see my point of view.
I do not believe that my lawyers represented me well or acted in my best interests. I don’t even know if the child knows that he was born through surrogacy. The genetic father referred to him as a “project,” as if it were all a social experiment.
I was not treated like a human being, and it was clear that they found it deeply inconvenient that I had a mind of my own and wanted to keep the baby. I did not give my consent for the child to be adopted. My UK lawyers tried to persuade me to give up my parental rights. No one was on my side. The agency showed little to no concern; they sent flowers. They even tried to make me sign a confidentiality clause, but I refused. This means that I can’t be prosecuted for talking about my experience like today, but most surrogate mothers can’t talk if they signed such a clause in their contract.
The court battle ruled that the only thing I was allowed to do was receive pictures and brief updates on my child twice a year. It’s been over a year, and I haven’t received anything. Yet
I thought it would be beautiful to make someone else’s dream come true, even if it wasn’t their dream. But it turned into a nightmare for me and my family, detrimental to our mental health. We’ve all suffered.
It took a physical and mental toll on me and an emotional toll on my family during the pregnancy and the court cases.
My children did not cope well. Eventually, I had to take a two-year hiatus and live with my mom to get my mind together. She helped me care for my daughter for two years while I recovered, because things were really bad.
Surrogacy disrespects women by dehumanizing them and monetizing their bodies. Even during the contract stage, I was asked if I would do it again, as if I were a baby-making robot. Shortly after I returned from the UK court case, my lawyers asked if I would carry another baby and wanted me to sign a new contract.
I deeply regret agreeing to use my body in this way. I was vulnerable, and no one stood up for me. I wasn’t able to fight any more than I did. Although I didn’t give my consent to the adoption, my parental rights were still removed. The child does not carry my DNA, so the secret of his birth will die with me and the other family members who know. How will he know that I wanted him? Who will tell him?
When did a women’s right to have a child mean that it would take away another woman’s right to have contact with a child, she gave birth to.
Testimony of Marianne (UK)
Too often, people hear how wonderful surrogacy is, how it’s a beautiful gift and a positive experience. Then, you hear about the “terrible” surrogate who dares to ask for her child back. It’s an all-too-common depiction in our modern fairy tale world.
I believed that fairy tale when I agreed to help a family member by carrying her child. At the time, I was happy to agree and did not need to be paid. I made it clear that the child would be conceived using her egg and that I would be allowed to see and have contact with the child I would give birth to.
I agreed to become a surrogate mother for my cousin. She was more like a sister to me. She had been a significant presence in my life. We were a vital part of each other’s lives.
I knew about her cancer. A few years ago, she told me that she had created embryos.
One day, she came to my house with her sister, who is also my cousin. She said, “Can you help me?” I told her that I would only help if she let me see the child. She looked me in the eye and said, “Absolutely. There’s trust.” We’re family, you know?
Not for a minute did I think I’d actually need to get a lawyer and write a contract.
I think when she asked me, she knew I had no choice but to say yes. I think she exploited our relationship. As further information came out afterwards, it appeared that they had looked into surrogacy abroad. But it was deemed too expensive, so they were looking for a cheaper alternative. They kind of saw me as “Oh, she’ll do it for free.”
I was told there is trust. “You will be the child’s godmother.” Those words would later come back to haunt me. I don’t believe she knows what trust means. She made all sorts of promises to brainwash and coerce me into helping her.
It was a gestational surrogacy. They used IVF with their own biological material. I remember lots of injections and visits to the clinic for very obtrusive physical examinations. It was a very procedural process, and it was quite challenging, both emotionally and physically, to go through all of that. I’d had two normal, non-assisted pregnancies of my own. This overmedication was purely to help these two people.
The experience was bad enough. Having somebody else try to dictate what medical procedures you should endure, how you should give birth, and what you should eat was awful. The list goes on. This affected me from the beginning of my pregnancy, yet there is still no specialized support for women going through surrogate pregnancies.
In 2014, at the time of delivery, the commissioning father wouldn’t be present; it would just be her, me, and my partner. Everything went smoothly, and I felt in control. The hospital saw me as the mother. So, my wishes were taken into account; it was how I wanted to do things. It didn’t matter what she wanted. However, they wanted me to have an elective C-section. I refused, and my midwife said that wasn’t good practice. If someone doesn’t need one, they shouldn’t have one. They tried to force me and put pressure on me, saying, “Oh, it’d be better for you.”
I remember there being some confusion at the hospital. Even though they had been told that it was a surrogacy, social services got involved. I thought, “This is awful. I’m trying to have a baby, and now I’ve got suspicious social services interviewing me.
The father came in while they were doing contact, and that was fine. They had the baby. They told me I could go home. However, the hospital staff did not agree. They wanted to see me walk out with the baby, carrying it according to their policy. I remember having to carry the car seat with the baby in it through the hospital in full view of the medical staff. Then, we had to do this strange exchange where I handed over the child in the hospital parking lot because, legally, the hospital was no longer responsible for the child once it was outside.
After the birth, I was presented with all sorts of legal documents that I was forced to sign. The timing was awful, too, right when I was trying to recover from the birth. Imagine training your body and mind for nine months to believe that you are not the mother of the child you are giving birth to. Every surrogate woman has to do that. Then, after doing that, you are presented with a document stating that you are the mother, and you are forced to sign it. I was also threatened with financial and legal consequences if I didn’t sign it. This is the dark side of surrogacy in the UK that nobody hears about because most women are given gag orders to prevent them from talking about it.
No payment was made. I was only compensated for time off work. I remember them buying me maternity clothes and reimbursing me for transportation to the clinic. They wanted to pay for food, but I politely declined. I didn’t want to feel controlled by having someone tell me what to eat. I remember my dear cousin saying, “We’d like to pay for a kitchen for you,” and I said, “No, you know, this is me helping you. But for me to receive gifts feels like I’m being paid for a service.” I just said no.
The court case started in 2014 and lasted two years. I didn’t start the court case. It was initiated by the commissioning parents because they wanted a parental order. A parental order legally transfers parental responsibility from the surrogate to the intended parents and ends the surrogate’s rights.
I had no idea about any of this. I didn’t even know there was going to be a court case. I just thought I would hand the child over and be done with it. None of this was made clear to me beforehand. Nobody told me. I gave birth, and suddenly, all of this legal stuff was forced upon me. I refused to sign, and everything went downhill.
They attempted to obtain my consent against my will at the court, exploiting my mental health, which was irreparably damaged as a result of my experience. However, through grit and determination—including psychiatric assessments proving I was capable of giving consent—I was permitted to remain involved. Still, they continually tried to shut me out. Children’s Services even tried to use the case of a deceased surrogate mother. They said, “We can just use that case where someone died and pretend that’s happened here.” It was just appalling. In the end, I had to sign the parental order.
The baby girl was born in 2014. I haven’t seen her since I gave birth to her.
I was promised on multiple occasions during the court case that I would see her, but each time, the appointment was cancelled the day before. They were playing games with me. I believe the promises were only for the benefit of the court.
They hinted that they would have used me as a cheap commercial surrogate if it hadn’t been for their legal costs. They constantly try to remove any trace of me from their child’s life, which is another reason why they need my silence. I believe their behaviour stems from their resentment of me as the child’s birth mother, and that is me being generous.
I have been diagnosed with complex PTSD and underwent EMDR to alleviate some of the trauma resulting from the surrogacy. I have a deep fear of hospitals, children, and babies, which does not work well with my career in education. The damage done to me will never be repaired. Constant panic attacks and a fear and distrust of people serve as constant reminders.
The impact was not only on me, but also on my children. They took on the role of parents because I wasn’t able to take care of them. This happened ten years ago, and for about five years, my children didn’t have a mother. They were taken away from me and sent to live with their father, which was traumatic for everyone. Then, the judge realized that this was not helpful to anyone and returned them to my care. Over the last five years, we have come together as a family and rebuilt our relationships, but for the first five years, we were a broken family.
In trying to help another family, they broke mine.
We talk about women’s right as if they are universal, but surrogacy actually means you are choosing which woman deserves more rights. That is inequality.
If leaders and law makers care so much about women’s rights, why are they continuing to erode the rights of surrogate women?
Testimony of Julie (France) (*)
Firstly, I would like to thank the organisers for giving us the opportunity to speak. We are not accustomed to public appearances or media exposure because our message is neither glamorous nor politically correct. We are the waste products of surrogacy, whether ethical or commercial.
