By: Sarah J., Gestational Carrier (3rd Journey)
Location: Katy, Texas / Texas Medical Center
Timeframe: January 2026 – October 2026
People often ask me why I do this. Why I willingly sign up for the morning sickness, the swollen ankles, the injections, and the Texas heat while pregnant—all for a baby I won’t take home.
The answer is complicated, but it usually hits me when I’m driving down I-10 toward the Texas Medical Center, seeing that massive skyline of hospitals rising out of the humidity. I do it because I can. My body knows how to do this. And for the couple I’m carrying for—”M and D,” who live 5,000 miles away in Europe—this science is their only hope.
This isn’t just a pregnancy; it’s a project. It’s a legal contract, a medical marvel, and a deep emotional partnership. This is what it looks like, day by day, in the surrogacy capital of the world.
The Prep: “Controlled Chaos”
Cycle Day 1 – January 15, 2026
The journey didn’t start with a positive test; it started with a calendar. My case manager from the agency sent over the “Cycle Schedule” from the fertility clinic. It’s a color-coded spreadsheet that dictates my life for the next 12 weeks.
Tonight was the first Lupron injection. Lupron quiets my ovaries so I don’t ovulate my own egg. In a gestational surrogacy, the baby must be 100% the Intended Parents’ (or a donor’s) genetics. My job is just the oven.
My husband, Mike, is a pro at this point. We have a station set up in our master bathroom: alcohol swabs, sharps container, and the meds. He pinched my stomach fat (the “subcutaneous” layer) and did the jab. It stings, but it’s the start of something big.
Cycle Day 14 – January 29, 2026
Location: The Lining Check
I drove into the city today for my lining check. Traffic on the 610 Loop was a nightmare, which is standard for Houston at 8:00 AM. I arrived at the clinic—a sleek, glass building near the Galleria.
This isn’t like a regular OB-GYN appointment. It’s high-tech. The ultrasound tech wasn’t looking for a baby; she was measuring the thickness of my endometrium (uterine lining).
“You’re at an 8.5mm triple stripe,” she told me. “Perfect.”
“Triple stripe” is the gold standard. It means the Estrogen patches I’ve been wearing (and changing every other day) are working. My uterus is becoming a plush, sticky pillow for the embryo.
We got the green light: Transfer is scheduled for next week.
The Transfer: “Science Meets Faith”
Transfer Day – February 5, 2026
Texas Medical Center
Transfer day always feels sacred. I wore my “lucky socks” (a surrogacy tradition). Mike drove me because they gave me a mild Valium to relax my uterus, so I wasn’t allowed to drive.
We parked in the massive garage at the Medical Center. Walking into the clinic, the air conditioning was freezing—a sharp contrast to the humid February morning. We checked in, and I drank my mandated 32 ounces of water. You need a full bladder for the ultrasound guidance during the transfer.
We video-called M and D in Europe. It was evening for them. They were crying.
“We are sending you all our love, Sarah,” M said.
I walked into the sterile procedure room. The embryologist came in first.
“We have one beautiful, PGT-A tested Day-5 blastocyst,” he announced. “It’s already hatching.”
PGT-A tested means they’ve biopsied the cells and confirmed it has the correct number of chromosomes. This significantly lowers the risk of miscarriage. In Houston, almost every surrogacy transfer uses tested embryos.
The doctor, a calm man I’ve worked with before, inserted the catheter. On the big monitor, we saw a flash of white light. That was the air bubble containing the embryo.
“Embryo is home,” he said.
We went to Shake Shack afterwards for a burger and fries. It’s an old wives’ tale in the IVF community that salty foods help implantation. I’m not sure about the science, but I’m not arguing with a burger.
The First Trimester: “The Wait and The Worry”
9 Days Past Transfer (9dpt) – February 14, 2026
Valentine’s Day. I went to LabCorp at 7:00 AM for my “Beta” blood draw. This measures the HCG hormone. Home pregnancy tests are fun, but the Beta is the truth.
My agency coordinator called me at noon.
“Sarah, are you sitting down? Your Beta is 340.”
A number over 100 is solid. 340 is fantastic. I texted M and D immediately: Happy Valentine’s Day. You’re pregnant.
6 Weeks Pregnant – March 1, 2026
The Heartbeat Ultrasound
This is the scariest appointment. We know the numbers are rising, but we need to see the flicker.
The probe went in. Silence for ten seconds. And then, a rhythmic woosh-woosh-woosh filled the room.
“Heart rate is 125,” the tech said. “Strong and steady.”
I recorded the sound and sent it to the parents. This is the moment it becomes real. But it’s also the start of the hardest physical part: Progesterone in Oil (PIO) shots.
Because my body didn’t ovulate, I don’t make progesterone naturally yet. I have to inject it into my glute muscle every single night with a 1.5-inch needle. My hips are knotty and bruised. I use a heating pad and a massage gun every night. It’s a labor of love, quite literally.
10 Weeks Pregnant – March 29, 2026
Graduation Day
Today was my last appointment with the fertility clinic (REI). The placenta has taken over hormone production, so I can stop the shots (Thank God!). I am officially “graduating” to my regular OB-GYN in Katy.
This is a huge psychological shift. I am no longer an IVF patient; I am just a pregnant woman.
The Second Trimester: “The Golden Phase”
16 Weeks – May 10, 2026
The Legal Phase Begins
While my belly is popping, the lawyers are getting to work.
In Texas, we do something called a “Validation of Gestational Agreement.” My lawyer and the IPs’ lawyer are filing a petition in the Harris County court. We don’t have to go to court; the judge reviews our contract and the doctor’s affidavit.
Once the judge signs the Pre-Birth Order (PBO), it’s legally done. The hospital is instructed to put M and D’s names on the birth certificate. I will never be listed as the mother.
