Family Portrait
A Collaboration with Sally Williams
A Collaboration with Sally Williams
I didn't set out to write a big magazine feature on the relationship between British couple and their Ukrainian surrogate. When I started working on this project in March 2022, I had no idea what it would become.
Five years ago, I wrote an article about the Ukrainian surrogacy industry. I wen to Kyiv and interviewed surrogate mothers and saw agencies and clinics that were responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of babies every year. What als struck me was the deep paradox of surrogacy. Having a baby is one of the most intimate of human experiences and yet, quite often, the couple never met the woman who was carrying their child.
And then, three years later, in February 2022, came the terrifying news of war Couples, and their surrogates were suddenly caught up in a fast-moving catastrophe. I wondered how the surrogates would be able to access medica care and give birth safely in a warzone? What would happen if couples couldn't get across the border to collect their babies? Who would look after them? At the start of the war, around 42 British babies were being carried by Ukrainian surrogates. I hoped at least one couple might want to talk to me.
An agency in Kyiv put me in touch with Dorothy and Charlie, a couple from Suffolk, whose surrogate, Antastasia, from Zaporizhzhia, was around 10 weeks pregnant. Eventually Dorothy agreed to meet. She told me that Anastasia and
her seven-year old son, Alexander, were going to move into their home in Suffolk. By that time, they'd fled Ukraine and were staying in Poland. She would drive to collect them, she explained. They could stay as long as they liked. It was up to them.
This upended all the the protocols of surrogacy. Couples weren't even suppose to contact their pregnant surrogate on social media, and vice versa, as far as agencies were concerned. Here, they would be living together. It was a massiv change, especially for Anastasia who had lost so much: her flat; job; country.
Even the baby in her belly wasn't hers. And there was still nearly six months to go before the birth.
I wanted to see how things worked out; to hear the story unfold in Anastasia an Dorothy's own words. Elena Heatherwick, the photographer, agreed to team up with me. We've been working together since a magazine editor first introduce us in 2017. She has an intuitive feel for light and what makes a compelling image - and a writer's eye for telling detail.
We arranged to all meet up in Suffolk. By now Anastasia was 27 weeks pregnant We discussed our proposal: to document what happened in the lead up to the birth, and beyond. We would publish the story only when - and if - they were ready. At the very least they would have a family album like no other. Elena spent a lot of that day talking to Anastasia's son.
Over the next 15 months or so, we visited the women and spoke on the phone. It was a wonderfully consuming project because of the characters, the uniqueness of events. The story kept moving, unfolding. As Anastasia's English improved she was able to describe significant events in her past which provided a fascinating window into her life and the choices she'd made.
Then, at the end of last summer, we all agreed it was time to tell the story.
There are so much that we weren't able to publish - because of space, and because Anastasia, in particular, wanted a measure of anonymity. She didn't want to use real names or have her son's face prominently displayed. The reason will become clear when you read the piece.
But still, I hope the story illuminates something about the war in Ukraine, and life in exile; about motherhood and the bonds of family - and about the extraordinary steps Dorothy and Charlie took to keep Anastasia and the baby safe.
Five years ago, I wrote an article about the Ukrainian surrogacy industry. I wen to Kyiv and interviewed surrogate mothers and saw agencies and clinics that were responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of babies every year. What als struck me was the deep paradox of surrogacy. Having a baby is one of the most intimate of human experiences and yet, quite often, the couple never met the woman who was carrying their child.
And then, three years later, in February 2022, came the terrifying news of war Couples, and their surrogates were suddenly caught up in a fast-moving catastrophe. I wondered how the surrogates would be able to access medica care and give birth safely in a warzone? What would happen if couples couldn't get across the border to collect their babies? Who would look after them? At the start of the war, around 42 British babies were being carried by Ukrainian surrogates. I hoped at least one couple might want to talk to me.
An agency in Kyiv put me in touch with Dorothy and Charlie, a couple from Suffolk, whose surrogate, Antastasia, from Zaporizhzhia, was around 10 weeks pregnant. Eventually Dorothy agreed to meet. She told me that Anastasia and
her seven-year old son, Alexander, were going to move into their home in Suffolk. By that time, they'd fled Ukraine and were staying in Poland. She would drive to collect them, she explained. They could stay as long as they liked. It was up to them.
This upended all the the protocols of surrogacy. Couples weren't even suppose to contact their pregnant surrogate on social media, and vice versa, as far as agencies were concerned. Here, they would be living together. It was a massiv change, especially for Anastasia who had lost so much: her flat; job; country.
Even the baby in her belly wasn't hers. And there was still nearly six months to go before the birth.
I wanted to see how things worked out; to hear the story unfold in Anastasia an Dorothy's own words. Elena Heatherwick, the photographer, agreed to team up with me. We've been working together since a magazine editor first introduce us in 2017. She has an intuitive feel for light and what makes a compelling image - and a writer's eye for telling detail.
We arranged to all meet up in Suffolk. By now Anastasia was 27 weeks pregnant We discussed our proposal: to document what happened in the lead up to the birth, and beyond. We would publish the story only when - and if - they were ready. At the very least they would have a family album like no other. Elena spent a lot of that day talking to Anastasia's son.
Over the next 15 months or so, we visited the women and spoke on the phone. It was a wonderfully consuming project because of the characters, the uniqueness of events. The story kept moving, unfolding. As Anastasia's English improved she was able to describe significant events in her past which provided a fascinating window into her life and the choices she'd made.
Then, at the end of last summer, we all agreed it was time to tell the story.
There are so much that we weren't able to publish - because of space, and because Anastasia, in particular, wanted a measure of anonymity. She didn't want to use real names or have her son's face prominently displayed. The reason will become clear when you read the piece.
But still, I hope the story illuminates something about the war in Ukraine, and life in exile; about motherhood and the bonds of family - and about the extraordinary steps Dorothy and Charlie took to keep Anastasia and the baby safe.
Words
Sally Williams
Full Story
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