We are the ones who are thrown away after use — we are not recycled. Our message is therefore not politically correct. The only voices heard by the public are those of users, commissioners and buyers of children who claim to be parents — parents even before the child is born.
I would therefore like to thank you once again for giving us a platform, and I would also like to thank the audience for listening to us.
My story began in France in 2018–19. I am French.
I had long dreamed of having a child. It was a deep and long-standing desire, but I did not have the financial means to raise a child alone. It was important to me that this child knew their origins and recognised me as their mother.
As an LGBT activist, I also wanted to use this surrogacy project to act in line with my political ideals and help those I considered to be more oppressed than others: same-sex couples. At the time, medically assisted reproduction was banned in France, and it still is.
Surrogacy is presented as an ethical, altruistic and humanitarian act — something very desirable. We hear a discourse of giving and generosity. Surrogate mothers are described as givers of life and light, and as extraordinary people. This is the discourse we hear all the time. I believed it, too.
I wanted to fulfil my desire to be a mother and help a male couple to become parents. I searched the internet and various websites, mainly Facebook, to find commissioning people or ‘intended parents’. People from all countries and of all sexual orientations contacted me.
I refused payment and carried out a surrogacy arrangement where I was only reimbursed for my pregnancy expenses. I did not receive any money. I also refused requests from abroad because I wanted to continue seeing the child. I also refused requests from heterosexual couples because I wanted to be the only mother the child would know.
I met a couple who met my criteria for stability and trust, and who made me some wonderful promises. We carried out a traditional surrogacy arrangement without the intervention of a clinic or agency. I am therefore also the child’s genetic mother.
I insisted on registering the child with the civil registry and refused to give birth anonymously because I did not want the child to have a start in life marked by abandonment. The agreement was clear: they would raise the child in their home, and I would remain close to them. However, it soon became clear that we wanted different things.
Like many surrogate mothers, I realised afterwards that I wanted to stay in the child’s life and be part of the family, even if only distantly. Many surrogate mothers dream of staying in touch with the child’s family and being considered a distant mother or aunt. They want to be able to keep in touch and see the child grow up, whether they were paid or not and whether there was a contract or not.
It had been explicitly agreed that I and my family would always have access to the child, because a surrogate mother is more than just a womb. It is also her family. The surrogate mother therefore has children who are the child’s siblings. She also has parents who are the child’s grandparents. She has brothers and sisters who are the child’s uncles and aunts. She has nephews and nieces who are the child’s cousins. As you can see, surrogacy creates quite a complicated family situation.
I was promised that their door would always be open to me. This promise was made twice: before the conception and at the birth of the child. That’s what one of the commissioner told me.
Of course, they wanted a surrogate mother who would simply disappear. It’s like using and then throwing away rubbish. Contrary to what you might hear in the media, I didn’t receive any thanks or gratitude. I received no words or attention. The day after the birth, they didn’t even ask how I was or how it had gone. I didn’t receive a gift or anything.
I received social security benefits from the CAF (Family Allowance Fund) since I am named as the mother on the birth certificate. I gave these benefits to the couple, believing that the money was intended for the child and was therefore rightfully theirs. So, although it was illegal and clandestine, I considered it an act of solidarity as an LGBT activist.
We did not draw up a written contract as it would not have had any legal value. It was only a verbal agreement. I have also always refused to give my son up for adoption, i.e. to relinquish my parental rights.
Yesterday, however, I read a report from social services in which one of the commissioners requested the adoption of my son. Even today, in October 2025, I refuse to give in to pressure from social services to give up my child.
Physically, everything went well with the pregnancy. However, it was much more difficult than I had imagined, both morally and mentally. I went through this ordeal alone, without any support from the commissioners, my family or my friends.
As the pregnancy progressed and the birth approached, the kind words and promises disappeared. I realised that I was nothing more than a vessel for delivering the baby. Even during the birth, the biological father insisted on having a say in how the baby would be delivered. For example, a suction cup was used to deliver the baby, but he wanted a caesarean section in case he caused any harm. He also insisted that the baby be placed in the nursery for the first night. Today, in 2019–2020, babies are normally left with their mothers during their stay in the maternity ward.
