The Motherhood They Want to Criminalize From Tehran to Marbella — One Woman’s Fight for the Right to Motherhood

Niusha Walker never imagined her path to motherhood would lead her here — to the sun-soaked hills of Marbella, raising her two-year-old daughter London between palm trees and political firestorms.

“I wish I could tell you I chose surrogacy to save my figure,” she says with a half-laugh. “I wish it was that simple, that shallow, that easy to dismiss.”

Instead, she endured seven failed pregnancies, blood transfusions, and experimental treatments that altered her immune system — all before finally accepting that her body, no matter how desperately she willed it, would never carry her child.

Now, as governments around the world move to criminalize the very process that gave her London, Niusha realizes her most private pain has become a global political battleground.

“I never thought I’d see the day where surrogacy would be considered problematic,” she says, exhaustion softening her polished tone. “Especially now, when everyone’s so ‘woke,’ when everyone supposedly has freedom of choice. Why is surrogacy something we can’t decide on?”

It’s a question that cuts to the heart of a worldwide assault on reproductive freedom — one targeting not just LGBTQ+ families, but straight women like Walker who discover that motherhood, for them, requires help.

From Tehran to Toronto Niusha’s story begins where so many immigrant stories do: with parents who sacrificed everything for a better life. Born in Tehran, she moved to Canada at five, watching her parents rebuild from nothing — learning a new language, culture, and identity.

“Seeing my parents start over taught me what it takes to build something real,” she reflects. “The grit, the time, the patience.”

That resilience fueled her rise to become one of the GTA’s top real-estate brokers. But it couldn’t prepare her for the heartbreak of infertility.

The medical interventions read like a catalogue of hope and heartbreak: IVF, IUI, IVIG blood transfusions, and experimental treatments where white blood cells were injected into her arm to trick her immune system into not attacking embryos. Each attempt carried hope. Each failure carried devastation.

“Even with embryos graded as amazing quality, nothing in science is guaranteed,” she says quietly. “After seven failed pregnancies, our doctor sat us down and said, ‘You either adopt or you get a surrogate. If you want your own child, surrogacy is your best chance.’”

The decision felt like both surrender and salvation — a final shot wrapped in science, faith, and longing.

A Global Backlash What Niusha didn’t anticipate was how her personal medical journey would become a lightning rod in the global war on women’s bodies.

Italy now imposes million-euro fines and prison sentences for surrogacy, even if performed abroad. Similar restrictions are spreading across Europe and the United States, turning the act of family-building into a criminal offense.

“That’s devastating,” she says, shaking her head. “No government should have the authority to take away the right to reproduce. A couple should be able to build a family however they choose.”

The irony isn’t lost on her: the same governments preaching “family values” are making it illegal for people to have families.

Even in Marbella — playground of the global elite, where luxury and liberation share the same coastline — the conversation around motherhood remains complicated. At dinner parties and beach clubs, whispers about “real motherhood” linger, proof that stigma doesn’t respect borders.

Building an Empire, Building a Legacy Today, Niusha juggles her thriving real-estate business with life as a mother, raising London between Toronto and Marbella. Her Instagram is a blend of luxury listings and toddler giggles — a deliberate act of visibility in a world that often erases women like her.

“I want London to grow up knowing her mom worked hard, built her own business, and created a life on her own terms,” she says. “I want her to look back and say, ‘My mom made it happen.’”

Motherhood has made Niusha more empathetic toward working parents and more defiant toward outdated expectations. “Parenting is humbling,” she admits. “Nobody talks about how hard it is. But nothing’s impossible when your heart’s in it.”

When asked what she’d say to lawmakers pushing surrogacy bans, her answer is immediate:

“Don’t.”

For Iranian-Canadian and immigrant mothers watching her story unfold, her message is broader:

“Keep pushing through. Stay independent, follow your passion, and don’t let anyone stop you. It’s never too late. Nothing’s impossible.”

The Fight That Never Ends From Tehran to Toronto to Marbella, Niusha Walker’s journey is more than personal triumph — it’s quiet political rebellion. Every photo of London, every business success, every ounce of joy is proof that families come in many forms.

Love, not law, should define them.

“I’d do it ten times over to have London,” she says — part vulnerability, part defiance.

In a world trying to decide who deserves to be a parent, her story stands as both warning and beacon: the fight for reproductive freedom isn’t about the future — it’s about protecting the families that already exist because of it.

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