‘This only happens in the movies’: How Florida State coach Brooke Wyckoff’s sister became her surrogate

TALLAHASSEE, Fla. — Florida State coach Brooke Wyckoff had given up on the idea that she would become a mom again. Sitting inside the fertility clinic in the summer of 2024, she listened with growing distress as her doctor told her surrogacy would be the only option to have a baby of her own.

“Do you have any sisters who would be willing to do this for you?” he asked.

Wyckoff had three sisters, but they all lived in Ohio with their own children. Wyckoff, then 44, thought it would be too much to ask. How about a close friend who would be willing to act as a surrogate? Again, no.

The doctor suggested she could go through an agency to hire an anonymous surrogate, but the idea made Wyckoff feel uneasy. “I had no point of reference,” she says now. “I was thinking, ‘The Kardashians.'”

Wyckoff was not an international celebrity, but she had a public life and a responsibility to her school and players. Ultimately, she never said a word about the surrogacy conversation to anyone but her husband, Jose Ramon Esmoris — also known as Esmo.

Wyckoff already had a daughter, Avery, from a previous relationship, and the family of three was happy. Though Wyckoff and Esmoris wanted a biological child together, they both had accepted it might not happen.

The months passed, and Wyckoff prepared for the start of basketball season. Florida State opened with a record-breaking 119-49 win on Nov. 4 against North Florida. At 5:21 p.m. that same day, Wyckoff got a text from one of her sisters, Jaime Piening.

“I had the craaaaaziest dream last night.”

“Really?” Wyckoff replied. “Do tell!”

WYCKOFF AND ESMORIS met in Spain in 2004 — she was playing professionally there and so was he. They dated off and on, and though Esmoris wanted a long-term future with her, Wyckoff could never commit. Wyckoff eventually became an assistant at Florida State, had Avery as a single mom and lived with regret over not being more serious about Esmoris.

Then in 2019, she got a message on Facebook. Esmoris, still in his native Spain, had been out with friends. They’d asked about Wyckoff. He looked her up and, using his friend’s account, wrote, “Do you remember me, the handsome redhead?” Wyckoff responded and they reconnected. Only this time, Wyckoff would not let him get away. Within months, she proposed over the phone after a Christmas visit.

Esmoris eventually moved to Tallahassee, and the couple got married in 2021. Wyckoff was 41, Esmoris 46. He did not have children. The following year, she was elevated to head coach after 11 seasons as an assistant at her alma mater — where she is one of four players to have her jersey number retired.

Establishing herself in her new role was important, but so was trying to have a baby. In 2023, they went to a fertility clinic to begin the process of in vitro fertilization, or IVF. Eggs would be retrieved from Wyckoff and fertilized with her husband’s sperm in a lab. The resulting embryo would then be transferred to her uterus.

Given her age, just six eggs were retrieved, and only one viable embryo was produced. They planned for the embryo transfer in October. But that never happened. In September 2023, she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

“Everything came to a screeching halt,” Wyckoff said. “You hear you have cancer so you have the normal fear of mortality and what the heck is going to happen tomorrow?”

Because of the risks associated with her diagnosis and treatment plan, there was no way for Wyckoff to carry a child at that time.

Wyckoff had a double mastectomy and underwent chemotherapy, all while coaching the 2023-24 season and leading the Seminoles to the NCAA tournament. As taxing as that was, the treatment worked. She was cancer-free the following year and revisited the baby conversation with Esmoris. Their lone embryo remained frozen at the fertility clinic.

“I always wanted to have kids, but I was more concerned about Brooke getting healthy,” Esmoris said. “I told her if she wanted that, we should try.”

SO, THE CRAAAAAZIEST dream.

Piening woke up Nov. 4 feeling unsettled. In the dream, she stood in a white room across from Esmoris. Wyckoff was there, but out of sight. Piening kept talking about being their surrogate.

All day, Piening wondered what the dream meant. When she got home from work, she sent the text that changed their lives forever. Wyckoff immediately called.

“Jaime,” she said. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything that’s going on,” Piening said.

For the first time, Wyckoff told Piening about the conversation she had with her doctor several months back, explaining that a sister would be the best option to carry her baby.

Piening stopped Wyckoff.

“Brooke!” she said, “I’m doing this for you!”

Dumbfounded, Wyckoff started listing all the reasons it would not work. Piening ignored them all. By the end of the conversation, they had both told their husbands: “This is happening.”

“I just looked at it as an answer to her prayer,” Piening says now. “The dream put this whole thing in motion.”

“It just felt meant to be,” Wyckoff said.

Piening often makes decisions based on her gut feelings. Wyckoff, the oldest of six, and Piening are three years apart but closest in age. Piening said they were a “dynamic duo” growing up. When Piening learned Wyckoff needed a mastectomy during her breast cancer treatment, she flew down to be with her sister, no questions asked.

Piening already had three kids of her own, the youngest a daughter the same age as Avery, both 10 at the time. Though she was 41, Piening was sure that she needed to do this for her sister. The dream was a sign not to be ignored. Her husband, Dan, agreed. When they talked it out, Dan gave his unwavering support. So did their kids, after a more in-depth explanation.

“You have to choose life,” he told her.

Esmoris had many more questions. He was comfortable with his sister-in-law carrying his child, but he had a list of concerns. He worried about the toll a pregnancy in her 40s, with three older children, would take on Piening. He wondered how Piening and Wyckoff would handle the situation emotionally.

He worried Piening might develop postpartum depression or other complications, and he feared that could affect their relationship and their entire family.

Piening had previously scheduled a visit to Tallahassee for December, a month after their phone call. When she arrived, Piening first had a long conversation with Esmoris. He kept asking about the dream.

“Are you sure Brooke didn’t tell you about the surrogate? Because this only happens in the movies,” he said to Piening.

“I told him, ‘It’s called a miracle, and they do happen,'” Piening said.

She also reassured him that she understood his concerns, but she had made her decision.

“When I talked with Jaime and she told me, ‘I’m sure,’ I saw her comfortable, happy, excited, I said, ‘I’m OK.’ We were on the same page,” Esmoris said.

During that same visit, Piening went with Wyckoff to the fertility clinic to make sure she qualified to be a surrogate. Neither sister knew much about IVF or surrogacy until they started the process.

Gestational surrogacy — in which a woman carries and delivers a child for a couple using their embryo — has grown in popularity since the first case in the 1980s. According to the most recent statistics from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the use of gestational carriers in assisted reproductive technology climbed to 4.7% of American pregnancies, or 9,734 cases, in 2022 — compared to 2.6% in 2013. In many cases, anonymous surrogates are chosen through an agency. Statistics have not tracked the frequency of family members serving as surrogates.

Everything checked out for Piening — including what could have been a dealbreaker. She would be 42 at the time of birth — the cutoff age to be a surrogate.

“Let’s do the transfer,” the doctor told them.

Then came the hard part.

PIENING AND WYCKOFF each had to hire lawyers to draw up contracts, which are required for both the intended parents and their surrogate before medical treatment begins. Though Piening was not an anonymous surrogate, their lawyers had to work out not only the medical costs but discuss what to do if the life of the baby or Piening’s life were at risk.

Wyckoff covered the cost of the IVF transfer, plus all Piening’s medical expenses, lost wages, trips to a chiropractor and whatever else she needed. She also took out an extra life insurance policy for Piening. Wyckoff did not disclose how much she spent, but, typically, one IVF cycle and transfer to a surrogate costs between $20,000 to $35,000.

Going through the entire process was sobering. The family had to review all of the possible worst-case scenarios. But Piening never worried about her own life.

“There was never a sense of fear,” Piening said. “I just knew this was going to work. The dream made it so solidified in my mind. There was no Plan B. I just felt like God wasn’t going to put something in my path that was going to harm me or harm my family.”

They also met with a counselor to help them understand what they would be going through emotionally, particularly after birth — when the baby would be given to Wyckoff and Esmoris shortly after delivery. The counselor told Piening that it would be normal to feel a bond with the baby, and it also would be normal to feel sadness once the baby was born and handed to her sister.

“I am so grateful for that because it gave us permission to say what we needed and not try to default to the other person and tiptoe around feelings,” Piening said.

After the legal documents were completed, Piening began hormone treatments in February 2025 to prepare her body for the embryo transfer. In addition to wearing estrogen patches on her stomach, Piening had to inject a hormone shot into her buttocks every morning. This would go on for 10 weeks.

“The liquid is so thick, and the needle is so big, it was so painful. I had trouble walking. It just felt like your muscles were tense and tight,” she said.

The embryo transfer would take place in Jacksonville, Florida, in late March. Wyckoff was in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, as her Seminoles played LSU in the second round of the NCAA tournament. Jaime flew down with their sister, Alison Morrison, and watched the game on the plane — a 101-71 loss that ended the Seminoles’ season.

The following day, Piening readied for the procedure. The doctor used a special catheter to place the embryo into her uterus. On the ultrasound screen in the room, Piening and Morrison saw a brief flash of light: The embryo had been transferred. They called Wyckoff and cried.

The odds of getting pregnant were low, given her age, and the age of the egg used in the embryo. According to the Society for Assisted Reproductive Technology, IVF success rates for women over 40 are between 5% and 20%. Wyckoff, now 44, would not be able to go through another egg retrieval cycle to try to create another embryo. This was it.

“We had one chance,” Wyckoff said.

Piening returned to Ohio and had to wait 10 days for a blood test to determine whether she was pregnant. But the anticipation was too much. She bought multiple pregnancy tests a few days later, and they all showed she was pregnant. Esmoris was in Ohio when Piening went for the blood test and got official confirmation. They called Wyckoff, who was at the Women’s Final Four in Tampa.

“Oh my gosh, it’s happening!” Wyckoff said.

PIENING TRIED TO shield Wyckoff from how bad the pregnancy made her feel. She was constantly nauseous, a symptom she did not have in her previous pregnancies. Her mood swings increased dramatically, and her irritability grew. Her back ached. She and her husband found themselves constantly explaining to strangers and neighbors that yes, she was pregnant, but, no, the baby was not theirs.

Wyckoff, meanwhile, tempered her excitement. She did not tell Florida State officials or her staff until August, her team a few weeks later.

“I just knew 80,000 things could go wrong,” Wyckoff said. “And with my job, I never want anything that’s going on with me personally to ever affect how I’m viewed. When people see me as Coach Brooke, I want them to see I am focused on making this the best team and program that it can be.”

Piening was scheduled to be induced Dec. 8, a date specifically picked around the Florida State basketball schedule. Esmoris drove Avery to Ohio earlier that weekend. Wyckoff left Tallahassee on Dec. 7 after a 93-58 loss to Notre Dame. Her flight to Ohio was so delayed, she did not make it into her hotel room until 5 a.m. Two hours later, she was at the hospital, fighting an upper respiratory infection and wearing a mask.

Wyckoff, Esmoris, Piening, her husband and their oldest daughter, Elle, were in the delivery room together. Esmoris stood next to Piening on one side and held her hand; her husband stood on the other and did the same. All was going to plan until it came time to push. The baby’s shoulder got stuck in the birth canal, and she was in respiratory distress. A nurse got on the bed and started pushing hard on Piening’s stomach to try and help the baby out.

After a few tense moments, they delivered a baby girl. But she did not cry or make a sound, as she struggled to breathe. The doctors called for more help, and whisked the baby away to an incubator on the opposite side of the room. Wyckoff started bawling, fearing the worst.

“After everything it took to get here, ‘All you could think was, ‘No, no, no, no,'” she said.

After what felt like an eternity, doctors reassured Wyckoff the baby would be OK. To this day, she is unsure what caused the breathing problems. They gave the baby, named Noa, to Wyckoff and she and Esmoris took turns holding her. She was wide awake, staring right at them.

Three years of waiting, three years of hoping, three years of agony, brought them to this moment, cradling their newborn. They got their miracle.

“God had a plan,” Wyckoff said. “Because of the cancer battle, this happened. My sister and I had a chance to become closer, to do this together. Life does this — where the worst happens, and then good comes out of it. That makes it so much more meaningful.”

The next day, Wyckoff and Esmoris strapped one-day old Noa into a car seat, then hopped into their Suburban with Avery and Wyckoff’s parents and drove 14 hours from Cincinnati back to Tallahassee. Wyckoff and her mom, Blair, took turns watching over the baby as Esmoris drove overnight to get them home.

“It was literal hell, but I wanted to get home,” Wyckoff said.

She returned to work without publicly disclosing she’d had a baby, enduring the first losing season at Florida State since 2011-12 — her first year on staff as an assistant. Wyckoff worried that those outside the program would think having the baby distracted her from the job, even though Florida State had lost its three best players from the previous season and had only 10 scholarship players on the roster.

Wyckoff did not allow the frustration of the season to follow her home. Noa allowed her perspective she may not have had otherwise. While she works, Esmoris stays home and takes care of Avery and Noa, who has quickly become daddy’s little girl. The peach fuzz she has on top of her head looks like it may come in red, just like the red hair that drew Wyckoff to Esmoris.

“I’m thrilled that this baby has him for a dad,” Blair Wyckoff said. “She only has eyes for him. I’ve never seen that type of attachment. She cranes her neck and follows him wherever he goes.”

Five months after giving birth, Piening still pumps and sends frozen breast milk to Wyckoff every week to feed the baby. It is the least she can do, Piening says. She came to visit in March over spring break, and describes a “deeper level of connection” with Noa because she carried her. Wyckoff sends photos constantly. Piening is going to Spain with Wyckoff, Esmoris, Avery and Noa to introduce the baby to Esmoris’ mother and extended family.

“I don’t know how to thank her,” Esmoris says of Piening. “She will always be special. After that, she is more my sister than sister-in-law. For me, she is like a hero.”

Esmoris has never said these words to Piening, but he thanked her in the hospital, shortly after baby Noa was born.

“This sweet baby is God’s gift to you,” Piening told him.

Her husband, Dan, then turned to her.

“Jaime, is this like your dream?”

“It hit me,” Piening said. “Esmo was standing right in front of me, just like in the dream. I couldn’t see Brooke, even though I knew she was there. She was sitting down behind him holding the baby. The room was full of medical staff and family. It was like the dream, but now with all the white space filled in.”