The heart of Family Makers

When Matt and I married, we were excited to start a family. We imagined children would come naturally, the way they do for so many couples. But our path took a very different turn.

A year into our marriage, we experienced our first pregnancy, and we were full of hope. We even nicknamed the baby “Ziggy,” after the scientific term zygote and the first tiny spark of human development.

Two days after sharing the news and shopping with my mom for baby things, I miscarried. It was devastating, messy, painful, and utterly shocking. I didn’t understand why this was happening.

It wouldn’t be the last loss I experienced.

Over the next several years we tried everything: IUIs, medications, supplements, dozens of appointments with fertility specialists, even immune protocols and clotting treatments.

We endured many losses and nine embryo transfers. One doctor eventually told us that transferring embryos into my body would be “like flushing them down the toilet.”

Desperate to become parents, we also tried to adopt, not once but twice. The first we attempted internationally, only to be cut from the program. The second with a woman carrying a baby boy she planned to place with us.

At 22 weeks, she lost the baby.

It was another devastating chapter in a long journey. I learned very early that wanting a child doesn’t guarantee having one. And yet, in all those years of grief and searching, I learned that sometimes the person who makes your dream possible, is someone you haven’t met yet.

Five years into trying to have a baby, with adoption doors closing and doctors urging us toward a new path, I created a simple online profile one morning looking for a woman who might be willing to help us.

By that very afternoon, I had a message from a young mom named Rebecca. She said she had been searching for a family to help and that when she read our story, she knew she was meant to carry for us.

I wanted so much to believe her, but was nervous because I’d been disappointed before. Still, something about her felt different. A month later, Matt and I attended her son’s first birthday party. We met her entire family. We laughed like old friends. Her father, initially hesitant, hugged us goodbye and wished us luck.

It felt like the beginning of something that may actually work.

We proceeded independently, learning as we went and making mistakes along the way. In December, we transferred two embryos, each given just a 10% chance of surviving.

After everything we had been through, we didn’t dare let ourselves believe it would work.

But it did. We were expecting twins.

She included us in every milestone. Every flutter. Every hiccup. Every moment we had dreamed of but never experienced ourselves, we got to experience it with her.

When she went into labor unexpectedly, we rushed to her side, and through a high risk C-section, our daughter and son were born.

I will never forget the overwhelming gratitude I felt, and still feel, for her.

Years later, after the miraculous natural birth of my daughter, our last remaining embryos still called to me. But with adenomyosis, an emergency ectopic pregnancy, and a difficult C-section behind me, I was told pregnancy wasn’t realistic.

Then, during my 38th birthday dinner, my good friend Ashley offered to be our Surrogate. Within days, we agreed.

Our journey together was seamless, open, and deeply rooted in trust of each other and the knowledge we had about the surrogacy process. Ashley kept the gender a surprise, one small joy in a process filled with medical timing and lost spontaneity.

Nine months later, Ashley delivered our baby boy.

Two women carried miracles for me when my body could not. They restored my hope, my future, and my family.

Because of them, my life’s purpose is crystal clear: To honor Surrogates with the highest level of care, advocacy, education, emotional support, and gratitude possible.

Family Makers exists because of the selflessness of women like you.