She lives in a small Texas town, goes to church on Sundays, and has never met an Israeli. You live in central Israel, your English comes from TV shows, and your knowledge of America amounts to New York and Orlando. And now you're supposed to share the most intimate two years imaginable. Sounds like a recipe for misunderstandings? Sometimes. But in my experience – these very gaps become the beautiful part of the story, if you know how to navigate them.
Start with what surprises Israelis about American communication: the politeness. When an American surrogate writes "I was wondering if maybe we could possibly...", she isn't hesitating – she's asking. Israelis, used to directness, sometimes miss requests wrapped in such softness, or worse – sound aggressive to her when writing in our direct style. A golden rule of thumb: add one more layer of softness than feels natural to you. "Would you mind sending the results when you get a chance?" does the same job, without the screech.
Religion comes up in almost every Israeli-American journey, and usually for the better. Many surrogates come from a believing Christian background, and quite a few see surrogacy as a genuine calling. Mutual curiosity – she asks about your holidays, you learn about her community – builds real closeness. In our case, a short explanation about Hanukkah led to receiving a photo of candles lit in our honor in Oregon. You don't plan moments like that; you make room for them.
What should you still be careful about? Politics – American and Israeli alike. You have one precious shared project; you don't have to agree on everything else, and you don't have to check. Also: humor. Israeli sarcasm doesn't always travel well in writing and translation. A joke two friends in Tel Aviv would laugh at can read as an insult in Texas. Save the sarcasm for video calls, where tone and a smile do the work.
And the most important thing I learned: behind all the gaps there's far more similarity than you'd think. She also checks her phone at night, she's also excited before every scan, her family also asks questions. The moment the relationship shifts from "coordinating with a vendor" to "two households building something together" – the gaps turn from glitches into stories you'll tell for years.
My tip: send a small Israeli care package early in the relationship – snacks, something sweet, a postcard from your city. And ask her for a local recommendation in return. Nothing breaks the ice like mutual curiosity about food.
