How misinformation throws Nigerian women into surrogacy ditch
When Temitope Afolabi realised that her husband could be imprisoned due to a N48 million debt he incurred from a bad business deal, she resolved to become a surrogate mother to earn money to save him. She had initially considered selling one of her kidneys, but unable to find a source, she settled for being […]
A photo of Temitope Afolabi, a surrogate in Nigeria
When Temitope Afolabi realised that her husband could be imprisoned due to a N48 million debt he incurred from a bad business deal, she resolved to become a surrogate mother to earn money to save him. She had initially considered selling one of her kidneys, but unable to find a source, she settled for being a surrogate.
Surrogacy is a form of assisted reproduction in which a woman (the surrogate) carries a pregnancy on behalf of a third party – the intended parent. Usually, the surrogate is paid for her service in a commercial arrangement.
The global surrogacy industry is valued at $27.9 billion. And the United Nations regards the practice as a form of violence against women and girls. Meanwhile, in Nigeria, surrogacy is becoming increasingly common. Celebrities like Nancy Umeh, Ini Edo and Chimamanda Adichie have used surrogate services. Lifestyle influencer, Ife Agoro also plans to use one, regardless of health challenges.
But what is the experience of surrogates in Africa’s most populous country and how did it become common? Temitope’s journey from pregnancy to postpartum as seen through a Facebook Messenger conversation unveiled her experience. She became a surrogate in May 2024; and was paid N2,233,000, including transportation, accommodation allowance, childbirth fee and wardrobe allowance.
But her compensation did not reflect Nigeria’s economic realities. Her N3,000 transportation allowance was insufficient to cover her logistics. She lives at Sango Ota, along Oju Ore in Ogun State and was to travel 41.9 kilometres to her health care centre in Ikorodu.
Although her transport fare was later increased to N5,000 after several complaints, the catch was that she would visit a clinic in Ikeja, Lagos State. Amidst tears, Temitope swore that she always added an extra N1,000 from her funds to cover the lapse in logistics costs while enduring the stress of commuting farther. She also barely had enough money to eat after she paid her rent and her children’s school fees.
Her teary voice, while sharing her experience, soon switched to anger when she recounted that her agent collected N450,000 for logistics from intending parents, alleging they went to the hospital via Uber.
“Nigerians are users. They just use people because of what they are going through. They did not even look at the stress of carrying pregnancies, vomiting and everything. They are just using us as slaves because they believe that if you don’t do it, another person will do it,” she said; her voice hoarse.
Although Temitope was informed of the compensation plan from the outset, she was not aware of the terms and conditions until much later. Her contract, dated August 26, 2024, was given to her to sign when she was already three months pregnant. It includes a death clause – she understood that she could die.
A BBC report highlights that Nigeria is the worst country to give birth in, with one death happening every seven minutes. Also, Temitope’s contract mandates that only the intended parent and the doctor could decide how to proceed if the pregnancy is harming her health. She was also forbidden to speak to the media.
During her journey as a surrogate, Temitope was prohibited from leaving her home. And she was eating specific food items for two weeks: noodles, oranges, pineapple, specified drinks; anything that burns was forbidden. She was also mandated to visit the agency regularly, even when she didn’t feel like, or her child was sick.
After she delivered the baby on February 24, 2025, Temitope suffered several medical conditions. She began menstruating thrice a month, had a fibroid and ovarian cyst and often suffered from light-headedness. When she complained, she was told by her agent that post-partum health care ended at six weeks.
“I feel used, stupid and depressed. At the end of the day, my husband still went to prison on December 18, 2024,” she said, expressing regret.
Like Temitope, another surrogate I spoke to reported medical challenges after childbirth. The student of the University of Benin, who wants to be kept anonymous, gave birth to twins as a surrogate. She said her healing process after birth was difficult and she spent half of the money she was paid to get better.
Dr Sunday Olarenwaju, the managing director of Mother and Child Hospital, said twin pregnancies were dangerous.
He explained that the more children a woman carries, the higher the risk of being exposed to diseases, including hypertension, haemorrhage and even death. Researchers also documented that when a woman gestates an embryo unrelated to her genes, she is more likely to develop placental issues and preeclampsia, among other ailments.
