Gloria* hadn’t wanted another child. She had agreed to become pregnant for a third time, only to earn money to support her two children, aged 10 and eight. The plan was simple: she would be artificially inseminated with the sperm of the intended father, carry the baby for nine months, and then pass the infant over to the father in exchange for P320,000 or $5,460.
She would be a surrogate.
“It occurred to me that this is one way I can make a living and support myself,” Gloria, a 32-year-old massage therapist, said from her home in Pangasinan, 200 kilometers (124 miles) north of the Philippine capital Manila.
She first learned about surrogacy from one of her regular clients. He had asked if she was willing to be a surrogate for him, but Gloria did not know what it meant. She did some research online and was fascinated by the idea of being pregnant for someone else as a way to earn money.
Gloria joined a Facebook group where women advertised themselves as willing surrogate mothers. She was immediately flooded with inquiries, but the first to reach out was a recruiter, who was seeking potential carriers for a surrogacy clinic.
The handler told her to come to Pampanga, about a three-hour bus ride away. Their first meeting was a three-hour interview that canvassed her age, job, previous pregnancies, and background. She was asked to return a week later.
“When I returned to them, they informed me that they will put [sperm] in me. I was taken to a room, received an IV, and started to drift off to sleep. I didn’t know what happened when I woke up. They just said it was all done,” she said.
The sperm, she was told, was from a gay man, who wanted to have a child with his partner. They met once but she didn’t know his name, age, or much else — all communication was through the recruiter.
Gloria became pregnant after the first insemination. She was excited about her potential earnings, which she planned to use to purchase a home. She was told she would earn P20,000 ($340) each month of her pregnancy, with a hefty P140,000 ($2,400) bonus once she delivered the baby. That was more than double what she could earn in the same amount of time giving massages.
And she didn’t have to spend any money for the duration of her pregnancy. Upon news of her positive results, her handler took her to a house, where she stayed with other pregnant surrogates — “about 15 of us,” she said — and where their food and needs were paid for.
But her happiness was short-lived.
“After one week of falling pregnant, [I told the recruiter] ‘Can I get the first P20,000?’ Then she said, she hadn’t received any messages from the intended parent but they already knew that I was pregnant,” Gloria said. “Then after one week, there was still no communication.”
They never heard from him again.
“I was very disappointed then. I didn’t know whether I would have the child aborted or if I should keep it,” she said.
Unsure what to do, Gloria only knew one thing: that she needed money. So with only P10,000 ($170) in hand, which she begged as compensation from the recruiter — her only earnings from the procedure — she left the surrogate house and went back to being a massage therapist, keeping her pregnancy a secret.
Secretive industry
Gloria, who agreed to share her story on condition of anonymity, is part of a growing surrogacy industry in the Philippines.
The Philippines has no law that governs the practice. In some countries like Australia, Canada and Brazil, surrogacy is permitted but only for altruistic purposes, so that surrogates cannot earn from being a carrier. Other places like Ukraine and some states in the United States allow commercial or for-profit surrogacy for heterosexual and same sex couples, offering some level of protection for surrogates.
But it’s stigmatized in this predominantly Christian country, where 80% of the population is Catholic.
“Surrogacy per se isn’t illegal because there’s no law saying it can’t be done,” said professor and human rights lawyer Elizabeth Aguiling-Pangalanan, who researches issues surrounding surrogacy. “It’s not regulated in the Philippines at all.”
Gloria’s arrangement is known as traditional surrogacy, wherein the surrogate’s egg is fertilized by the intended father’s sperm. The intention is for the intended father to keep the baby, even if the surrogate is genetically related to the child.
The more common arrangement is known as gestational surrogacy, in which a fertilized embryo is transferred to the womb of the surrogate, who carries and births the baby for a couple. In this case, the woman is not genetically related to the fetus and is only offering her uterus to help grow and deliver the baby.
This reporter reviewed industry documents and spoke to numerous people involved in the surrogacy industry in the Philippines over the course of 18 months since April 2023. These included surrogates, intended parents, recruiters, and a clinic owner.
The investigation revealed that the industry has grown in recent years — starting around 2018 — with clinics and agencies cropping up across the country to serve a burgeoning demand from Filipinos and foreigners. Many Filipino women in need of money view surrogacy as an attractive source of income in a country where the minimum wage is around P550 ($10) a day. But without regulations, surrogates and intended parents have little protection, and clinics and agencies are engaging in illegal activity to simplify the process.
The growth of surrogacy in the Philippines coincides with crackdowns on the practice in other Southeast Asian nations like Cambodia, amid concerns of human trafficking, child welfare and babies being sold for profit.
Locally, some clinics that offer IVF and other fertility services, secretly have surrogacy packages and work with recruiters or agencies — also known as middlemen or handlers — who get a commission fee for recruiting surrogates.
Still others advertise surrogacy openly, taking advantage of the absence of a law explicitly criminalizing it.
The industry’s expansion is further fueled by Filipinos being among the most active social media users in the world. Facebook has become a prime platform for intended parents and recruiters to find potential surrogates and vice versa. A deep dive into the platform revealed hundreds of thousands of posts on Facebook across various groups where users search for women to carry their children, and willing Filipino women express their interest.
Renting wombs on social media
However, some handlers avoid using social media for their work. Thirty-year-old Ana* who is based in Manila, has been working in the surrogacy industry since 2012, when she first became an independent surrogate at just 18 years old. She has since gotten into recruiting other surrogates for potential clients, but has no links to a clinic or agency. She said she avoids Facebook because of how untrustworthy it can be.
