Love became conditional the day my sister looked at the baby I carried for her and said she didn’t want her. Rachel had suffered three miscarriages after years of trying. By the time doctors suggested surrogacy, something in her had gone quiet. When her husband Jason asked if I would carry their child, my husband and I agreed—for love, for family. The pregnancy brought Rachel back to life. She came to every appointment, painted a nursery, talked to my belly. My four boys argued over who would be the best cousin. For months, everything felt hopeful.
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