My dearest child,
As I write this, you’re sleeping peacefully in the nursery we’ve been preparing for months. It’s 2 AM in Houston, Texas, and I can’t help but marvel at the incredible journey that brought you to us. This is the story of how you came to be—a story of science, hope, trust, and love that stretched across an ocean.
The Beginning: When We Decided to Find You
Before you existed, there was a longing in our hearts. Your mom and I had been trying to have a baby for five long years. We tried everything medical science in China had to offer—multiple rounds of IVF, different treatments, countless doctor visits. Each month ended in disappointment, and each year that passed made us feel more hopeless.
One rainy Beijing evening in 2021, we sat at our kitchen table with spreadsheets and medical reports scattered everywhere. I was 39, your mom was 37, and the statistics were becoming increasingly discouraging. That’s when we first seriously discussed surrogacy in the United States.
Why America? It wasn’t an easy decision. The distance, the cost, the complexity—it was daunting. But America offered what China could not: clear legal protection for intended parents, access to egg donation, and a medical system that specialized in complex fertility cases.
Why Houston? This became our next question. We researched California, New York, Illinois, but kept coming back to Texas. The numbers told a compelling story:
- Cost: Approximately 30% less than California for comparable medical quality
- Legal Certainty: Texas has clear surrogacy laws that protect intended parents
- Medical Excellence: The Texas Medical Center is the largest medical complex in the world
- Efficiency: Faster matching times with gestational carriers
But beyond the data, something about Houston felt right. Maybe it was the city’s reputation for welcoming diverse communities. Maybe it was the practical, can-do attitude Texans are known for. Or maybe it was just intuition telling us this was where we’d find you.
Finding Your Genetic Roots
This might be the most sensitive part of your story, sweetheart, and we want to tell it with complete honesty.
After many difficult conversations, we decided to use an egg donor. Your mom’s eggs weren’t viable anymore, and we wanted to give you the best possible start. This was heartbreaking for her—the idea that you wouldn’t share her genetic material. But we came to understand that genetics are only one part of what makes a parent.
Choosing your egg donor was one of the most surreal experiences of our lives. We worked with an agency that had profiles of hundreds of donors. We had specific criteria:
- Asian ethnicity (so you’d look like you belonged in our family)
- Good health and genetic screening
- Some college education
- A kind face in her photos
We eventually chose a 26-year-old Chinese-American graduate student. Let’s call her “Lily.” She had warm eyes, a good family health history, and wrote in her profile that she wanted to help create families. We’ll probably never meet her, and that’s okay. Her gift was anonymous, and we respect that.
Creating your embryos happened in a Houston lab in July 2021. I flew to Houston to provide sperm samples. Lily’s eggs were retrieved in California and flown to Texas. In a laboratory at the Texas Medical Center, an embryologist used a technique called ICSI (intra-cytoplasmic sperm injection) to help create embryos.
Out of 24 eggs retrieved, 20 fertilized successfully. Those embryos grew for five days until they became blastocysts. Then came the genetic testing—PGT-A—to make sure they were chromosomally normal. Six healthy embryos made it through. Six potential versions of you.
We chose to transfer the one the embryologist graded highest: 5AA. Not because we believed in grading systems, but because we needed to start somewhere. That embryo would become you.
Meeting Sarah: The Woman Who Carried You
If the egg donor gave you half your genetics, Sarah gave you your first home. Finding the right gestational carrier was perhaps the most important decision we made.
The matching process felt like online dating combined with a job interview. Our agency showed us profiles of potential carriers. We video-interviewed three before meeting Sarah.
Sarah was 32, a kindergarten teacher from suburban Houston, married to Mike (an engineer), with two children of her own (7 and 5). What stood out wasn’t her perfect health history (though that was important) or her previous uncomplicated pregnancies (also important). It was her heart.
During our video interview, she asked us: “Why do you want to be parents?” Not “What are your requirements?” or “What’s your budget?” but “Why do you want to be parents?”
Your mom teared up telling our story. Sarah listened with such compassion. Then she shared hers: “I have two healthy kids. I know how much joy they bring. If I can help someone else experience that, I want to.”
But what really sealed it for us was something she said at the end: “I want you to know—this will be your baby. I’m just the temporary caretaker. I’m good at setting emotional boundaries.”
Signing the contract was surreal. Eighty-five pages detailing every possible scenario. Medical decisions, compensation, insurance, what happens if… The lawyers walked us through it all. Sarah joked: “Let’s hope we never need most of these clauses!”