“Nigerians do not understand. They say we agreed to it. If not for financial problems, who would agree to such a thing? There is no one to fight for us,” Temitope said, explaining that she once tried to raise concerns about the experience of surrogates on the social media,” she said.
Meta’s complicity
While the surrogates who spoke with Weekend Trust are of different age groups, one thing they have in common is that they belong to the Facebook surrogate group: Egg donor and surrogate mother in Nigeria. The community, created on January 5, 2023, had over 4,800 members within two years.
Countless surrogacy adverts flood the group daily. Some adverts encourage people to contact them via DM (Facebook Messenger) and WhatsApp.
Meta is the parent company of Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp and Messenger. The multinational technology company has an estimated monthly active user base of 3.98 billion on its apps and has a community standard guiding its platforms. Its website states that it has “a responsibility to promote the best of what people can do together by keeping people safe and preventing harm.” Its Community Standards, which guide Facebook advertisements, also prohibit content that facilitates human exploitation, such as sale of children and labour exploitation.
When Meta was contacted through their dedicated email for the press and asked if they considered surrogacy a form of human exploitation; and why groups, such as Egg donors and surrogate mothers in Nigeria, which facilitate surrogacy for women like Temitope exist, the tech giant deleted the group, with the response, “Ads and groups that exploit people through the sale or illegal adoption of children violate our policies. And we remove this content when it is found – as we have done in this case.”
However, Olivia Maurel, the spokesperson for the Casablanca Declaration, an international non-governmental organisation working on a universal ban on surrogacy, advised that beyond deleting such groups, Facebook should implement a policy that monitors and bans all forms of surrogacy advertisements in vulnerable regions like Nigeria.
Misinformation
Beyond its rules against human exploitation, Meta is explicit in its intolerance for misinformation, yet conversations with surrogate agents on WhatsApp are often half-truths, outright lies or concealment in their pursuit to recruit women.
One of such experiences is an interaction with a surrogate agent, Omobolanle Oguntolu on WhatsApp, where it was found that her advertisement for surrogacy in the Surrogate Mothers Nigeria group had over 5,600 members. She added her phone number to the post so that interested candidates could contact her through her agency – Regal Surrogate Services.
When the Surrogate Mothers Nigeria group was brought to Meta’s attention, they deleted it. However, when Omobolanle was contacted on WhatsApp about being a surrogate, she claimed that she had helped more than 35 women become surrogates, adding that one would be paid up to N2,243,000; and sent a breakdown.
Our correspondent tried negotiating a higher figure with her and other agents but soon discovered that it was a take-it-or-leave-it deal.
One surrogate agent who identified herself simply as Sophia had a disclaimer to the financial offer she gave, stating, “Kindly read through the rules and regulations of the payment plan; there must be no complaint once you have signed the contract.”
When Omobolanle was told that it was our reporter’s first time so she should provide every piece of information one needed, she responded that aside the payment, there wasn’t much, and offered to answer more questions.
“Since this is your first time, you should know what you are getting yourself into,” she said.
Asked which hospital an interested surrogate would use, she said it was confidential, so she would not give the details until one was on one’s way there.
Asked what would happen if one experienced complications during the pregnancy or one died, she gave a “100 per cent guarantee for safety.”
Jumoke Falade, a nurse at the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, was shocked that surrogacy could be tagged “safe,” saying it came with risks associated with any other pregnancy, including death.
Omobolanle also claimed that usually, a surrogate would give birth through a cesarean section (CS) because, according to her, it is “better and safer” than natural birth. However, Olarenwaju, who is also a gynaecologist at Mother and Child Hospital, revealed that natural birth, not CS, is better for a surrogate because it comes with a faster post-delivery recovery process and does not leave a scar.
The medical professional further clarified that surrogacy does not deal only with usage of the woman’s womb. “The woman’s lungs are used to help the baby breathe. The blood is used for circulation and the nutrients from the woman’s body nourish the baby. The womb is only the house of the baby,” he said.
