The other day a good friend of mine offered her brother to be a donor…and now, despite my conviction of using fresh sperm from a known donor for reasons of sperm longevity, viability, and cost-effectiveness, I think I’d rather use frozen goods from a bank.
All I talk about is sperm. Like, all of the time. If you’re in my life, you’ve heard me talk about sperm. You’ve heard me debate the merits of frozen sperm vs. fresh sperm, you’ve heard me pine over men in my life (well, just their sperm, not the actual men). It’s all that’s on my mind and therefore all that I talk about. Because all I talk about is sperm, it’s natural that this friend has heard me talk about my obsession with trying to find the perfect guy, with the perfect sperm count, perfect genetics and full head of hair to be at my beck and call for a commitment of 1-12 months, twice-maybe three times-a month until I reach the holy state of pregnancy.
This friend is a progressive, straight, Jewish woman very close to her family.
A few years back, some lesbian friends of theirs were on the same quest for sperm and she suggested that her brother should donate. These women were close to the family, they loved them, wouldn’t it be an amazing gift? she reasoned. He was single, what’s the big deal? Apparently it was a big deal, he couldn’t do it, as much as he loved these family friends.
Years passed and the brother got married and now my friend has three lovely nephews. Over Shabbat dinner two weeks ago she mentioned my name and my quest and the brother, nonchalantly said, “I’d do that.” My friend was shocked, one marriage and three children ago he wouldn’t consider it for good friends (who now have children of their own), but he’d shoot in a cup for a woman he’s never met simply because his sister is my friend? Stranger still, his wife (who also has LGBTQ friends in her life) is also fine with it, even more strange his sister, my friend is all for it.
She asked me to coffee last week to tell me the good news and I faked excitement for fresh semen from a wonderful guy, who’s clearly got good sperm count, a great smile and full head of hair. I told her I’d think it over and get back to her, and I still haven’t.
As much as this is exactly what I want, I’m not sure if it’s what I want any more. I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d think or say if I got pregnant with her brother’s sperm. Would she see the child as her friend’s baby or as a half-niece or nephew? Would her brother see the child as my own or his? What about his wife? their family? their children? our mutual friends?
The more I thought about it the more I realized what I tremendously huge ask it is. Asking a man, whether gay or straight, married or single, for his genetic material isn’t as easy as jerking off into a cup in our back bedroom. Which is, honestly, what I thought it would look like. Now, I’m not sure.
Anyone use a known donor? What’s the experience been like?
Two Immas 