The surrogacy market in Georgia experienced a significant boom following the war in Ukraine, as the country now becomes one of the main destinations for international couples due to liberal regulations and the availability of affordable services. However, Georgia’s local supply of surrogates cannot meet growing demand, which is in turn leading clinics to recruit from Central Asia’s Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan.
The movement of Central Asian women into surrogacy is shaped by the region’s specific socio-economic and gendered pressures, following the transition to market economies. In many Central Asian countries, limited formal employment, the unequal burden of reproductive labor and the erosion of social safety nets have heightened women’s vulnerability in the labor market and pushed them into informal or transnational sectors. Surrogacy is rarely seen as legitimate labor. Instead, it is widely stigmatized and deemed morally questionable or even shameful. During my fieldwork with the Repromobilities project, I met Aissulu, a 38-year-old mother of five from Astana, Kazakhstan who, alongside others, illustrates how women from Kazakhstan and beyond pursue surrogacy not out of altruism but as a means of supporting their families amidst precarious labor markets. For thousands of women - especially single mothers - this practice has become a form of work and is one of the few viable ways to balance motherhood with earning an income, despite moral debates.
When we met in Tbilisi, Aissulu had already been in Georgia for two months awaiting a successful embryo transfer after two failed attempts.1 She jokes that her husband at home has only just come to understand how much work parenting requires when she’s not around. She had worked as a baker but couldn’t commit to full-time employment while caring for her children, so instead occasionally sold homemade cakes to help supplement the family income. Her earnings from previous surrogacy work in Kazakhstan allowed her to buy a small house. Pursuing surrogacy again seemed like the best way to renovate the house and invest in her home-based confectionery business.
Kazakhstan law prohibits women over 36 who have had more than four deliveries or C-sections from becoming surrogates, which means that women like Aissulu are now seeking opportunities in Georgia, where regulations are less strict and compensation is better. She was recently matched with a Chinese couple, which reflects a growing trend of international clients migrating to Georgia in search of a surrogate.
The Compensation Scheme
Once accepted into the program, surrogates are compensated according to a structured payment system. The scheme starts with a daily allowance of $10 before the embryo transfer, with payments increasing as the pregnancy progresses. On the day of embryo transfer surrogates receive $300 followed by another $300 once a heartbeat is detected at six weeks and monthly payments of $300 thereafter throughout the pregnancy. The final lump sum of $17,000 is paid after delivery, although women over 36 years old like Aissulu receive slightly lower compensation. There is an additional $2,000 bonus for the delivery of twins. For many surrogates, this compensation can be a lifeline, providing enough funds to buy a house, pay off debts, or start a small business.
With age and experience, many former surrogates assume agent roles. During my fieldwork in Georgia I met Indira, an economist in her 40s from Kazakhstan, with a 17-year-old son back home. Indira expressed regret for starting surrogacy so late. She had only just begun when she found herself in a financially desperate situation, struggling to repay loans after her marriage ended: “I can see that surrogacy is a gold mine for Georgia, but for [individual] surrogates it’s also very profitable. Everyone comes here because they have a problem”. After completing two surrogacy arrangements for a local couple in Kazakhstan, successfully delivering twins and then a third baby, she expanded her income through recruitment and coordination roles, using social media advertisements to attract potential surrogates. Agents like Indira earn $700 for each successful referral, but some agents in Georgia can earn up to $2,000 per surrogate.
“Gestating an apartment for my kid”
Beyond the immediate financial pressures, surrogates often face immense emotional strain. A Many women hide their surrogacy work from relatives and friends out of fear of rejection and shame. “Their fathers don’t know where they are,” explained Valeriy, an agent, about two surrogates who abruptly left Tbilisi to return home to Kazakhstan. “They packed their bags, bought tickets, and left. Their embryo transfers had been scheduled for that week.”
Living in a different country has helped some women to keep their surrogacy work a secret from their families. Aigerim, from Semey in eastern Kazakhstan, turned to surrogacy to support her four-year-old daughter after leaving an abusive relationship. As an unmarried mother in her early twenties, Aigerim felt stigmatized and misunderstood by her community. The struggle to find stable, well-paying employment amid limited male participation in caregiving roles and inadequate access to state-provided childcare, surrogacy offers a way to secure housing and income stability.
None of Aigerim’ relatives or friends know she works as a surrogate. She told them she was employed as a nanny in Georgia. Her daughter has lived with her grandparents since birth while Aigerim frequently worked abroad, so Aigerim’s year-long absence has raised little suspicion. Despite this, she admits that she is afraid of her male relatives finding out about her surrogacy work because they would consider it uyat (shameful): “If they knew the truth, my father and brother would kill me.” In her family’s eyes,
surrogacy is not only equated with “selling children,” but also seen as a transgression of accepted gender norms - by involving reproduction outside of marriage and for payment. By aligning her surrogacy work with her role as a family provider and caring mother, Aigerim mitigates the stigma of uyat: "I was ashamed at first, but over time, the shame went away. After all, I am 'gestating' an apartment for my kid." After giving birth to a baby for a Chinese couple in September 2024, Aigerim returned to Semey to reunite with her daughter and, by December, had already headed back to Georgia to pursue another surrogacy. The social stigma may be felt strongly, but this does not appear to deter individuals from accessing the “gold mine” Georgian surrogacy work presents.
