My parents abruptly contacted me after 13 years of little communication, stating that they needed to talk about something significant. My husband, Greg, was concerned, but neither of us could have foreseen what would happen.
My older sister, Emily, has always been the family’s golden child. As a child, it was obvious that she was everything my parents could have ever hoped for: intelligent, athletic, attractive, and seemingly flawless. I, on the other hand, was an unexpected surprise, born prematurely with a severe cardiac issue that required numerous operations and ongoing care. Even though my grandparents paid for most of the medical bills, my parents never let me forget how much of a financial burden I was. “We could have taken that vacation if we didn’t have all these medical bills,” they’d say, or “Emily’s college fund would be bigger if we didn’t have to deal with your hospital stays.”
Their treatment of us was a sharp and terrible contrast. My accomplishments were hardly recognized, but Emily’s little victories were honored with parties and gifts. Emily was well aware of her status and made the most of it, frequently bullying me knowing our parents would never support me. When I was 12, she shoved me down the stairs after I unintentionally touched her science project. For weeks, I had a huge bruise on my back. My mother’s reaction? “You should be more careful around Emily’s things.” That was it.
My only way out was school, but even that was difficult. I struggled to keep up due to my health problems, while Emily was achieving straight A’s and dominating in sports. The comparisons persisted: “Why aren’t you more like Emily?”
Going to college was the true turning point. My grandparents, the only ones who ever truly stood by me, helped me with tuition so I could move several states away. There, I met Greg. He was patient, compassionate, and truly interested in me as a person. For the first time in my life, I felt appreciated and acknowledged for who I was. We were married after graduation, and I believed I could finally have the family life I had always desired. My parents and Emily hardly noticed my wedding. They didn’t come or even send a card. Greg’s family embraced me, and his mother even helped me choose my wedding gown, something I had always dreamed of doing with my own mother.
A few years into our marriage, we decided to try for a child. Because of my cardiac condition, my doctors told me that getting pregnant would be quite dangerous, but we still wanted to try. The pregnancy was incredibly challenging, with many hospital stays and a near-death experience during delivery. I barely survived, but our son was born healthy. The physicians were very clear: another pregnancy could kill me. It was just too much for my heart to bear again.
With our small family, Greg and I were happy, away from my toxic family. My only communication with them was through sporadic phone calls and holiday cards. The separation was restorative. Then came last week.
My parents contacted me, stating they had an important conversation to have. I agreed to see them at their home, and Greg accompanied me for support. They handed me an envelope. Inside was not just a letter, but a surrogacy agreement. Emily has been having infertility issues, and they wanted me to be her surrogate. They had already conferred with physicians and attorneys, prepared all the necessary documentation, and were presenting it to me as though it were final, as though I had no say in the matter.
I was taken aback. They knew about my cardiac condition. They knew that I had almost passed away giving birth to my own son. They knew that another pregnancy could kill me. But they didn’t care. They just cared about providing Emily with what she desired.
As I tried to explain that I was physically incapable of doing it, my mother started crying. “How can you be so selfish?” she cried. “Emily has always wanted to be a mother. This is her only chance.”
My father added that after everything the family had done for me, I owed them something. What had they done for me? What specifically had they done to make me feel unworthy for the rest of my life? My grandparents paid the medical costs. Greg and his family provided me with the emotional support I required. My parents’ only constant behavior was to tell me that I would never be good enough to be Emily.
With my mother’s charge of selfishness still echoing in my ears, I sobbed as I left their home. Greg was incensed, not only at their request but also at the way they totally disregarded the possibility that I might die. As usual, they wanted me to sacrifice my life and maybe leave my son motherless to give Emily what she wants.
Since that day, I have not returned any of their calls or messages. Emily has begun contacting me as well, with false statements like, “Family helps family,” and “I would do this for you if the situation were reversed.” She wouldn’t even offer to drive me to school if it were a little bit out of her way.
Am I being self-centered? I’ve been told throughout my life that I’m bad for prioritizing my own needs. But this is now about my son, my husband, and my life, not just about me.
A week has passed, and things have gotten far worse. The calls and messages haven’t stopped. Emily has been sending manipulative texts nonstop: “This is my final opportunity to have my own child. Remember how I always looked out for you when we were kids?” She even dared to ask that one. She must remember our early years quite differently than I do.
Yesterday, she sent a particularly nasty email: “Mom was right about you. You always thought about yourself. I suppose that almost dying while pregnant is merely a pretext for not assisting me.”
My parents are even worse. “She is ruining Emily’s sole chance at happiness,” my mom has been telling any relative who will listen. She is portraying me as this cold-blooded monster. This morning, my dad sent me a message that truly went too far: “You’ve always been a letdown, but this is a new low. This is your way of repaying us for giving you life, by denying your sister the experience of being a mother.”