Beyond health misinformation, Omobolanle said commercial surrogacy was legal in Nigeria, and that’s why it is a norm in the country.
But a legal practitioner, Marvellous Igbineweka, argues that the National Health Act of 2014 provides a framework that makes commercial surrogacy illegal. The act prohibits the donation of human organs, cells or tissue for monetary purposes or profit. He further cited that the Child Rights Act of 2003, section 13 of the Trafficking in Persons (Prohibition) Enforcement and Administration Act, and Order 23 of the Code of Medical Ethics in Nigeria could be used to argue the illegality of the practice.
Another lawyer, Dogo Joy Njeb, emphasised that it’s only an argument. She states that “Anything the law has not explicitly criminalised is legal,” adding that Nigeria allows citizens to engage in contractual agreements, under which many surrogate arrangements occur.
Asked why one could not find online information about her agency, Regal Surrogate Services, to confirm her legitimacy, Omobolanle responded that it was just something “she calls herself.”
Government’s complicity
Omobolanle’s surrogate agency is unregistered, but no Nigerian law requires her to do so as it is silent on the practice. So the legality of commercial surrogacy is debatable.
Weekend Trust reports that members of the National Assembly responsible for making legislation in the country have attempted to pass a law but were unsuccessful. The Bill for Establishing a Nigerian Assisted Reproduction Authority (2012) and the Assisted Reproductive Technology (Regulatory) Bill 2016 were not passed due to the lawmakers’ lack of majority support.
When contacted regarding Nigeria’s lack of a surrogacy law, Christiana Eguma, the head of the Gender Technical Unit (GTU) in the National Assembly and programme coordinator of Women’s Rights Advancement and Protection Alternatives (WRAPA), said the GTU would intervene by developing a policy brief to highlight the gender, ethical and health implications of unregulated surrogacy practices.
However, Olamijuwonlo Alao-Akala, a House of Representatives member representing Ogbomoso North, South and Oriire constituencies, is sponsoring a national surrogacy regulatory commission bill. The bill, which passed the second reading in October 2024, is expected to monitor and mandate the registration of surrogate agencies. It will also prohibit monetary compensation in surrogacy arrangements (commercial surrogacy). This means that surrogates would not be paid for their service; hence, carrying a baby without payment (altruistic surrogacy) would become the norm.
Regarding the relevance of the bill, Alao-Akala argued, “It is to regulate and evaluate surrogacy in Nigeria, thereby ensuring that medical and health laws are not flouted.”
Similarly, Uchenna Okonkwo, representing Idemili North/South federal constituency of Anambra State, is sponsoring a bill titled, “A Bill for an Act to Protect the Health and Wellbeing of Women, Particularly in Relation to Surrogacy and for Related Matters.” The bill will also criminalise commercial surrogacy but legitimise altruistic surrogacy.
However, during an email correspondence, Olivia, a woman born through surrogacy, noted a problem with such bills: “We should not differentiate between commercial and altruistic surrogacy because there is no real difference between the two. Both rely on the same mechanism: using a woman’s body to fulfill the desires of others, often at the cost of her own health, autonomy and dignity.”
The United Nations also recommends that countries must eradicate surrogacy in all its forms, criminalise agencies and those facilitating it. It states that lawmakers must nullify surrogacy contracts, provide exit support strategies for surrogate mothers and regard them as the legal mothers of the babies they carry.
When Rep Alao-Akala was contacted via X (formerly Twitter), WhatsApp and email regarding the bill he is sponsoring and the international standard, he failed to respond. Similarly, Rep Okonkwo told our reporter to call back in two hours but never responded to subsequent calls, texts and emails.
Meanwhile, Olivia warned, “If Nigeria doesn’t act now, it risks becoming a hub for a global market that treats women’s bodies as tools and children as products.”
Back to Square 1
As Temitope continues to battle health challenges as a result of surrogacy, the N1.3 million she was paid was exhausted in three months. According to her, she spent a larger portion of the money to feed, pay her four children’s school fees, send money to her husband in prison and settle the debts she owed. With all the money gone, she now sells dried local cow skin (ponmo), hoping she would make enough money to survive and care for her children.