It gives me such peace of mind. If something happens to me during birth, everyone knows who this baby belongs to. It’s ironclad.
20 Weeks – June 7, 2026
The Anatomy Scan
This is the big one. We went to a specialist Maternal-Fetal Medicine (MFM) clinic for a high-level ultrasound.
M and D joined via Zoom. The tech spent an hour looking at the brain, the four chambers of the heart, the kidneys, and the spine.
“Everything looks perfect,” the doctor said. “And he is definitely a boy.”
We already knew the sex (thanks to the embryo testing), but seeing him look like a real human was emotional. He was sucking his thumb.
After the appointment, I felt the first real kick—a solid thump against my bladder. I rubbed my belly and whispered, “Hey little buddy. Your parents can’t wait to meet you.”
24 Weeks – July 5, 2026
Houston Heat & Glucose Tests
It is July in Houston, which means walking outside feels like walking into a sauna. My ankles are starting to swell. I’m living in flip-flops and maxi dresses.
I went in for the Glucose Tolerance Test (the “Glucola” drink). Surrogates are screened strictly for Gestational Diabetes because we are often slightly older than first-time moms (I’m 32) and the IVF meds can sometimes affect insulin resistance.
I passed with flying colors. To celebrate, I took my own kids to H-E-B and bought way too much “Creamy Creations” ice cream.
I talk to M and D every Sunday. We’ve built a real friendship. They ask about my kids; I ask about the nursery they are painting in Europe. We are managing a life together across an ocean.
The Third Trimester: “The Home Stretch”
30 Weeks – August 16, 2026
The Physical Toll
I’m not going to sugarcoat it: the third trimester is hard. My back aches. I have heartburn that could power a rocket. Sleeping is a logistical puzzle involving five pillows.
I had a check-up today. My blood pressure was slightly elevated—130/85.
“Let’s keep an eye on that,” my OB said.
Preeclampsia is a risk in any pregnancy, but slightly higher in IVF pregnancies. I have to monitor my BP at home twice a day. It’s a reminder that this is a medical sacrifice. I am putting my body on the line.
34 Weeks – September 13, 2026
The Arrival Plan
M and D are flying into Houston next week! They have rented an Airbnb in Montrose, a cool, walkable neighborhood near the Medical Center.
We had a “Birth Plan” call with the agency, the IPs, and me.
- Who is in the room? M and D, plus my husband.
- Epidural? Yes, please. Immediately.
- The “Golden Hour”: As soon as he is born, he goes straight to his parents for skin-to-skin. I want to see them hold him; that’s my reward.
37 Weeks – October 4, 2026
He’s Here.
I woke up at 3:00 AM with that familiar tightening. Not Braxton Hicks. Real contractions.
I timed them: 7 minutes apart.
I woke Mike up. “It’s time.”
We texted the group chat: Baby time! Headed to the hospital.
We arrived at Texas Children’s Pavilion for Women. It’s like a hotel. We got settled in Triage. I was 4cm dilated.
M and D arrived twenty minutes later, looking terrified and excited. They hugged me, and M was shaking. “You look beautiful,” she lied (I was sweating and in pain).
The epidural was placed at 6:00 AM (bless the anesthesiologist). The next few hours were a blur of laughing, watching bad daytime TV, and waiting.
At noon, the pressure changed.
“Okay Sarah,” my doctor said. “It’s time to push.”
It only took three pushes.
At 12:14 PM, a screaming, 7lb 8oz baby boy entered the world.
The doctor didn’t put him on my chest. She passed him directly to M.
I watched from the bed as M and D huddled over him, sobbing. M was kissing his forehead; D was touching his tiny fingers.
My husband squeezed my hand. “You did it, babe.”
I felt empty in my belly, but completely full in my heart. There was no sense of “loss”—just a massive sense of accomplishment. I was the architect who built the house, but I didn’t need to live in it.
The Fourth Trimester: “Recovery and Closure”
2 Weeks Postpartum – October 18, 2026
I am back home in Katy. My body is healing. The bleeding has slowed, and my milk came in with a vengeance.
I agreed to pump breast milk for the baby for six weeks. Every morning, I hook up to the Spectra pump. I freeze the milk in bags, and once a week, M drives out to the suburbs to pick up the cooler.
Seeing her with the baby—who looks exactly like D—is the best closure I could ask for. He is gaining weight. He is loved.
We received the final check from the Escrow company today. It’s a significant amount of money—enough to put a down payment on a new house and pad our kids’ college funds. It’s valid to acknowledge that. The money changes my family’s life, just as the baby changes theirs.
Reflection
Carrying a baby for someone else in Houston isn’t just a transaction. It’s a journey through the absolute peak of modern medicine and the depths of human trust.
I have scars—from the C-section (my first two were vaginal, but this little guy turned breech at the last second), from the PIO shots. But I look at the photos M sends me from Europe, and I know I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Houston might be hot, traffic-clogged, and humid, but it’s also the place where miracles are manufactured every day. I’m just proud I got to be part of the assembly line.
Professional Insights for Intended Parents
- The Timeline: From match to birth, this journey took about 14 months.
- The Medical Reality: Note the mention of “Triple Stripe” lining and “PIO shots.” These are non-negotiable parts of the IVF process in the US.
- The Legal Safety: The “Validation of Gestational Agreement” mentioned in the Second Trimester is what makes Texas such a secure place for IPs.
- The Relationship: A successful journey relies on communication. The Zoom calls and the eventual meeting in Houston were critical for building trust.
(Disclaimer: This is a composite narrative based on standard surrogacy protocols in Houston, Texas, as of 2026. Every medical journey is unique.)
