For some of us, enduring gestation in order to bring our own children into the world is difficult enough, but what emotional and physical challenges must a woman who decides to carry another woman's child go through?

This month new laws decriminalising altruistic surrogacy in Queensland are expected to be put in place.

The change would allow a woman to give birth to another couple's child for no payment. A surrogate can offer her womb as a labour of love out of the kindness of her heart, not for reward or benefit.

Currently, Queensland is the only state where altruistic surrogacy is a criminal offence, bringing a $10,000 fine or three years' imprisonment.

Queensland might only just be catching up with the rest of the nation, but on a global scale surrogacy laws vary widely.

There is currently great debate surrounding the rapid rise in commercial surrogacy that has seen "rent a womb" clinics popping up all over India.

Ethicists and psychologists are weighing in on the issue with one US sociologist asking "difficult questions about emotional attachment".

In her compelling article Childbirth at the Global Crossroads, Arlie Hochschild argues surrogates are forced to "suppress feelings that could interfere with doing their job".

In the article one surrogate mother acknowledges her bond by claiming "It's my blood, even if it's their genes". Other moral dilemmas are addressed including babies recognising their surrogate's voice and children returning as adults to meet their surrogates.

I would argue it near impossible NOT to form some kind of bond with a child nourished and grown in your own womb, be it biologically yours on not.

Are we asking the impossible by expecting surrogate mums to deny their natural feelings of bonding with the baby inside them?

The recently released documentary Google Baby offers a view into the business of surrogacy as a whole, with chilling undertones of what might be considered exploitation of women from poor nations, by savvy entrepreneurs guided by the simple business ethos of supply and demand.

At one point in my life I was told I'd find it difficult to fall pregnant. I was in the process of setting a date for surgery that would give me a better chance of conceiving when, against the odds and most unexpectedly, I fell pregnant.

Prior to this I had considered a life without children and the prospect of adoption.

Both options obviously weren't in "my plan", but sometimes we don't always get what we want - a notion somewhat foreign in today's egocentric world where we are told we CAN have whatever we want.

While I consider any woman who gives up her body and nine months of her life for someone else as one very unselfish, self-sacrificing person, what's wrong with accepting and coming to terms with our limitations as human beings?