A would-be surrogate gave us a gift. It wasn't the one we were expecting - ABC News & Headlines – Australian Broadcasting Corporation

Sashi expected certain things when she shared her and husband Charlie's fertility struggles online. What she didn't expect was for someone to offer to be their surrogate. (Supplied: Juliet Lemon)

I started sharing my failures in fertility five years ago.

Mostly because I have a big mouth. And I couldn't dodge the constant question: "Do you have kids?" Everyone asks it. Colleagues, acquaintances, that person I bumped into on the way to the bin.

I expected sharing my miscarriages and failed IVF transfers to bring in a barrage of advice: "Sashi, have you tried [insert doctor, product, test, treatment or magic spell]?"

It was so well-intentioned that I fast learnt to politely nod while internally howling into a canyon.

I also expected strangers to short-circuit in response to my breaking of the social contract to only share good news.

Once, after hearing of my miscarriages, a woman put her hands on my stomach and said, "I do declare your womb will bear, by the will of God."

I politely nodded so the barbecue could continue. Unfortunately, whichever god she contacted was busy.

What I never expected was the outpouring of support, and to hear from so many in the same situation.

What I also didn't expect was a stranger to volunteer as a surrogate.

Last spring, I shared the stranger's message with my husband, Charlie. After firmly deciding to take a break from IVF, I had researched other options with the zeal of an Olympic sprinter hurtling towards the finish line.

The waters of international adoption and commercial surrogacy appeared murky and expensive. Now, here was a surrogate in our own city. Someone who seemed far too altruistic for the cynical world shouted about on the nightly news.

Finding out her fertility struggles weren't about her body being unable to carry a child gave Sashi a sense of freedom she had not felt in a long time. (Supplied: Sashi Perera)

Charlie said: "That's got to be a weirdo, love," and I said: "Almost definitely, but it's worth a phone call."

That call led to meeting a kind and lovely human at a cafe a few months later. She was married with two kids and felt compelled by our story to contact me. There are good people doing good things constantly, they're just not featured in the news too often.

I looked into the state of Victoria's surrogacy process, which requires counselling, legal advice and medical approvals. Even with two law degrees, it was a lot to decipher.

We decided to walk the path lined with endless paperwork. The first step was to get approval from my IVF clinic. I thought that would be the easiest one. I didn't expect the answer I got.

"You can do this," they said over the phone, "but it's unlikely to make a difference in your case."

It was the first time I was told the problem likely wasn't my body, it was the embryos. For whatever reason the tests couldn't pinpoint, they weren't keepers.

I'd spent so long feeling guilty. It was why I'd researched every other path, to the exasperation of Charlie, who said we'd be fine without kids.

I'd taken every pill and potion available, consulted with a UK-based naturopath I've never seen or met, used a hormone tracking device to monitor my daily pee, and watched what I ate, drank and how I slept.

I thought that if I did enough, I could shake the guilt that screamed it was my defective body's fault that we couldn't grow a family.

And now, I'd found a whole other, clearly functioning body. And that still wasn't enough?!

I should've felt fury but all I felt was relief.

My shoulders dropped from the level of my ears. I didn't even know they were up there. Or how long they'd been like that for.

Years ago, I tried wakeboarding for the first time. I was really struggling to stay on the board and was distracted by the thought that waterboarding was a far more sensible term for boarding on the water — why did we use that term for a terrible form of torture instead?

My friend shouted from the boat, you're fighting with the rope for control instead of letting it guide you, you've got to relax your hold.

I've been told to relax my whole life and would you believe, it's never helped me to relax. But the moment I slackened my hold on the rope that tethered me to the boat, I flew over the water on a board.

I thought about that moment after my call with the IVF clinic.

Being told to relax her whole life never helped Sashi relax, except that one time wakeboarding. Letting go of her need to solve infertility felt a little like that. (Supplied: Sashi Perera)

For the first time, I believed that it was not my fault and there was nothing more I could do. I threw every pill and test into the bin along with the hormone monitoring device. I fished that last one back out because it was quite expensive and might come in handy for menopause.

With no finish line for me to sprint towards, I discovered the ability to relax my hold and enjoy whatever's ahead, without trying to control it.

I'm now on the biggest tour of my comedy career with Charlie. The surrogate gave us a gift, just not in the way we expected.