I Became a Surrogate for My Sister And Her Husband, When They Saw the Baby, They Yelled, This Isnt the Baby We Expected

“They’re growing up so fast,” she whispered. “I always thought our kids would grow up together.” Her voice cracked. “Six rounds of IVF, Abby. The doctor says I can’t try again.”

Before I could speak, her husband Jason stepped in. Calm, composed, calculating. “We’ve spoken to specialists,” he said. “They recommended surrogacy. A biological sister would be ideal.”

Rachel turned to me, trembling. “Would you… carry our baby?” Her voice was barely audible.

That night, my husband Luke and I talked for hours. “You’ve already had four pregnancies,” he said gently. “This isn’t a small ask.”

“I know,” I said. “But if I can give Rachel what she’s been aching for, how can I not try?”

When we said yes, Rachel collapsed into tears. “You’re saving me,” she whispered. “You’re giving us everything.”

The pregnancy revived her. She came to every appointment, painted the nursery, talked to my belly for hours. My boys called it “Aunt Rachel’s baby.” Our house was full of laughter again.

Then labor came—fast and fierce. I gripped the hospital bed, Luke calling Rachel again and again. No answer.

“She’ll be here,” I gasped. “She has to be.”

Hours later, through the haze of pain, I heard the sweetest sound—a baby’s cry.

“Congratulations,” the doctor smiled. “You have a healthy baby girl.”

I looked down at her tiny face—soft curls, clenched fists, perfect and alive. “Your mommy’s going to be so happy,” I whispered.

Two hours later, Rachel and Jason arrived. I felt relief—until I saw their faces.

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