"How much is your child worth?". The question is not rhetorical or provocative: it is the slogan with which a surrogacy agency addresses clients from Madrid, despite this activity and its advertising being prohibited in Spain. While courts impose sanctions and prohibitions, companies in the sector continue to operate normally through websites, mirror domains, and covert advertising. Just open a browser.
The latest judicial warning now comes from the Madrid Court of First Instance, which has sentenced Go4Baby for carrying out "unlawful and unfair advertising" by offering these services on the Internet, ordering the immediate cessation of the campaign and prohibiting its repetition. The ruling, which fully accepts the Prosecutor's claim, reminds that these practices "cannot be the subject of commercial promotion in Spain". On paper, the message is clear. In practice, the activity continues.
"Gestlife cannot advertise in Spain". The warning appears as soon as you enter its main website. It is there invoking Organic Law 1/2023 which prohibits the promotion of surrogacy. Immediately after, the company itself invites the user to "go to [the website of] one of the countries where it is allowed" to "obtain the necessary information". Not here - it implies - but right next door.
This 'right next door' takes the form of mirror domains, cloned pages, and search engines. Because the website that "does not provide information" coexists with others that do - such as gestlifesurrogacy.us and other similar domains - where the same Spanish phone numbers, addresses in Spain, and detailed descriptions of programs, prices, and guarantees appear. Among them, the company also maintains a prominent presence on Google by purchasing keywords, including competitors like the sanctioned Go4Baby.
Additionally, after accessing any of their web pages, the same company (which operates through a front company in the US) persistently bombards users with ads on Instagram to schedule a first appointment. "You don't have to worry about anything," summarizes the company. "Just provide the genetic material. Gestlife and its subsidiaries take care of the rest." The rest comes with a price. "A surrogacy process in Ukraine costs between 53,000 and 75,000 euros," details the company, adding another maxim: "Every misfortune always hides some advantage." The phrase appears in the section dedicated to that country, where the war is not presented as an obstacle, but as another variable in the market: "there is a surplus of surrogate supply," "there is no waiting list," and "programs are more affordable."
The process, explained with logistical precision, boils down to "making the trip to pick up the baby in approximately 18 months". Before that, the male client has provided his sperm to fertilize an egg sold by a Ukrainian woman who "has no dispositional control over her oocytes once they have been donated, and they have no legal rights." Then, the embryo is implanted in a second Ukrainian woman.
The service architecture unfolds in layers. First, the selection: they offer a genetic diagnosis that allows them to "ensure that each implanted embryo is the best." Then, the execution: "payments in phases," "24/7 support," "medical, transportation, and housing expenses covered." And if something goes wrong, customer service includes a "program restart". A euphemism for referring to the child replacement guarantee (as long as they are under two years old) "in case of the baby's death for any reason or cause, including domestic or traffic accidents," details the website. The goal, according to the company, is for the client to have "the certainty of having the desired child, no matter what."
The process does not end with the birth in Kiev. It continues afterward, when trying to bring the child back to Madrid. "Spanish authorities do not register children born through surrogacy," acknowledges the company. That is why they foresee "a filiation process" and, if necessary, "adoption of the baby by the second spouse." If problems arise because the consulate complies with the legislation, the solution is planned: "file a demand for urgent precautionary measures." All of this, they emphasize, "included in our programs" for "Spanish clients".
Spain appears time and time again as an explicit market, despite legislative prohibitions and condemnatory rulings. Both in the offer and in the contact channels and in the legal structure of the itinerary itself.
Meanwhile, the company boasts that during the process, they have devices for what they call the "transition," a euphemism for handing over the newborn to the clients. They call this object the "pregnancy ball" and explain that it is "a bell that [the pregnant Ukrainian woman] wears on a pendant around her neck, at belly level." "This sound," they specify, "reaches the baby, who identifies it with its mother. After birth, the ball is handed over to the commissioning mother or father, so that the baby continues to link it to its parent and feels that nothing has changed."
Additionally, they boast that pregnant women must respond to "confidential" questionnaires reviewed by management through a mobile application, where they must inform the company about their "mood" and "progress."
All wrapped in the language of "miracle," "gift of destiny," "giving life". But described, at the same time, in commercial terms like "costs," "deadlines," "guarantees," and "restarts" with which they promise that, regardless of the law, "your dream of having a child will come true no matter what."