ghosts of surrogacy

The verdict is unanimous. Motherhood is the most valuable, cherished and celebrated role a woman can ever adore. But, are we only talking about emotions or emotions that perk their way out amidst growing impotency and manufactured behaviour?

Difficult questions but of late, the insurgency amongst the growing existence of surrogate mothers brings us to a more intricate and uncomfortable question – is it all about the result alone or the more viable human intelligence that’s embroiled in a tornado of emotions – the body, the pain, the bonding, the togetherness, the feeling of being massively responsible for a beautiful off spring.

Renting a womb is serious business – well, scary business. Yes, I hate to say that but we must live in gross reality and that I am deemed to dwell upon. If you are trying to pounce and retaliate, then you have a big world outside your window and its time we creep out to understand how disasters have changed in to a blessing. Last week, I did read about a very disturbed article on how surrogate mothers are a popular trend today – yes, disturbing for me as however contemporary I may be, I still belong to the old school especially if we are talking about childbirth.

I totally appreciate the advancements done in the field of technology – not in medicines alone. But the ability of creating test tube babies is giving is the moral incentive to go beyond the standard nomenclatures and lure people in to pseudo reproduction techniques. I admit, that such techniques can be a boon but finding genuinely pure cases is an impossible task. No, I don’t find it detrimental since it gives us a way to have children without the culmination of 2 individuals of opposite sex. I am happy with the advent of our science but this has led to an improbable state of migrant relationships with awful meanings.

Add to the dilemma, the target audience are the less financially capable families but immensely fertile to endure the organic remains of a complete stranger. In short, the womb is mine, the pain is mine, the care is mine but the associated semen belongs to an unknown, preferably called the ‘customer’. For few lakhs (sometimes even less), our women get in to this ordeal as ‘baby producing machines’. Little is thought about the aftermath or as matter of fact, how reliable is this source of sustenance that’s getting them in to this world of reproduction is a question that will seldom have answers.

For a moment, say, I channelize my thoughts and become this insanely progressive person who believes in the phenomenon of surrogacy. The organisations affiliated with such cause must be certified and recognised (either by the government or privately), governance needs to be established and transparent. ‘Come and fly’ approach is demeaning the concept of surrogacy, more significantly when our mindset and ground circumstances don’t sit in the same place.

Way forward or not, we must brace ourselves with the integrity first, let the other conglomerate factors follow later.

Published by lifeoholic

Flamboyance meets me, and I could be contagiously luring. It kind of comes off in my writing, as my stories of passion and indulgence unfold.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: