Hello, friends! It's Monday.

📣 Programming note: Carlie and Chelsea are out of town for an Axios retreat.

• Today, we have a special edition looking at the changing landscape of surrogacy in America.

Today’s newsletter is 951 words — a 3.5-minute read.

More Americans are turning to surrogacy to build their families.

Why it matters: As surrogacy becomes more visible and accessible, ethical, legal and cultural tensions become harder to ignore.

How it works: A surrogate carries a pregnancy for intended parents — typically via IVF with an embryo that uses a donor or the intended mother's egg.

• That's called gestational surrogacy, and the surrogate can be referred to as the gestational carrier. (When a surrogate uses her own egg, that's called traditional or genetic surrogacy.)

It's an option for people who want biological kids but can't carry a pregnancy.

• It's "not something I would recommend for somebody who doesn't have a medical indication or a reason to do it," says Laura Meyer, reproductive endocrinologist at Illume Fertility.

State of play: Surrogacy has undergone a quiet cultural transformation.

• What once seemed like an inaccessible or poorly understood method of family-building has become something more people picture for themselves as more public figures talk about pregnancy challenges and surrogacy, Meyer says.
• The topic has also migrated into pop culture, appearing on social media and as a central plot line on Apple TV+'s "Shrinking."

The latest: Olympic gold medal figure skater Alysa Liu was born via surrogacy. And singer Meghan Trainor recently shared that medical complications from her first two pregnancies led her family to surrogacy for their third child.

• But the headlines on surrogacy aren't all celebratory: Reaction to Trainor's baby news was mixed, and a recent criminal investigation involves the surrogate births of more than 20 children.

The bottom line: The topic of surrogacy remains fraught because it involves complex health and rights implications for everyone involved — surrogates, intended parents, donors and the children born.

More stats

Surrogacy in the U.S. can cost from $100,000 to more than $250,000.

Why it matters: High costs and limited insurance coverage make surrogacy inaccessible for many people seeking to build families.

By the numbers: According to data compiled by fertility benefits company Carrot, average costs for surrogacy include:

• Surrogacy compensation through an agency: $30,000-$65,000 (doesn't include additional expenses like travel).
• Agency fees: $15,000-$45,000 (could include legal and other services).
• Legal fees: $15,000-$20,000 (includes representation for all parties).
• IVF and other medical expenses: $25,000-$50,000 (more if you do multiple cycles and transfers).

Between the lines: Coverage for surrogacy is improving, but major gaps remain.

• Employers reported a 39% increase in adoption or surrogacy benefits offered year over year, according to a 2026 Maven report.

Keep reading

Without a federal law, surrogacy in the U.S. is governed by a patchwork of state regulations.

Why it matters: Confusing, varied local rules can determine everything from whether agreements are legally binding to who is recognized as a parent at birth.

By the numbers: As of 2026, surrogacy agreements are enforceable in 31 states (with some limitations), void in one, and unregulated in 17, Surrogacy360 tells Axios.

Major differences between state laws include:

• How a surrogate must be compensated (if not considered "altruistic").
• Who becomes the legal parents of a child born via surrogate.
• And whether genetic surrogacy (when the surrogate uses her own egg) is even allowed.

What they're saying: A growing number of lawyers "have begun to specialize in advising either intended parents or being the separate counsel for a surrogate," says Ming Wong, an attorney and the director of community justice and access at the National Center for LGBTQ Rights.

• Because contracts involve so many potential risks, like one party changing their mind midway through the process, "we always encourage people to at least talk to an attorney … even in a state where it's not criminalized," Wong says.
• In states without enforceable surrogacy rules, Wong says, there's a risk that agreements could look like a criminal act, similar to "baby-selling."

Keep reading

MaRiahh Hodgkinson knows she has "unique" origins: She grew up with a mom and dad — and an "auntie" who gave birth to her in 1999.

The big picture: That has "always been a part of my family and story," she says. She doesn't even remember a time she was sat down and told about her parentage.

Between the lines: The surrogate is not only Hodgkinson's biological mother but also her aunt — the wife of a half-brother her adoptive father only discovered as an adult.

• When she learned Hodgkinson's parents had struggled with fertility for years, she offered to help. Their first IUI cycle worked.

Zoom in: Hodgkinson has an old handwritten letter from her auntie to her mom, with an ultrasound picture of "your baby." And she still has a relationship with the woman who carried her.

• Right after Hodgkinson was born, both her parents were in the delivery room, and she went straight to her mother's chest.

"I was just the oven," her auntie would tell her. "You were always your mom's bun."

• Years later, that philosophy is also guiding Hodgkinson's surrogacy journey, this time as the oven.

Her turn: After birthing her own kids, Hodgkinson wants to be a surrogate for somebody else.

• "I got whatever crazy gene that is of loving being pregnant," she says.
• Hodgkinson already matched with intended parents and is in early talks about carrying their baby.

Keep reading

☕️ Chelsea hopes to perk up after a very early flight.

🎉 Carlie had fun exploring the Atlanta Botanical Garden yesterday. Today's plans: Party with Axios reporters from across the country.

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Thanks to our editor Jen Burkett.