Another Sùúrùgate (Surrogate) Journey
서로를 품다| Of Pain, Joy, and Everything In Between | Episode 18 (2025)
DISCLAIMER:
This episode contains heavy themes — a heads-up to anyone who may be emotionally fragile or easily triggered.
“After my first failed cycle, I saved for over a year. I went online to find the best doctor who works with patients with endometriosis. I found this clinic in New York, one of the most expensive states in the US. I decided to take a trip with my husband. It wasn’t cheap; everything added up: tickets and hotel. That cycle cost me $45,000, paid in cash upfront before the procedure.” — Mary Jane (2025)
“The immigration part was scary. I didn’t want a baby to be stuck in Nigeria. How would I cross over with the baby? Once I learned everything, I needed the right information. I got the right link to research from the website. I even emailed the immigration department and got a response. That’s when I knew I was properly hooked up. I made the trip. Today, I’m the one giving other people information about how they can go through this whole process and migrate their baby to the United States.” — Mary Jane (2025)
Opening
May has been an emotional journey on The More Sibyl Podcast, as we’ve opened up deeply personal conversations around the experiences of those impacted by the Suurugate saga. This month, we’ve heard stories that've been raw, powerful, and at times heart-wrenching — but also incredibly important.
In this episode, we continue the series with another courageous voice. Our guest, who has chosen to remain anonymous, generously shares their journey through surrogacy. For clarity, we will refer to her as Mary Jane.
The Early IVF Journey
Since our guest will remain anonymous, I won't be able to conduct my usual interrogation into their childhood (LOL!) This story will begin when she started her fertility journey. After undergoing surgery in 2009, she was advised by her doctors to try conceiving within three months, as the growths they had removed were likely to return. She took that advice seriously and acted quickly — but, despite her efforts, pregnancy didn’t happen.
So she went back to the doctor. That’s when they suggested the possibility of scar tissue causing issues, and IVF was introduced as the next step. She didn’t dwell on the recommendation — didn’t take time to second-guess or delay. Instead, she jumped straight into action, knowing IVF isn’t just physically and emotionally demanding, but financially draining as well.
She described immediately going into what she called “saving mode” — working double shifts and pushing herself hard, all with the support of her husband. The determination in her voice was unmistakable. She wasn’t just hoping for a child — she was building the foundation for it, step by step, paycheck by paycheck.
At that point in her life, she was 27 years old. She had gotten married at 25, just like I had. We shared a quick laugh over that coincidence, and I couldn’t help but relate even more when she mentioned that she used to suffer from endometriosis, something I’ve dealt with too (though I don’t claim it anymore!).
Another thing that stood out to me was the contrast in our environments. She was in California, while I was in Texas. Even though California is considered more liberal, and employers there are sometimes expected to cover more in terms of healthcare, she still had to pay out of pocket for her IVF treatments. In Texas, where I lived, fertility services weren’t even a consideration in many employer insurance policies.
The Real Cost of IVF
In every fertility journey, there are always the grueling attempts of IVF. Mary Jane’s story is not just about fertility treatment. It reminded me of sacrifice, endurance, and the brutal realities of navigating IVF in America.
Her first IVF attempt wasn’t even a complete cycle. The doctors had to cancel it midway because her follicles weren’t growing at the same rate — some were too significant, while others were too small. Waiting for the smaller ones to catch up could’ve risked the larger ones rupturing, so they called it off. Despite not completing the cycle, she still had to pay $4,000, and that didn’t include the $8,000 to $10,000 she’d already spent on medication. Just like that — over $12,000 gone, with nothing to show for it but heartbreak.
Still, she didn’t give up. Mary spent the next year saving again, working hard shifts, determined to keep going. This time, she searched nationwide for a doctor who specialized in treating patients with endometriosis and found one in a state much more expensive than her home in California — New York. She and her husband flew out there, covering flights, hotels, and the procedure itself, which required full payment upfront. The total for that single cycle came to $45,000. Cash.