What the contract couldn’t capture was the relationship that was developing. The weekly video calls. The pictures of her kids. The recipes we exchanged (she loved the Chinese soup recipes your grandmother sent). The growing sense that we weren’t just entering a business arrangement—we were welcoming someone into our extended family.
The Pregnancy: Watching You Grow From Afar
The embryo transfer happened on December 10, 2021. We flew to Houston for it. The actual procedure took maybe 10 minutes. We watched on an ultrasound screen as the embryologist loaded that tiny speck—the embryo that would become you—into a catheter, and the doctor gently placed it in Sarah’s uterus.
Then came the longest 10 days of our lives. The “two-week wait.” Sarah texted us updates:
- Day 3: “A little cramping, but that’s normal”
- Day 7: “I caved and took a home test. Faint line!”
- Day 10: Blood test confirmed it. You were there.
Pregnancy during a pandemic, from another continent, was an exercise in trust and technology.
The technology that connected us:
- MyChart: Houston Methodist’s patient portal where all test results posted instantly
- WeChat: For daily check-ins with Sarah
- Zoom: For doctor appointments we “attended” from Beijing at 3 AM
- Shared photo albums: Where Sarah posted bump pictures
Key milestones we witnessed (often in the middle of the Beijing night):
- 8 weeks: First ultrasound with heartbeat. We cried.
- 12 weeks: NT scan. Everything measuring perfectly.
- 20 weeks: Anatomy scan. We flew to Houston for this one. Finding out you were a boy. Seeing all your tiny organs developing correctly.
- 28 weeks: Viability milestone. The point where if you were born, you’d likely survive.
- 32 weeks: Growth ultrasound. You were measuring right on track.
Sarah was a dream. She sent weekly updates, answered our (many) questions patiently, and somehow made us feel involved despite the 13-hour time difference and 7,000-mile distance.
The Legal Part: Making Sure You Were Ours
One of the biggest reasons we chose Texas was the legal clarity. In many states, the legal process happens after birth. In Texas, we could get what’s called a “pre-birth order”—a court judgment issued before you were born declaring us your legal parents.
Here’s how it worked:
- Our lawyer filed paperwork when Sarah was 20 weeks pregnant
- The court scheduled a hearing for when she was 22 weeks
- We participated via video from Beijing
- The judge asked a few questions:
- Did everyone enter the surrogacy agreement voluntarily?
- Did everyone understand their rights and responsibilities?
- Was this arrangement in the best interest of the child?
- The judge issued the order: We were your legal parents, effective immediately
What this meant:
- When you were born, the birth certificate would list us as “Mother” and “Father”
- Sarah would never be listed as your mother
- No adoption would be necessary
- You were ours, legally, before you took your first breath
This legal certainty gave us peace of mind that’s hard to describe. In the complex world of international surrogacy, knowing the legal foundation was solid let us focus on the excitement of your arrival.
Houston: The City That Made It Possible
As your due date approached, we spent more time in Houston, and we grew to love this city that was becoming part of your origin story.
What surprised us about Houston:
The medical system was seamlessly integrated. At the Texas Medical Center, Sarah’s OB, our reproductive endocrinologist, the genetic counselor, and the perinatal specialist all shared records and coordinated care. We had one patient coordinator who scheduled everything. Coming from China’s more fragmented system, this was a revelation.
The people defied stereotypes. Yes, we met traditional Texans. But we also met:
- The Chinese-American nurse who helped translate medical terms
- The conservative judge who focused solely on the law, not her personal views
- The diverse medical teams from all over the world
- The Houstonians who asked about our journey and celebrated with us
The practical support for international patients. From the hospital’s international department that helped with paperwork to the short-term housing specialists who found us a furnished apartment near the medical center, Houston had systems for people like us.
Your Birth Story
September 15, 2022. Your due date was September 20, but you had other plans.
Sarah texted at 3 AM Houston time: “Contractions 10 minutes apart. Heading to hospital soon.”
We were on a plane 12 hours later. The 15-hour flight from Beijing to Houston was the longest of our lives. No internet. No updates. Just hope and prayer.
When we landed and turned on our phones:
- 5:00 AM: Sarah at hospital, 4 cm dilated
- 8:00 AM: Epidural placed
- 10:00 AM: Fully dilated
- 10:47 AM: YOU arrived
There was a photo from Mike, Sarah’s husband. A tiny, red, crying baby. 7 pounds, 3 ounces. Perfect Apgar scores.