Greg is enraged. I dissuaded him from confronting them. Instead, we engaged in a lengthy discussion about our future. “This isn’t just about you anymore,” he reminded me. “It has to do with our son. He might lose his mother as a result of what they’re requesting. Nobody has the authority to force you to take that risk.”
Of course, he is correct. We have decided to act decisively. First, we’re blocking all of their numbers. Second, we’re investigating legal safeguards. Next week, we’re meeting with a lawyer. I will no longer allow them to control me.
Two weeks later, my mother managed to get in touch with me using a temporary number. “Just the two of us, not Greg. Need to talk,” she said.
I consented to meet at a nearby café. She began talking about Emily’s melancholy and how she’s “dying of the anguish of not being able to have children.” My mother pushed a business card across the table. “The doctors say this is her last chance. According to one fertility expert, you two are a fantastic fit. They are able to keep a careful eye on your cardiac health.”
When I brought up the fact that my own doctors have expressly prohibited me from getting pregnant again, she dismissed it. “Doctors are constantly too cautious. According to Emily’s specialist, the risks are controllable.”
The discussion took an even more sinister turn when Mom began discussing family legacy and how Emily should be given more genetic inheritance than I did. “After all,” she said, “I’ve heard the same arguments about you being a flawed child my entire life.”
As I got up to go, she said, “I should have known you’d be difficult about this. Emily has always made you envious. This is your opportunity to at last take action for the family.”
I felt oddly at ease as I walked out. I finally saw my mother clearly, not as a parent who didn’t love me enough, but as someone who never considered me a person, only a tool to be used for Emily’s gain. I’ve given my mother one last message: “I won’t put myself in danger or leave my child an orphan because of Emily’s wishes. We will not be talking about it again. Don’t get in touch with me again.”
A week later, my father began sending increasingly threatening messages. Then, my grandmother called, her voice tremulous. “I heard your parents conversing with an attorney. They’re looking for legal means to compel you to do this.”
They have persuaded themselves that they may be able to contest my own doctor’s opinion because Emily’s fertility specialist claims the risks are “tolerable.” My grandmother also disclosed that Emily’s husband is genuinely opposed to their plan, but Emily and my parents have essentially cut him off from the conversation.
I called my doctor’s office and asked them to implement additional security measures to lock down my medical records. I then got in touch with a family law firm. The lawyer became enraged when she heard the whole scenario. “They cannot legally compel you to serve as a surrogate,” she said. “It would be considered reproductive coercion and would not be tolerated by any court.” She is assisting us with creating cease and desist letters and preparing the necessary papers for a restraining order.
My whole extended family is now involved. My aunt from Texas called, sobbing about Emily’s unsuccessful IVF efforts. My cousins claim my parents are telling everyone that my heart ailment has significantly improved and I’m just using it as an excuse. The cryptic Facebook postings from my mother’s sisters have begun.
The one bright spot is my cousin Sarah. She personally contacted me to express her anger. “I recall how they treated you as a child,” she wrote. “They’re being crazy. Don’t let them guilt you into this.”
Emily’s husband also spoke with Greg in secret. He fears that Emily and my parents will end up in legal hot water. He has attempted to reason with them, but they are so focused on achieving their goals.
I wrote a mass email to my entire extended family last night that had only the medical facts about my heart problem, along with a statement from my cardiologist. I concluded it by saying that my lawyer would handle any further harassment. Then, I blocked every member of my family except for my grandparents and cousin Sarah.
A month ago, I sent out that bulk email. My new phone number and secret social media profile have brought me a peace I’ve never experienced before. Through my grandma, I heard what is likely to be my mother’s final message to me: “You’ve let this family down for the last time. You put your self-interest ahead of Emily’s happiness. You shouldn’t anticipate being welcomed back.” Oddly, I felt a tremendous sense of comfort. What I’ve understood all along—that my sole worth was what I could do for Emily—was now expressed aloud.
Then, two surprising events occurred. First, my lawyer received a legal letter from Emily’s fertility clinic. It turns out my parents tried to conceal my heart ailment by falsifying my medical records. The clinic is already filing a report regarding this unlawful effort at medical fraud.
The second was that Emily’s husband had had enough. In the family group chat, he revealed how my parents and Emily had conspired to conceal my illness from the doctors. He disclosed that Emily was aware of my near-death experience while I was pregnant but had purposefully kept it a secret.
The response from the extended family was prompt. Suddenly, the aunts and cousins who had been disparaging me stopped talking. My Texas aunt apologized. Since then, a number of family members have stopped communicating with my parents and Emily, describing their behavior as “completely illegal.”
Last week, Emily’s husband filed for divorce. My parents’ flawless story about their precious child was ultimately shattered. Emily and my parents have been banned from all medical facilities associated with the reproductive clinic. They might be subject to severe legal repercussions for their effort at medical fraud.
Seeing their flawless facade fall apart after their own deeds were exposed feels like poetic justice, even though I never sought retribution. All I wanted was to be left alone. You are truly set free by the truth.