The procedure initially looked promising. Her body responded well, and the follicle numbers were impressive. But then came the night before her egg retrieval. She was instructed to take oral progesterone at a particular time to trigger egg collection. Just 30 minutes after taking it, she was hit with intense, crippling pain. You see, people who have dealt with endometriosis know pain, so hearing her talk about how severe this pain was, I knew it had to be unbearable. Her husband panicked, ready to call 911, but Mary refused. She knew that if she ended up in a hospital, the entire cycle would be disrupted, and they couldn’t afford that.
The pain was so bad she said that if she didn’t have so much to live for — her dream of having a child, her husband, her mom, her siblings — she might have considered giving up to stop the agony. But she tried to push through the night, and they ended up going to the clinic around 4 a.m.
What had happened was ovarian hyperstimulation. Some of her follicles had ruptured early because they were already mature before she took the injection. She was immediately put on a drip to help with the pain and then sent to the ER. There, the doctors considered emergency surgery — one that might’ve taken up to ten hours. But they deemed her too unstable for the procedure. Instead, they treated her more conservatively and postponed the embryo transfer.
That meant another trip back to California, more recovery, and then returning to New York for the transfer, adding even more to the already expensive cost of that cycle. When she inquired about covering the next phase under what she had already paid, the clinic declined. Since it was a new procedure — no more egg retrieval, but still ultrasounds, prep, and transfer — it required a new payment.
Mary Jane followed all the post-transfer instructions, even lying flat on her back for two weeks straight, hoping it would improve her chances of recovery. She’s naturally energetic, so the stillness was excruciating. But after all that? The clinic called her with a cold, impersonal voice to deliver the news. “Unfortunately, your test result is negative. If you have any questions, let us know.” That was it. No acknowledgment of what she’d been through. No accountability for the complications. Just a suggestion to start another cycle whenever she was ready.
Hearing Mary Jane describe what it felt like to invest so much time, money, energy, and emotion, only to receive such an emotionless call… That’s the reality of living in America. She summed it up plainly: “That whole $45,000 experiment just gone like that.”
It’s a harsh reminder that behind every IVF success story, there are countless untold stories like our guest’s — raw, painful, and unfiltered.
Pain Endures for a Night, But Joy Comes in the Morning
Over eight years, she endured five IVF cycles. And every single one of them came with its burden.
Her third cycle was negative. The fourth cycle brought a fleeting moment of hope, but tragically, she miscarried after just two months, without any apparent reason. That kind of loss, after so much effort, is the kind of pain that words rarely do justice to.
She emphasized that IVF isn’t something you can get up and do on a whim. “They have a lot of procedures,” she said. “They have to be ready for you… Registration process. We have to prep you and make sure that it is time.” And then there’s the financial aspect. You don’t just save a little and go in for a quick visit. You plan. You gather money. You wait. And you hope. “It’s not like a doctor’s appointment or checkup or blood work,” she told me. “It’s a very long process.”
So when people dismiss IVF as “the easy way out,” I hope they pause to listen to stories like Mary Jane’s. There’s nothing easy about it.
And yet, after all of this — the pain, the loss, the waiting — she told me, “The joy right now outweighs all of this pain of trying to explain. I don’t even feel it like that anymore.” She’s now able to tell the story without breaking down, but it wasn’t always that way. “In those days, I probably would have broken down… I would be so overwhelmed.” But now, she says, “My joy is full.”
Hearing her say that made me thank God. It reminded me that healing doesn’t mean forgetting or pretending it didn’t happen — it means being able to speak your truth without being held hostage by it. And for Mary Jane, that’s where she’s at now: full of joy, and finally able to tell the whole story.
The Power of Partnership: Walking the Journey Together
A light in this dark time was her husband. Where African men are generally characterized to be judgmental and impatient of their wives during fertility issues, her husband truly broke the narrative. Despite familial pressure, she described him not just as supportive, but as a true partner—an exceptional man who stood firmly by her side through one of the most painful and uncertain journeys of her life.
In many African marriages, especially when it comes to fertility issues, the pressure can be immense. Families start whispering. Society often assumes the fault lies with the woman, regardless of the actual diagnosis. And yet, Mary Jane’s husband didn’t listen to what others were saying. Instead, he shielded her from that noise.
Every time she broke down in tears, he was there to comfort her. Not just offering comfort, but crying with her. She recalled vividly how he told her, “It breaks my heart when you cry. Don’t cry. I can’t stand it.” In that moment, she knew she had to control her tears. She began holding back her tears, not because the pain was any less, but because she couldn’t bear to see him hurt too.