At the hospital, Sarah looked tired but radiant. “He’s perfect,” she said.
The nurse asked: “Would you like to hold your son?”
I looked at your mom. She nodded through tears. I took you in my arms for the first time. You were so light, so warm. You opened your eyes for a second, then fell back asleep.
The next three days in the hospital were a blur of paperwork, feeding attempts, and overwhelming love. Sarah was discharged after two days. We had a quiet moment before she left.
She held you one last time, kissed your forehead, and whispered: “Be good for your parents. They waited so long for you.”
Then she handed you to me. “Thank you,” I said, though words felt inadequate.
“Thank you for letting me be part of this,” she replied.
Paperwork, Passports, and Coming Home
The bureaucratic process was surprisingly smooth:
Week 1 in Houston:
- Birth certificate (listing us as parents)
- Social Security number application
- U.S. passport application
- Chinese Travel Document application
Week 2:
- All documents received
- Packed up our temporary Houston life
- Said goodbye to the city that helped create our family
The flight home with a 3-week-old baby was its own adventure. You slept most of the way, thank goodness.
Back in Beijing, we had one more bureaucratic hurdle: registering you in China’s household system. With our U.S. documents properly authenticated and translated, it took about a month, but it worked. You were officially a Chinese citizen, with a Beijing hukou (household registration), born in Houston, Texas.
To Our Son: What We Want You to Know
As you grow up, you might have questions. You might wonder about your story. Here’s what we want you to know:
About genetics: You have my DNA and the DNA of a generous young woman we’ve never met. Genetics give you your hair color, your height potential, your smile. But they don’t determine who you are. That comes from your experiences, your choices, the love you give and receive.
About Sarah: For nine months, her body kept you safe and helped you grow. She did this not because she had to, but because she wanted to help create a family. We will always be grateful to her. We send her pictures on your birthday. She’s part of your story, but not your daily life—and that’s okay.
About Houston: You were conceived in a lab in the Texas Medical Center, carried by a woman in suburban Houston, born at Houston Methodist Hospital. The city’s medical expertise, legal system, and the kindness of its people made your existence possible. You are, in a small way, a Houstonian.
About being “different”: Your family came together in an unconventional way. Some kids have a mom and dad who conceived them the old-fashioned way. Some have two moms or two dads. Some are adopted. Some, like you, came through assisted reproduction. All these stories are about love finding a way.
Most importantly: You were wanted, planned for, fought for, and loved before you even existed. Your arrival was the culmination of years of hope, months of medical procedures, weeks of legal paperwork, and countless acts of kindness from strangers who became part of our story.
Why We’re Telling You This
We’re writing this down now, while the details are fresh, because someday you’ll ask. “Where did I come from?” isn’t a simple question for you.
We want you to hear it from us first. We want you to know that your story, while unusual, is beautiful. It involves science and law, yes, but more importantly, it involves hope, perseverance, trust, and extraordinary generosity.
When you’re old enough, we’ll show you the pictures:
- The ultrasound at 8 weeks
- Sarah’s growing belly
- The Houston hospital where you were born
- The documents that made you ours
- The first time we held you
We’ll answer your questions honestly, at an age-appropriate level. We’ll help you understand that families are created in many ways, and what matters isn’t how you get there, but the love that holds you together once you arrive.
Final Thoughts: Gratitude
As I finish this letter, it’s nearly dawn in Houston. You’re stirring in your crib, about to wake for your early morning feeding. In a few hours, we’ll board a plane back to Beijing, to the life and home that’s been waiting for you.
Before we close this chapter, we need to say thank you.
Thank you to the medical team at the Texas Medical Center. Your expertise made the impossible possible.
Thank you to Sarah and her family. Your generosity changed our lives.
Thank you to “Lily,” the egg donor. Your gift was anonymous but profound.
Thank you to the lawyers and judges who created a system that protects children and families, however they’re formed.
Thank you to Houston, for being a city where science, compassion, and practicality come together to make miracles happen.
And thank you, our precious son, for choosing us. For being the happy ending to our long journey. For every smile, every cry, every moment of the future we get to spend as a family.
However you came to us, you are ours. However we came to you, we are yours. Forever.
With all our love,
Mom and Dad
Houston, Texas
October 2022