His behaviour in the delivery room was so inappropriate that the nursing assistant said, “Stop trying to separate the mother and baby.” She understood better than I did what was going on. When you give birth, you are not in your normal state of mind.
But she understood what was happening. When I left the maternity ward, I had given my word, so I entrusted the child to them. They left immediately afterwards.
I went home empty-handed, without my baby. I experienced postpartum without my baby, with my milk coming in. It was as if my body was mourning. It was as if the baby had died. In fact, I even joined support groups for perinatal bereavement. To people who had seen me when I was pregnant, and who I couldn’t tell that it was a surrogacy, I pretended that the child had died.
Of course, the beautiful promises soon vanished. They organised a baby shower in their flat without telling or inviting me. They perpetuated the fiction of a baby they had made all by themselves, despite being two men.
The visits they promised me happened a few times during the first year. They became less frequent, shorter and less frequent each time. My family, who were supposedly welcome at any time, had a lot of difficulty seeing the child.
They never came to introduce the child to the various members of my family as they had promised, of course. Getting photos of my son is still difficult. I received little news, even during the postpartum period when the midwives asked me how he was doing and I was undergoing perineal rehabilitation. Usually, you talk about and show photos of your child during this period. I, of course, had to make things up. I couldn’t even tell them his weight. Obviously, I couldn’t breastfeed him; otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to bottle-feed him.
I had to improvise and make up how he was doing. They hid information about his health from me. For example, I only found out that my son was autistic six months after he was born.
They told health professionals that they didn’t have my address and that I was homeless when they knew exactly where I lived. They also said that I was ‘crazy’ and that there was no point in contacting me. When the nursery school headmistress called to enrol him, they told her that I didn’t want to hear about the child. She was very surprised when I called various schools in the city on his first day of nursery school to find out if he was enrolled there. The headmistress of the second school I contacted told me that he was enrolled there. She added, ‘I’m glad you called me because the father told me you didn’t want to hear about it.’
There you have it. They also moved house several times to avoid confrontation with social services, who suspected that there was a problem. They moved because when you change regions, your file doesn’t follow you.
They finally settled in the Gard region, near Nîmes, where social services are culpably complacent. Three months after they moved there, my son’s genetic and legal father died of aggressive cancer. Legally, I became the sole holder of parental rights and was able to regain custody.
He had been ill for a year, but this had been hidden from me so that I could not begin to prepare for my return to my son’s life. Meanwhile, they had prepared to take me to court to prevent me from getting him back. Delighted at the prospect of getting my child back, I immediately suggested to my son’s stepfather that we raise the child together with joint parenting and shared custody.
I had no intention of cutting him out of my son’s life, even though I was the only person authorised to raise him. Naively, of course. He replied, “Yes, of course. I’ll come back to the Paris area. I can’t afford the rent anymore. I’ll come back. We’ll raise the child together. I’ll look for a place to live near you.”
I have text messages showing that he strung me along for a month. During that time, he took legal steps to obtain temporary custody of the child at his home with the status of a trusted third party, as well as long-term custody, the exclusive and total transfer of parental rights and sole custody, and child support. It’s as if the free surrogate mother also pays for the couple to raise the child in her place. The judges granted all these requests.
So I lost everything. I lost my parental rights and custody, a lot of money, and my son. I felt as though my son had been stolen from me at that moment.
During the three weeks when there was no legal protection, he even took the child out of school in case I went to his home to see him. Had I gone to his home, I could have legally recovered my son. He arranged to disappear completely at that time.
I was taken by surprise. Like the other women who spoke before me, I had never had any dealings with the law, never set foot in a courtroom and never hired a solicitor. In fact, I never received the court summonses. Ten days before the hearing, it was the opposing solicitor who sent them to me.
My stepfather even refused to return the family record book to me. He told the police that the family record book did not concern me, even though he is not listed in it himself and, as the father is deceased, I am entitled to it as the mother. The public prosecutor in Nîmes described me as a mere ‘procreator’. However, this concept does not exist in French law: only mothers are recognised, i.e. those who give birth.
Social services were very accommodating during the first two years after my son’s father died. However, they refused to treat me as a parent, explaining that their role was to support the second commissioner in his parenting duties. The ASE (Child Welfare Services) even asked the juvenile court judge to revoke my visiting and accommodation rights, despite them having been granted to me once per school holiday.