And when it came to the actual logistics of the fertility process — the appointments, the samples, the travel — he never hesitated. Whether it was a doctor in New York or Los Angeles, he was ready to go. He never once complained. She was reminded of what he said during that time, “What if you were my sister? Why will I leave you alone? I’m in this with you, and whatever comes out of this, I’m ready. We’re going to do this together to the very end.”
She told me how his unwavering support made their marriage a safe place, even amid so much uncertainty. “He didn’t even want me to feel like I was looking for a child for many years. I didn’t feel any threat. I didn’t feel any pressure. I was the one putting the pressure on myself.”
That kind of love-the kind that holds you up when you feel like collapsing, the type that walks every step of the journey with you—is rare and beautiful. “It can only be God,” she said, acknowledging the divine grace in having such a partner. I couldn’t help but agree, telling her how incredibly blessed she is to have experienced both a father’s love and now her husband’s love. “You’re twice blessed,” I said. And the love they share? It’s a love that keeps recycling — pouring into their children, into their home, and every part of their lives.
Embracing a New Path: The Decision to Pursue Surrogacy
At this point, we decided to segue into surrogacy. It wasn’t something she jumped into — far from it. In her IVF journey, eventually, pregnancies began to happen, but none progressed beyond the second or third month. She experienced three miscarriages. Initially, it was endometriosis interfering with implantation. Later, she was told it was endometriosis causing the miscarriages.
Over time, her body endured so much. Yet she kept trying. Each time she switched clinics, she would begin a new cycle, and often, she’d be left with unused embryos. By the time she seriously considered surrogacy, she already had embryos stored at two different clinics, both of which she had to pay to preserve. Still, the years were slipping by, and she knew time was no longer on her side.
There was also a cultural weight to this decision. As she put it, “this typical African woman in me” felt like she had to carry her baby herself. After everything she’d been through, she wanted people to see that she had taken a child — that it had finally happened. That pressure, those expectations, they were real and deeply rooted.
But with age, the reality of declining egg and embryo quality couldn’t be ignored. So she began to look at surrogacy as a real option. Her doctor in California quoted her the cost: $200,000 — U.S. dollars. That fee included legal costs, medical expenses, and compensation for the surrogate mother.
The number alone was staggering. As she said, “That’s money for a mortgage. A whole house.” She didn’t have that kind of cash lying around, and the idea of taking out a loan with no guarantee of success was terrifying. “If I go take a loan, you know, and go pay for this thing, then they're telling me it’s negative. How will I pay for it? And for how long?” That fear gave her cold feet, and she pulled back from the idea for a while.
She tried another cycle instead. It didn’t work.
That’s when she knew — this was the route she had to take. Surrogacy was no longer just an option. It had become the only viable path left.
By then, she was in her early 40s. She started this journey at 25. That’s 16 years of waiting, hoping, and enduring. Fifteen of those years were spent actively trying. This part of her story left me in awe. Not just because of the years it spanned, or the number of trials she endured, but because of the courage it takes to face your fears and say yes to a path you never imagined you’d take.
Navigating Surrogacy
Eventually, she chose to pursue surrogacy in Nigeria mainly because it was significantly more affordable compared to doing it in the U.S. But that didn’t make it an easy decision.
Her clinic choice was based on a recommendation. She mentioned that this is often how people make their decisions — through trusted referrals. Sure, some might go online, stumble on a name, and try to do their research, but for her, even with some online digging, she couldn’t narrow things down with confidence. The fear of falling into the wrong hands was very real. In her words, “I hope I won’t fall into the wrong hands.” What gave her some reassurance was knowing someone who knew someone who had a good outcome from that same clinic. Still, her trust was fragile, and her skepticism lingered.
And then came the emotional toll of distance. As commissioning parents — those who are arranging for the surrogacy — you’re removed from the day-to-day reality of the pregnancy. For me, our first attempt at surrogacy ended in a heartbreaking miscarriage of twins at 14 weeks. By the second attempt, I was carrying all that grief and fear with me. You can listen to my surrogacy journey in our previous episodes this month. They will be linked in the show notes.
