Serial Surrogacy: The inner life of a surrogate mother:

If her past experiences are anything to go by, Jill knows what is in store once her job is done.

She will return to her two-bedroom flat in Brighton, where she lives alone with three rescue cats, and cry her eyes out, telling herself that she is simply feeling hormonal and it's not the baby she weeps for.

"This is definitely the last one," says Jill. "This pregnancy has been much harder than all the others. In the past the pregnancies have fitted around my life, but this one has completely dominated it. I'm also getting older now, so, no, there won't be any more surrogate babies."

Jill, however, has said this before. She said it after baby number four, baby number five and baby number six - born two years ago - but always explained away her change of mind by saying she was 'addicted' to being pregnant.
This time, she insists, she really means it. She has apparently conquered her addiction.

"I feel very differently about this pregnancy. Before, I had such low self-esteem the only time I felt needed, special or loved was when I was carrying a baby inside me,"

..."In a way, it's like running away from yourself. You can put your life on hold and leave your problems behind for nine months.

And you always feel like you have company, especially in the later months when the baby's kicking and squirming inside. People treat you differently when you're pregnant, too. They're nicer. (Except for elderly ladies at grocery stores. They'll still cut in line, even if you're nine months gravid with ankles swelling out over your shoes. ) Isn't it funny how we have all these discussions about the "ethics" of things like surrogate pregnancy but rarely address the very important emotional aspects of them?