Ukraine's Surrogacy Gold Rush Is About to Collapse - And Nobody Saw This Coming

Ukraine has quietly become the world’s second-largest commercial surrogacy hub, a distinction born from desperation. War devastated the economy. Millions lost jobs. Inflation soared. GDP plummeted. For women like 22-year-old Karina Tarasenko from Bakhmut, surrogacy became survival.

Karina’s city was obliterated in the early Russian invasion. Her home destroyed. She and her partner fled to Kyiv with their toddler, scraping together enough money for bread and nappies. One day in a shop, facing financial ruin, she made a choice: become a surrogate.

She’s now six months pregnant with a Chinese couple’s biological child. The payment: £12,500 ($17,000) - roughly double Ukraine’s average salary. Yet Karina’s contract contained a brutal clause. When one of twins she was carrying died, her compensation was slashed. She accepted it. Now she plans to have as many surrogate babies as physically possible to save enough for a home.

But her dreams could shatter soon. Ukraine’s parliament is advancing legislation that would effectively demolish the surrogacy industry overnight. The proposed bill introduces strict oversight AND bans foreigners from accessing surrogacy services. Consider the impact: foreigners represent 95% of intended parents. A ban would eviscerate the entire sector.

Why the crackdown? Critics say surrogacy clinics have turned reproduction into a commodity, ruthlessly exploiting vulnerable women. Take BioTexCom Centre for Human Reproduction, Ukraine’s largest clinic. In January, they posted an AI-generated ad showing a woman choosing between heating fuel and children’s clothes - explicitly targeting war-traumatized Ukrainians. In 2021, they ran a “Black Friday sale” on surrogate babies.

The accusations get darker. In 2018, Ukraine’s prosecutor’s office launched a human trafficking investigation into BioTexCom’s CEO Albert Tochilovsky and staff members. The case remains suspended, ostensibly for “international cooperation.” BioTexCom denies everything, blaming a DNA mismatch on foreign sperm collection.

Then there’s Wei. Five years old. Brain damaged from premature birth. His intended parents from Southeast Asia never collected him. They vanished. He now lives in a state-run disability home, requiring 24-hour care for life. No adoptive family wants him. Fifteen families reviewed his file. None stepped forward.

His surrogate mother wanted nothing to do with him. Ukrainian law offered her zero obligation. BioTexCom calls it a “tragedy” but hasn’t contributed financially to his care.

Valeria Soruchan from Ukraine’s Health Ministry confirms: “A lot” of children are abandoned post-birth. The government doesn’t track exact numbers. Yet clinics face zero legal liability.

Women’s rights activist Maria Dmytrieva goes further: she opposes surrogacy entirely, arguing the proposed law doesn’t go far enough. The practice should be banned completely.

Still, not everyone agrees. The Bajwa couple from London - after five years of failed fertility treatments, IVF cycles, and Rajvir’s endometriosis and MS diagnosis - turned to Ukrainian surrogacy. They call it transformative. “Surrogacy made us a family,” they say.

The collision is inevitable: desperate women versus vulnerable children versus infertile couples versus ethical concerns versus economic survival. Parliament must decide which priority wins.