Anxiety is etched into this process, and we are forced to learn to deal with it. In her experience, her mind was racing nonstop. She acknowledged how integrity issues can sometimes affect processes in Nigeria. Though she was careful to say this isn’t exclusive to Nigeria, she had heard real stories of people being deceived. She even knew someone who had traveled to Nigeria, spent a lot of money, and ended up discovering the process wasn’t even real.
Even after visiting the clinic herself, meeting the doctor, and hearing success stories, doubts plagued her. What if the surrogate runs away? What if she keeps the baby? She wasn’t allowed to speak to, see, or even get a photo of the surrogate. All she had to hold onto was faith, and she leaned on it hard. She decided to take it one day at a time.
One thing she made sure of was to go above and beyond in supporting the surrogate. Although she was already paying a significant amount for the entire process, she didn’t know how much of that was going directly to the woman carrying her baby. She worried that it might not be enough for the surrogate to take care of herself truly, and even if it was, there might be other pressing financial needs. So Mary Jane gave extra support to ensure the woman was healthy, comfortable, and well-fed. As she said, “Keeping her healthy was the key to a healthy baby, too.”
Despite the fear, the anxiety, and the what-ifs, Mary Jane stayed hopeful. “I would say 60%, I was expecting,” she said. “I was positive, I was expecting a result.” And by God’s grace, that’s exactly what she got. Everything worked out.
She now has two beautiful children — her oldest just turned three, and her youngest recently celebrated their first birthday. Hearing her journey made me appreciate the unseen weight so many carry in silence.
Parenting After the Storm: Joy That Outweighs the Pain
Now that she is a parent, she finds fulfillment in motherhood. “It’s interesting, it’s taxing, it’s joyful, and it’s very fulfilling,” were her exact words.
I asked her plainly if it had all been worth it — the years of procedures, the heartbreaks, the uncertainties. Her answer? “Oh, worth it, worth it, worth it.” She told me that now, even as she shares her story, she sometimes finds herself hesitant, not out of pain, but because she doesn’t feel those wounds anymore. “I don’t feel bad pains anymore. I can’t even believe I went through all that.” That’s how much her current joy has eclipsed her past sorrows.
But she didn’t sugarcoat the journey. She made it clear — it was a painful experience. It was overwhelming. It was sad. She had moments of deep withdrawal, moments where the idea of social gatherings felt unbearable. She recalled avoiding events because she couldn’t bear the whispers or the looks. “Oh my goodness, I’m not going to that party. They’re going to say, ‘Here she comes again,’” she remembered.
As she put it, what she has now outweighs all of that. And honestly, like she said, “Thank God. He’s given us gladness for all of our sorrows.” What a testimony. It’s like the scripture says, “Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.” (Romans 8:18).
Finding the Missing Link: Navigating Surrogacy and Immigration from Nigeria to the U.S.
One of the most significant gaps I’ve noticed in conversations around surrogacy, especially for those of us living abroad, is what happens after the baby is born. For U.S. citizens who travel to Nigeria for surrogacy, how do you bring your child home? That critical step is often left out of the narrative, and I knew Mary Jane would have powerful insights to share on it.
When Nigeria became a more viable option for attempting surrogacy, a friend in Canada mentioned someone who had gone through the process there. When Mary Jane tried to reach out, the woman was unwilling to share any information. She encountered that same resistance again with another contact in Houston.
Eventually, though, she connected with a woman who was in a similar situation. And even though it might not have made sense at the time, she stayed close, calling her, encouraging the relationship, and sharing every new piece of information she came across. Before this time, going on this journey had been incredibly lonely.
When that woman mentioned she was considering Nigeria, Mary Jane was eager to learn more. The woman's cousin had just completed the process, and once the details started trickling in, she was ready. She received a referral, began speaking with a clinic and a doctor, and soon, she and her husband were making travel plans. However, the immigration aspect was the most concerning part.
“I don’t want to have a baby that will be stuck in Nigeria,” she said, and that fear was real. But once she received the right information, everything changed. She found the correct link to conduct online research, even emailed the Department of Immigration, and received a response. With clarity and confidence, she made the trip — and now she’s the one providing others with the very same guidance she once so desperately needed.
