Bold claim: surrogacy can change a life, but it also hides a harsh reality that too few people discuss. Briana Hernandez, a 31-year-old mother from Arizona now living in Ohio, turned to surrogacy after watching a close friend struggle with infertility. She says carrying another person’s child became one of the most transformative experiences of her life and allowed her to earn up to $75,000. Yet she also warns that without strong ethical and medical oversight, the process can carry serious risks for both surrogates and families who rely on them.
Hernandez emphasizes that surrogacy is not just a feel-good story. In environments where rigorous screening and protections are absent, consequences can be severe. Surrogates may end up caring for children they never intended to raise or face dangerous childbirth complications because they weren’t properly evaluated or cleared to carry a pregnancy in the first place.
“I would never tell someone not to be a surrogate,” she told the Daily Mail. “If you’re in the right mental space, it can be completely life-changing. But there’s so much people don’t realize goes into it.” Hernandez, a single mother, says her motivation grew from witnessing infertility up close. She recalls: a best friend’s struggle to conceive and a former high school classmate who had served as a surrogate. After discussions with that person, she felt drawn to the path.
Across many reputable agencies, the norm is that would-be surrogates have already carried and delivered their own children. The idea is to prove not only that a body can carry a pregnancy, but that it has the resilience to do so under controlled conditions. Hernandez notes that intended parents invest significant resources and expect reliability, so agencies require evidence of a successful prior pregnancy.
In the United States, gestational surrogacy typically costs between $100,000 and $150,000 when you include medical procedures, legal fees, agency fees, and the surrogate’s compensation. The exact figure varies by state and by the medical complexities involved.
Hernandez’s own journey required IVF rather than natural conception. She explains that the process is akin to convincing her body it’s pregnant: when naturally pregnant, the body produces estrogen and progesterone; when not, these hormones are supplied externally through daily estrogen pills and progesterone shots.
The embryo—created in a lab from the intended mother’s egg and the partner’s sperm—gets transferred into the surrogate’s uterus. Hernandez clarifies: “The baby is 100 percent theirs. I’m just carrying.”
Compensation and expenses can differ widely by agency and location. Hernandez indicates that first-time surrogates often earn between $40,000 and $50,000, while her agency paid between $65,000 and $75,000. She adds that all medical costs and travel expenses were covered, and there are allowances for maternity clothing and related items. Yet she stresses that money isn’t the sole driver. “There’s a financial aspect, sure,” she concedes, “but the goal was to help someone become a parent who couldn’t do it themselves.”
Despite carrying a child for nine months, Hernandez says she never felt torn about giving the baby to his biological parents. “Not at all,” she says. “I understood this isn’t my baby.” Both intended parents were present at delivery, with the father cutting the umbilical cord and the baby immediately meeting his parents for skin-to-skin contact. Hernandez even spent a hospital night in the same room, a final moment of bonding before the family took their child home.
However, not all surrogacy stories unfold positively. Hernandez reveals that she has received countless unsolicited messages from people seeking to hire surrogates without agencies or legal protections. In those cases, the path can become dangerous. She argues that legitimate agencies provide contracts, lawyers, and protections that help prevent serious problems, such as surrogates being left with the child due to missing or flawed agreements.
Reputable surrogacy programs also require intensive screening. Hernandez underwent hours of psychological evaluations, medical testing, financial background checks, and home visits. Agencies assess the surrogate’s mental health, living environment, and family dynamics, and perform similar checks on intended parents. Surrogates typically must meet strict criteria, including age ranges (roughly early 20s to early 40s), a clean medical history with no major pregnancy complications, and financial stability that demonstrates independence from government assistance. Hernandez adds, “There’s a reason for that—you're entrusted with carrying someone else’s child.”
Surrogacy has recently become a hotter topic, partly due to celebrity involvement. In early 2026, singer Meghan Trainor faced online backlash after revealing she used a surrogate for her third child. While Trainor cited medical reasons, critics argued it sent mixed signals about pregnancy and body image. The discussion extended to other public figures, such as Kim Kardashian, who welcomed children via surrogacy after significant pregnancy complications. Critics questioned whether celebrity outsourcing amplifies expectations about pregnancy and postpartum life, and whether it highlights inequities in access to this path.
Hernandez says she set boundaries about the families she would work with, preferring to help someone medically unable to carry a pregnancy rather than someone who simply doesn’t want to gain weight. Still, she notes that each situation is unique. “Pregnancy is hard,” she says, “but this was about changing someone’s life.” The experience left her with gratitude and perspective rather than regret. “People walk away with a child because of me,” she reflects, “and that’s incredible.”
She also warns that surrogacy isn’t a quick payout or a casual side job. It’s physically demanding, and IVF can be grueling. Thorough screening and mental preparation are essential. Her final advice is clear: pursue it the right way, protect yourself, and ensure your motivations are sound.
Would you consider surrogacy if it meant helping others build a family, or would concerns about ethics, safety, or money steer you away? What protections would you want in place to feel comfortable if you were involved, and where do you think the line should be drawn between compassion and commercialization? Your thoughts matter.
