The humor left her face almost immediately.
“No diagnoses. And no history of medication either,” she clarified more cautiously that time.
I held her gaze for another second before moving on. “Why do you want to do this?”
A noticeable shift took place in Talia's expression.
The playful energy she’d carried through most of the interview softened, replaced by something quieter… more honest.
“Because I’m tired of struggling... tired of pretending that everything is fine even when it gets hard sometimes. And yes, the money matters. I’m not going to sit here and pretend it doesn’t. But I also think… maybe helping someone else build a family could ultimately mean something more profound too.”
I nodded. “How do you handle emotional attachment? Some surrogates struggle to separate themselves emotionally from the pregnancy,” I asked, trying to tread lightly on the subject.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it. I’ll understand the baby wouldn’t be mine.”
I leaned back slightly, deciding to push a little further, needing clarity. “After the birth, there would becompleteseparation. No visits, no photos, no updates, and no continued contact with the child whatsoever. Would that be a problem for you?”
Talia’s smile faded just a touch. “No. I’d respect it,” she replied carefully, though something beneath her tone suggested the reality of that would hit harder than she wanted it to.
“Even if it hurt?” I pressed, fully aware of how important that answer was.
Talia paused for a moment, visibly collecting her thoughts before responding.
“I’d deal with it privately,” she admitted finally, her voice quieter but honest. “Not everything painful needs to become somebody else’s burden.”
That answer lingered with me for a second longer than I expected.
I clicked my pen once against the folder before moving on.
“Last question. Why should we choose you? What makes you stand out from the other applicants?”
Talia sat quietly for a second before giving a small shrug.
“Well… I don’t know the other women, so I can’t sit here and pretend I’m better than them. For all I know, one of them could be richer, smarter, prettier, or come with less baggage. But I will say desperate people usually do one of two things when life gets hard: they either break or they adapt. I’ve always adapted. I know how to survive uncomfortable situations without making them harder than they need to be, I know how to keep my word, and when I commit to something, I don’t halfway do it just because life gets inconvenient. A lot of people want opportunities, but very few people know how to handle them once they finally arrive. I do.”
Her fingers folded together loosely in her lap.
“And no, I’m not perfect. I get overwhelmed sometimes. I overthink. I’ve made mistakes like everybody else. But if somebody trusted me with something this important, I’d give it everything I had.”
Her voice softened slightly after that.
“I may not be the perfect candidate on paper, but I’d try my hardest to be the best surrogate possible. Not because it’s a job, but because somebody’s future would literally be depending on me to do it right.”
Well damn.
I nodded slowly in satisfaction at her answer, then closed the folder that contained our discussion notes.
“Well,” I said, folding my hands together, “those are all the intake questions I have for now.”
Talia exhaled softly, almost relieved.
“But before you go,” I added to maintain the momentum of our conversation, “it’s important you understand that if youare selected, the process becomes far more structured from this point forward. Let me explain what that entails.”
Talia nodded, her eyes wide and attentive, eager for the details.
“You’d be required to stay under medical supervision for the entire pregnancy,” I outlined, deliberately choosing my words. “We’d cover everything from housing, to food, to health insurance… practically everything. The child will be placed in our custody immediately after birth. You will receive postnatal care for six weeks, you’ll be well compensated for your role, and then… well, life goes on.”
I narrowed my eyes in a way to emphasize the seriousness of what I had just laid out to her.