“I’m thrilled to be in the position to help other women find joy, find solutions,” she said. And she is. Mary Jane didn’t isolate herself after her success — something that would have been understandable. Instead, she’s opened the door even wider. Her transparency and generosity have been a gift, not just to me, but to everyone we hope to support through these conversations.
What No One Tells You About the U.S. Embassy Process After Surrogacy Abroad
The emotional rollercoaster of surrogacy doesn’t end at birth, especially for those of us navigating the U.S. immigration process from Nigeria. Most conversations stop at choosing a surrogate, but what happens after the baby is born? That’s where CRBA — the Consular Report of Birth Abroad — comes in.
Mary Jane shared how she began her process early. The moment she decided to pursue surrogacy in Nigeria, she contacted the U.S. Embassy via email. She let them know, “We are U.S. citizens, and this is our intention.” She explained why she was going overseas and asked when the process should begin. Even though she knew she couldn’t apply without a birth certificate, she just wanted to establish communication. The embassy responded right away with congratulations and a checklist link for once the baby was born.
Her biggest advice? Familiarize yourself with the embassy’s website early. Start collecting all the required documents before your baby even arrives. That includes proof of U.S. citizenship, your marriage certificate, travel records, and clinic paperwork. Having everything ready means you can submit your application as soon as you have the birth certificate — and that’s critical, because appointment dates can be months away due to growing demand. The earlier you apply, the earlier you’ll likely be seen.
And I have to co-sign all of it. We just had our embassy interview last month. Everything Mary Jane said is precisely what we experienced. One tip I can’t share publicly — but I'm happy to discuss privately — is how to secure a faster appointment. That said, even for the basics, you need airtight documentation—every single step of your clinic journey matters. If you visited the clinic in Nigeria, your passport stamp should match that date. Whether the embryo was from your eggs or your partner’s sperm, you’ll need to show that one of you is biologically related to the child. Gather proof of payment to the clinic and antenatal providers, copies of the surrogacy contract, and if you weren’t present at birth, be ready to explain why.
A DNA test may be required, but only after your appointment. You can’t do it ahead of time. The embassy will issue an order if necessary. You’ll also need to prove your physical presence in the U.S., which may require submitting tax returns, Social Security benefit statements, or employment records. For older children, even photo evidence of their growth may be requested. The CRBA fee is around $100, but that’s just one piece — arrange everything. I had separate folders for the passport, the CRBA, and another for original documents, such as our marriage license and birth certificates.
We’re putting together a downloadable checklist to help others, but ultimately, the U.S. Embassy’s checklist will always be your most current and reliable source.
Mary Jane also emphasized that this immigration process is officially referred to as “child of a citizen born abroad.” You need to prove your connection to the child so they can be granted U.S. citizenship before even leaving Nigeria. Only after the process is completed will the child be issued a U.S. passport.
One final piece of advice? Be patient. This isn’t a process you can rush. I had to spend two months and two weeks in Nigeria, and we still couldn’t bring our baby home immediately. But I leaned into the same patience I had during my TTC (trying-to-conceive) journey. A baby came out of all this. That’s what matters. Everything else will sort itself out in time.
The Emotional Complexity of Surrogacy and Attachment
There was something I went through in my own experience: after so many years of praying, waiting, and then finally becoming a parent, I found myself feeling… tired. Numb, even. I expected joy to wash over me the moment I saw my son, but instead, I found myself watching my daughter’s reaction to him — her pure, unfiltered happiness — and leaning into that instead. It was like I had been on such a long, emotionally exhausting journey that by the time the miracle finally arrived, I didn’t have the strength left to feel it fully.
I asked Mary Jane if she had ever experienced something similar. Her answer was both “yes and no.” She shared that those mixed emotions came during the pregnancy stage. Even though she was expecting a baby via surrogacy, she still longed for the physical connection — the feeling of waking up pregnant, carrying her child.
In fact, at the same time she initiated the surrogacy process, she also decided to go through a personal cycle herself. She also wanted to try carrying the baby. Her thinking was pragmatic: she wanted to have a baby by the following year, and with her past experiences of unsuccessful cycles, she didn’t want to risk losing more time. So she went through a transfer, and so did the surrogate. Both procedures were done in tandem, and for a while, they were both pregnant.
