Gestational
surrogates and celebrity moms
In great measure, infertility
has remained a private matter, safely out of the limelight, with
a few notable exceptions. Elizabeth Kane (a pseudonym) chronicled
her experiences as the world's first surrogate (in 1980) in her
book, Birth Mother. Kane was herself inseminated with the
intended father's sperm at a doctor’s office. Moved to become
a surrogate because of a keen desire to help an infertile couple,
Kane was wholly unprepared for the grief she’d experience
surrendering this child. A mother of three, who had given up a baby
for adoption previous to her marriage, Kane did not believe that
she’d view this baby as hers. And she did not begin to fathom
the havoc her experience would wreak upon her husband’s career,
her family's social status, and the emotional stability of her children.
Years later upon meeting
Mary Beth Whitehead— the surrogate mother whom unsuccessfully
sued for custody of “Baby M”—Kane became an outspoken
opponent of surrogate motherhood. Kane writes, “Just because
we can do something doesn’t mean that we should... This is
reproductive prostitution... can we really continue to allow women
to rent spaces in their bodies and sell their children for profit?”
The lasting fallout of
Kane’s surrogate experience is poignant, because her family
paid a high premium for her generous impulse. When one sits back
and considers what Kane did— had a baby for a stranger—
and what the climate was like— gawking and hostile—
the distress surrounding her family is wholly understandable. Her
grief, too, seems inevitable for a host of reasons, including unresolved
feelings about having surrendered a child for adoption. Even though
this was uncharted territory, a blatant lack of compassion or thoughtfulness
was accorded to Kane and her family. A couple’s desire to
have the man’s biological offspring, their doctor’s
ambition to create a money-and-prestige-garnering operation, and
the media’s readiness to maximize the sensational aspects
of the story all trampled concern for Kane.
In the mid-eighties,
when Mary Beth Whitehead decided to keep the baby she gave birth
to, thereby reneging on the contract she and the intended parents—
the Sterns— had signed, the Baby M drama played out in the
courts and in the media. After the Sterns sued for, and received,
temporary custody, Whitehead fled out of state with the baby. Eventually,
she returned to New Jersey in order to file her own custody suit,
which she lost.
Feminists examined and
debated the case widely. For many, Whitehead’s story illuminated
the close link between class and power. Kelly Oliver, in her article
“Marxism and Surrogacy” paid particular attention to
the court’s punitive response toward Mary Beth Whitehead because
she had less financial security (no money for music lessons or private
school education) than the Sterns. Sara Ann Ketchum pointed out
in her article “Selling Babies and Selling Bodies” that
adoptions were not binding until after a baby was born and a period
of time passed to ensure the birth mother certain of her earlier
decision to cede custody. No such protection to a surrogate/birth
mother’s tie was granted. Even before biological ties between
birthing woman and baby were severed, surrogates’ rights were
ignored.
Gestational surrogates
are the first to intentionally assist beyond conception with creation
of babies never— even potentially— for themselves. Does
this constitute reproductive prostitution? Some feminists believe
that a surrogate acts with free agency— she can use her body
as she chooses to— while others think that to conceive a pregnancy
for others willing to pay (an estimated minimum fee of sixty-five
thousand dollars) for the service inevitably involves coercion.
While the lump sum of money received seems large given that the
surrogate isn’t officially working, the hourly wage, especially
if the surrogate undergoes numerous IVF cycles before even becoming
pregnant, might not seem quite so impressive.
The Whitehead case pushed
the burgeoning industry surrounding surrogate arrangements—
agencies and lawyers and doctors-to codify as many aspects of the
process as possible. A profile of those women most apt to choose
to be surrogates and perform the task well emerged: religious, fairly
traditional married women (“stay-at-home moms”) with
moderate incomes who had enjoyed successful pregnancies and believed
they were done bearing their own children. These women were less
enticed by money than a calling to help others. Using a third party’s
donor eggs— the intended mother’s or another’s—
became routine. Along with more rigorous psychological testing of
surrogates, strict contracts were drafted, detailing health behaviors
and the maximum number of fetuses that would be carried. The language
favored those procuring babies: gestational surrogates were not
birth mothers as Kane called herself, nor even surrogate mothers;
instead the current term entirely skirts the word “mother.”
Legislation passed in some key states like California, where a large
percentage of surrogate arrangements occur, that bypasses the birthing
woman’s name ever appearing on the birth certificate, legally
erasing her role. In states where the birthing mother’s name
appears on the original birth certificate, the intended parents
can go to court and receive a second birth certificate with their
names rather than hers.
The image of perfected
motherhood— the sort spread out along glossy magazine pages
depicting every celebrity mom on the planet— encourages entitlement
for privileged women to share biological ties to their babies. Adoption,
perhaps always cast as a second place option to “natural”
parenthood, has fallen even lower because technologies promise “positive”
results. If part of perfectionism is the ability to control a situation
so it goes according to plan, the surrogate arrangement appeals,
given that few details are left to chance.
In their book The
Mommy Myth Susan Douglas and Meredith Michaels point out that
when fifty-two year old television personality Joan Lunden obtained
a surrogate so she and her younger husband could have twins the
only thing larger than her disposable income was her “sense
of entitlement.” Of Lunden's babies they write, “If
you can't have them yourself, you can buy them.”
Celebrities, perhaps
fearful of tabloid innuendo, have come forward with their stories.
In addition to Lunden, soap opera star Deirdre Hall and model Cheryl
Tiegs made public— on People magazine covers—
their surrogate arrangements. According to Meredith Michaels, the
media attempts to assimilate the surrogate arrangement by employing
“the narrative of the miracle” and by “playing
up a fantasy about a sisterhood between the surrogate and this powerful,
privileged celebrity. There is an implication that surrogate and
privileged mom are going to have such a strong bond that they raise
the child or children together, which of course, could not be further
from the truth.”
To gear up for her second
round of family (she has three grown daughters) Lunden launched
a media blitz. In deference to sisterhood, she posed on the cover
of People with arms encircling her very pregnant salt-of-the-earth
surrogate. Lunden’s much younger husband had never had children
before. Sharing her story to “help others,” for all
of her openness, Lunden refused-and continues to refuse— during
an interview in Ladies Home Journal that featured her and
her year-old twins— to reveal whether her own eggs or those
of a donor were used. “I do that for all the other people
who are calling and writing me now, wanting to do this. I don’t
want them to feel they can’t achieve what we have if they
can’t produce their own eggs. I want everybody to understand
that however they make their families doesn’t make any difference.
It’s about parenting. It’s about having these children.
If they can use their own egg and sperm, fantastic. And if one of
them isn’t viable, then get a donor. I don’t want anyone
to feel their way isn’t right.” Given Lunden’s
smugness, it’s abundantly clear that if she’d used her
own eggs, she would share this as further proof of her unique youthfulness
compared to other women her age. Also over fifty, Tiegs was questioned
heavily by the media when she claimed that her eggs were used because
so many doctors have disputed this as likely.
Despite the fact that
Kane and Whitehead did not help celebrities, the number of people
able to afford surrogates remains small. Few people will come face
to face with this issue. Yet, images of celebrities with their surrogate-born
babies (and miraculously old eggs) confirm for all women dealing
with infertility that a means to have one's “own” baby should somehow exist.
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