She instead opts for surrogacy apps and websites where interested clients need to pay to join, because this, she said, signals more serious intention than those on social media.
“There are a lot of scam issues on Facebook,” she said. “It’s hard for intended parents to look for genuine people.”
Ana also asked for anonymity as she is still active in the industry. She has two children of her own, in addition to undergoing three surrogacy journeys — one traditional, one gestational, and one that failed. She said she received so many inquiries online when she first started, up to 20 to 30 a month, that it led her to start recruiting other women to be surrogates.
“Usually I choose those who are psychologically stable. Someone who has common sense and knows what she is doing and is not being pushed to do it,” she said. “Those that I recruit are friends of friends, people they know. But I never search online for strangers to be surrogate mothers.”
Aside from carefully screening her surrogates, Ana said she assists them throughout their journey, explaining the process of surrogacy to them and answering their questions. Once they agree to take up the job, she helps match surrogates with hopeful parents, facilitates introductions, and is an available resource to her recruits throughout their pregnancies.
One of her recruits is Maria*, a 35-year-old housekeeper. Maria said Ana’s own experience as a surrogate helped her feel more at ease during her own surrogacy journey.
Maria successfully carried a child for a Filipino couple in 2015, and earned half a million pesos or about $10,000. She said she was housed by the couple in an apartment in Makati during her pregnancy, and was well fed and cared for. Maria requested for anonymity to protect the parents she served as a surrogate for.
“I was comfortable knowing who offered me the surrogacy,” Maria said. “I trusted her.”
It’s not just the surrogates whom Ana screens. She said she interviews couples extensively, and selects those she finds most sincere — like the American couple who tried for years to get pregnant but failed, or the single man who has always wanted children but does not have a partner. She also requires a signed contract from both sides, to ensure they are on the same page, and to protect the parties involved.
The details Ana provided are a stark contrast to Gloria’s experience. Even the earnings are different — Ana’s first-time surrogates earn P500,000 ($10,000), while experienced ones earn double that, up to a million pesos ($20,000).
So far, her process has worked. None of her surrogates have backed out nor changed their minds mid-pregnancy, and all the intended parents she worked with have supported her recruits well. Ana claimed she facilitated 10 surrogacies, with mostly foreign couples.
Surrogacy trends
Ana receives about 60,000 pesos or $1,000 for every birth she facilitates — and only when the surrogate successfully gives birth. It is a lot less lucrative than what she earns as a surrogate, but she said she does the recruiting not for the money, but to help people — both Filipino women in need of money, and parents who have long dreamt of having children.
“I’m happy for them. Because you can see how thankful they are in their faces. They can finally have a baby after years of waiting. After years of hard work,” she said. “I can see in their faces that I was able to help. I was able to help and earn as well.”
She also admitted that while she first got into surrogacy for the money, her thoughts on the practice have since changed — especially when the arrangements were done fairly.
“Earlier, I only wanted money. My perspective changed along the way as I saw [the] changes that surrogacy brings to people. Everyone is in a win-win situation,” she explained.
Ana said the industry has evolved over the years and she noticed a lot more single, middle-aged foreign men who are interested in Filipino women — because “the mix of ethnicities” results in physically attractive babies “who look like models.”
Surrogacy in the Philippines is also comparatively cheaper than in Western countries such as the US, where it can cost as much as $200,000 or more.
“Foreign men usually prefer Filipinas because we are easy to talk to, and compensation for surrogacy costs a lot less here,” she said. She also said the number of LGBTQ couples requesting surrogates is increasing.
Money-making schemes
The baby of Gloria, the surrogate abandoned by her commissioning parent, is now five months old. Her recruiter had recommended she give the baby up for adoption, but Gloria decided to keep her son after she gave birth, even if it meant further financial difficulty than before she became a surrogate.
She said she received no financial or emotional support from her handler during her pregnancy, but that they have recently been in touch — because the handler has a new offer for her.
“My handler offered me a job as a recruiter after I gave birth to my child. I was informed that I would receive 10,000 pesos ($170) for each woman I find who is willing to be a surrogate mother,” she said.
Despite her first experience, Gloria has not closed the door on surrogacy. She said she may consider doing it again, but not without a contract.
“I still want to give it a try, because I still dream of having my own house,” she said. “It’s the only thing I want for my kids. To give them their own house.”
With so much continuous demand for surrogacy, Ana, too, has decided to take on yet another surrogacy journey, her fourth, in Cebu. She said surrogacy has given her the opportunity to turn her life around for the better, and as a single mother, she has been able to provide for the needs of her two daughters. She plans to continue doing surrogacy until she turns 35, despite the absence of laws.
“It’s fulfilling. And if you see the faces of the intended parent when they see their child, you’ll say to yourself that you’ll do it again.”
But as demand grows, and women like Gloria and Ana continue to be willing surrogates, the lack of a surrogacy law has also opened up opportunities for exploitation — with clinics and agencies allegedly turning into money-making schemes.
“I think they are unfair to the industry,” Ana said. “Intended parents pay much more money, but it does not go to the surrogate who does the hard work. It seems like the middleman earns everything.” (To be concluded) – with additional reporting by Aun Qi Koh/Rappler.com
*$1 = P58.6
NEXT: Part 2 | How Philippine clinics illegally facilitate surrogacy