Four months into the pregnancy, she miscarried. It was a moment of loss, no doubt, but this time, it felt different. Instead of falling into total despair, she felt like she was still holding onto hope, because there was still a baby growing in someone else's womb. “I was expecting more, but now I’m expecting less. But I’m still expecting,” she said.
Instead, she made sure to be deeply involved in the delivery. She arranged with the clinic and the doctor to be present in the room, and they granted her request. She was there when her daughter was born — handed to her almost immediately — and from that moment, she felt fully connected. Emotionally. Spiritually. Everything. She was there. She was present.
When she said all this, I understood exactly what she meant. Her journey may not have unfolded traditionally, but her attachment to her daughter was genuine and profound. And even though she still wished the other pregnancy had worked out — so she could have had more babies — she ended up with a beautiful baby girl. And that made all the difference.
Shifting the Narrative Around Surrogacy
One of the things that came up as we wrapped up our conversation was close to my heart — the need to normalize conversations about surrogacy, especially within African communities. I asked Mary Jane how she thinks we can begin to shift the narrative and create space for more open, understanding discussions around it.
Her response was clear: it’s not about seeking acceptance, it’s about encouraging understanding. Everyone’s path to parenthood is different, and rather than judging or jumping to conclusions, people need to start by educating themselves. She pointed out that many still don’t know what’s possible when it comes to reproductive technologies — or worse, they choose not to know. For some, it sounds like magic or something unexplainable. However, the truth is that information is readily available. The process is real. The science is solid. And it’s helping people achieve their dreams of becoming parents in ways that weren’t possible before.
Mary Jane was honest about her own experience. When she decided to go the route of surrogacy, she made peace with the fact that she didn’t owe anyone an explanation. Her decision was about fulfilling her desire to become a mother, not about convincing others to do the same. She knew some people wouldn’t understand, no matter how much she tried to explain. Some assumed she’d been adopted and was just being secretive about it. Others thought she somehow just “got a baby from somewhere.” And instead of wasting energy trying to justify her journey to those who were unwilling to listen, she focused on sharing what she could with those who could understand.
For her, the most important thing is that people educate themselves. Learn about what’s possible. Find out how the process works. Ask questions. When a woman says she has a child through surrogacy, the response shouldn’t be confusion or judgment — it should be understanding. Because yes, this is her child. And yes, this is possible.
As Mary Jane said, if we don’t understand something and still choose to judge it, that’s ignorance. And it’s precisely what keeps people from speaking out and sharing their truths, which is why conversations like this one matter —and why this podcast exists. So people can ask the hard questions, hear real experiences, and start unlearning what they thought they knew. Because the more we talk, the more we understand. And that’s how the narrative begins to shift.
Finding Hope Through the Process
As we began to close out our conversation, I asked Mary Jane what words she might have for anyone currently walking the same path she once did — struggling with infertility, considering surrogacy, and feeling completely overwhelmed by it all. Her answer was powerful and deeply grounded in lived experience.
She said the one thing that never gave her results was giving in to sadness. Crying, feeling defeated, and trying to give up only left her with headaches, allergies, and a deep sense of disappointment in herself. It didn’t bring her any closer to the family she wanted. So her message was simple: there is hope. A lot of hope.
She emphasized the importance of reaching out to the right sources, getting accurate information, and planning. For her, moving forward with purpose and knowledge was what kept her going. She reminded me — and anyone listening — that it’s only human to feel down, but we can’t let that become the final destination. Feeling low might be part of the process, but it’s not what brings the breakthrough.
Mary Jane was also really clear about something that I think many of us need to hear: You don’t owe anyone anything. If you decide to take a different route to become a parent, you don’t have to justify it to anyone. What matters is your joy, your fulfillment, and your life. She said it best — when you finally get your results, when you finally have your child, you’ll be so happy you chose the path that worked for you.
She also brought it back to the concept of gratitude. Even when the journey doesn’t go the way we imagined — waking up, feeling sick, going to the clinic, and being told we’re pregnant — there’s still room to be thankful for life and the options we do have. For her, surrogacy is one of those options made possible by God. “If God didn’t make it possible,” she said, “they wouldn’t have discovered it.” That resonated so deeply. She truly believes these scientific advances are part of God’s provision for women who find themselves in difficult fertility situations.