I was supposed to see my son. Ultimately, I didn’t see him for ten months. I was told that an investigation had been opened into my account to verify ‘my parenting skills’. Obviously, every time this man prevented a meeting, video call or phone call between my son and me, he succeeded and social services covered for him. This happened again at Christmas 2024.
Everyone involved in my son’s life — the school, health professionals, the notary and the insurance companies — turned their backs on me, treating me as if I were not my son’s mother, even though I am listed as his mother on his birth certificate. They claimed that I was just a surrogate mother. This clearly demonstrates that surrogacy and surrogate mothers exist in France. This is validated by all parties involved.
Even though the child and the surrogate mother are victims of the commissioning parents, it is the latter who are validated and authorised by all these authorities. Therefore, recognising a child on the civil register has no value. This was an illusion I had when I recognised the child and refused adoption.
I told myself that, since I am his mother, I would be legally protected. But that is not relevant. I am just a surrogate mother.
Although the judge granted me visiting rights, I was unable to see the child from 31 July 2023 to 11 May 2024. That’s almost ten months. Then, like some other surrogate mothers, I was allowed to see him at the social services offices. This was for half an hour a month for six months. After that, it was twice a month for half an hour for three months. Finally, I was granted seven hours on one day a month. This was always under the supervision of social services, who were checking my parenting skills.
In criminal terms, a complaint of incitement to abandon a child was dismissed. Justifying the dismissal, the prosecutor acknowledged surrogacy but claimed that everyone involved had given their consent at the time of the procedure. In other words, the magistrate acknowledged the offence while refusing to prosecute, which is a judicial aberration. We appealed to the Attorney General, but this was also dismissed. However, all parties acknowledge the existence of surrogacy.
The commissioner, my son’s stepfather, acknowledges surrogacy because he understands that it is thanks to this that he has obtained custody of my son and legitimacy as a father. Social services refer to him as the father and say that the child is his. As a result, he gains parental rights and custody of the child by claiming an illegal act. Social services recognise him; I, the surrogate mother, recognise him too.
So everyone agrees. Even when we present them with a clear case of infringement of the child’s filiation, the courts refuse to prosecute. I have been fighting for two years to obtain motherhood status and a semblance of dignity from both social services and the judges. We will be back in court on Thursday, 9 October, before the juvenile court judge.
I am fighting to be recognised as a mother and to regain my place in my son’s life, so that he calls me ‘Mum’ instead of my first name. Obviously, nobody at his home has ever spoken to him about me in these terms; they have only ever called me by my first name. This summer, in August, my son, who is now five years old, said to me: ‘Daddy told me that you had a baby in your tummy and that you gave it away. That baby was me.” I burst into tears and explained it to him. I was very angry with that man. I replied, ‘If I had given you away, would you be here today? Would I be fighting for your right to come here and for you to know me and your little brother?’ That’s what he told my son.’ Today, I am fighting to regain my fragile visiting and accommodation rights, as the commissioning stepfather has appealed this decision and tries to prevent video calls every time, as well as asking for the removal of my mediated visiting or accommodation rights. I can currently see my son for a day and a half a month without supervision from social services, and for half of the school holidays.
But I might lose that right next Thursday, since we’re going back to court. I haven’t regained my parental rights, nor do I have any prospect of ever regaining custody of my son. At the beginning of September, social services told me that their job was to ensure that the child had this man as his father. I won’t give you his name, but their job is to reinforce his role as a father, as if he were the parent my child had been deprived of. In fact, it is his mother and her family that he has been deprived of. My son lives 750 km away, so every time I visit, I travel 1,500 km there and back. This is a huge commitment in terms of my time, energy and money.
Today, I campaign against surrogacy. This story was supposed to be one of friendship, love, solidarity and justice, but it has turned into a tragedy and a source of shame in my life. I believe the state stole my child, as well as my dignity as a woman and a mother.
I am campaigning so that my son can truly be part of his maternal family. I am fighting so that one day he can forgive me and perhaps even love me. I hope that surrogacy will one day be abolished worldwide, so that no woman will ever be exploited as I was and no child will ever be torn from their mother and family again.
(*) The name has been changed.
The testimonies were presented on 4 October 2025 before a packed audience at the Palais du Luxembourg (Paris).