Others left because they wanted to.
By the time I turned eighteen and aged out of foster care, I had learned not to expect anyone to stay.
I worked double shifts at a grocery store in a small town outside Chicago. I stocked shelves during the day and cleaned floors at night. Every dollar I earned went toward rent, food, and a small savings account I hoped would one day help me attend college.
Life wasn’t easy, but I kept moving forward.
Then one afternoon, everything changed.
A fertility agency contacted me about becoming a surrogate.
The intended parents were wealthy business owners named Richard and Vanessa Morgan. They had struggled with infertility for years and desperately wanted a child.
The compensation was more money than I had ever seen.
Enough to pay for college.
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