But she didn’t sugarcoat the process. She reminded us that even with surrogacy, success isn’t guaranteed. “Like I shared,” I added, “the first time we did it, we lost twins. It took trying again for it to work.” And she agreed — it’s all a process. Even when the child is genetically related to you, even with all the proper steps, it might not happen right away. Miscarriages, negative pregnancy tests — those things can still happen. But when you decide to go that route, you’re getting closer to your goal. It’s like writing an exam — you might not get the score you want the first time, but if you don’t try again, you’ll never get there.
Encouraging Strength, Support, and Understanding in the Journey to Parenthood
As we wrapped up our conversation, Mary Jane shared some essential words, especially for women facing infertility and the husbands who walk that path alongside them. She reminded us that infertility can have countless causes — far more than many people realize — and it’s not about blame or spiritual failure. Mary Jane’s family history shows that even when mothers and relatives had no struggles, it doesn’t mean every woman will have the same experience. Bodies change in ways we can’t always predict, and infertility can happen to anyone.
Her message to women was clear: if you find yourself in this situation, know there are solutions and hope. But she also reached out specifically to husbands, mainly African men, urging them to be patient and supportive. She encouraged them not to give up or look elsewhere because of the stress infertility can cause. After all, infertility isn’t a reflection on a woman’s worth or a marriage’s strength — it can affect anyone, including daughters and cousins. She made a heartfelt plea for men to work alongside their wives through this journey, reminding us that support truly matters.
We discussed how challenging this road can be. Mary Jane opened up about the physical and emotional toll infertility took on her — the weight gain, the pain, the mental health struggles. She shared how her endometriosis was both a cause and a challenge because treatment often meant postponing pregnancy, and pregnancy meant postponing treatment. Doctors even told her she had to choose between managing her health and trying to conceive, a heartbreaking dilemma many women face.
She gave a poignant example about a friend offering her a “miracle” medication. Still, after careful checking, she realized it would worsen her endometriosis and might put her life in danger. That tough decision — to refuse what might seem like a quick fix because it could cause more harm — speaks to the complexity of infertility treatments. It’s not just a matter of trying harder; it’s about navigating complicated medical realities with wisdom and courage.
Despite all these struggles — the weight issues, the painful flare-ups, the emotional rollercoaster — Mary Jane’s words carried a powerful encouragement: don’t let these challenges discourage you. If you’re a woman considering this journey, hold on to the faith that it’s worth it. When you finally hold your child in your arms, all the pain and hardship will fade into the background.
As we closed the episode, I reflected on Mary Jane’s journey — not just as a story about infertility or surrogacy, but as a testament to hope, faith, patience, and unyielding love. She spoke tenderly about the support from her husband and the love she’s now passing on to her children. Her story challenges stigma, embraces unconventional paths to parenthood, and offers inspiration to anyone facing their trials.
If you’ve been listening and carrying your burdens, I hope her story reminds you that hope is never lost. There is community and faith to lean on, and light awaits on the other side of even the darkest moments. Your path may look different, but embracing it and creating your journey is a powerful act of courage.
Thank you for joining us in this heartfelt conversation. I encourage you to listen to the full episode to truly appreciate the depth of Mary Jane’s experience and the valuable insights she shares. Together, we can build understanding and celebrate every kind of family.
Until next time, take care of yourselves and each other. I remain your host, MO.
Considering Surrogacy or Global Family-Building?
HOPES (Helping Our People Expand Safely) offers culturally grounded coaching, resources, and community for families navigating surrogacy and CRBA (Consular Report of Birth Abroad). Join our safe and supportive space to receive personalized guidance rooted in lived experience and care. Complete the HOPES Intake Form to get started and receive an invite to our private support group. Note: This is not a legal or medical service — just a compassionate first step toward clarity and empowerment.
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Download: https://mcdn.podbean.com/mf/web/7ysfdy59ysci4njt/MARYJANE2025.mp3
Or on the website: www.mosibyl.com
Previously on the Suurugate series: