A Gay Couple’s Mexican Surrogacy Quest Amid UK Hurdles and High Costs

Jules Von Hep has wanted a child since he can remember. For many, that dream is easily fulfilled, but as a gay man he always knew it would take years of saving and a special route to parenthood.

The only biological path for him is surrogacy, a process that can cost tens of thousands of pounds and often requires a lengthy hunt for the right match. Von Hep describes it as an “incredibly painful, incredibly expensive” journey.

“I’ve always known that surrogacy is the option I wanted to go down. That, really, has led to the career choices that I’ve made, how I’ve worked, making sure that I was always saving money in the bank for fertility,” he said.

Von Hep and his partner, Mark Beverlo, began their parenting quest in 2020. They signed up with an IVF clinic, purchased donor eggs and passed rigorous sperm‑testing requirements. The expenses quickly escalated, from £1,000 for initial consultations to £13,000 for a round of embryo creation, which included a failed cycle.

They then joined a surrogacy agency, only to discover a UK waiting list of two to three years for volunteer surrogates. Exploring unregulated Facebook groups, where hopeful parents pitch themselves to potential surrogates, left Von Hep uncomfortable: “I just couldn’t bear the idea of pitching our lives, standing there in front of the house with a dog and saying: ‘This is what we’ve got.’”

Eventually the agency paired them with a surrogate, and embryo transfers began at £5,000 each. After those attempts failed, they tried at‑home insemination—sometimes called “turkey basting”—which also proved unsuccessful. The couple decided to abandon surrogacy in the UK.

Turning their eyes abroad, they found Ukraine closed by war, the US prohibitively expensive (around £250,000), and Canada and Mexico as remaining options. Mexico legalised commercial surrogacy for same‑sex parents in 2021, offering a cost comparable to the UK’s altruistic model—roughly £60,000 to £90,000.

“The difference doing it commercially is unbelievable. The knowledge that the egg donors are being paid, that everyone is – there’s nothing woolly about the situation,” he said.

The fee covers all medical bills, expenses and a compensation package for the surrogate, typically around MXN 388,000 (£16,914), according to their agency, My Surrogacy Journey Mexico City (MSJMX).

“[Our surrogate] has been a surrogate before, and she is also trying to build a business. I think that’s where commercial surrogacy helped. She was very open about it. She said: ‘Yeah, I’m trying to build my business, and this is a great way of earning extra money.’

“For me, that answer was really refreshing. I’m like, OK, perfect. We’re all in this together. Everyone is getting what they need. There’s no murkiness.”

The agency they work with is UK‑based and queer‑founded, which Von Hep feels makes it more attuned to their needs. It helped them locate their surrogate through video calls.

Concerns persist about Mexico’s fragmented legal landscape—two states have banned the practice while three have governing laws. Researchers warn that impoverished women may “rent their wombs as a survival strategy,” and there are reports of coercion by abusive spouses. MSJMX states that “ensuring the ethical and legal protection of both intended parents and surrogates is one of our highest priorities,” and it operates only in surrogacy‑friendly jurisdictions such as Mexico City, employing human‑rights specialists and reproductive‑law attorneys.

The couple has shipped their sperm to Mexico, selected a new egg donor and had embryos fertilised. They are now awaiting the transfer procedure.

If the pregnancy succeeds, Von Hep and Beverlo plan to remain in Mexico for roughly three to six months to secure their baby’s passport before returning to the UK. There they will need to apply for a parental order through family courts to obtain legal recognition as parents.

This, they say, will be their final attempt at biological parenthood. Yet Von Hep is cautiously optimistic that this time may finally work, prompting him to recommend Mexican surrogacy to other gay and straight couples facing fertility challenges.

“It feels like the wild west in the UK. The professionalism from the Mexican clinics – I can’t fault it. It’s unbelievable and it costs the same price,” he said.

Despite his frustrations with the UK system, he expresses deep gratitude to surrogate mothers. “Anyone who is willing to be a surrogate is like an angel on earth. Whether it’s to help a friend, relative or total stranger, it’s one of the most selfless acts of kindness and love I can think of. We wouldn’t be able to even dream of having children of our own if it wasn’t for the benevolence of surrogates,” he said.

He also hopes his story will help break the taboo around gay men’s path to parenthood, encouraging more open dialogue about the financial and emotional hurdles involved.

“I feel like the conversation around gay men having babies, and the money that it costs, and how difficult it is, needs to be talked about so that it’s not as difficult for the generations under me,” he said.

“The more same‑sex relationships are accepted and embraced within this country, the more gay men are going to want to have a family, because this social norm is shifting to embrace same‑sex couples.”

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