My Brother-in-Law Was My Sperm Donor

Illustration by Jacques & Lise

Man meets woman. Baby comes next. It's just that simple. Or is it? This week, Yahoo Parenting is running a series about the unique way families are formed. From a surprise adoption right before retirement, to a brother-in-law's generous gift, to an HIV+ positive father who had his sperm "washed," read on for inspiring parenthood stories.

My wife Laura* and I made a special present for our 6-year-old daughter recently: a book about her origins, packed with photos illustrating how much she was wanted and adored long before the day she was born. “To make a baby, they needed a seed from a man,” we wrote about ourselves, a pair of happy moms-to-be. “So they asked Uncle David to be their donor. And he said yes!” Then came the photos of me pregnant, and our daughter freshly born, plus many more of her swaddled, held, and carted around the world on our backs.

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The idea of asking Laura’s brother to be our donor was mine, as no other setup seemed more ideal: He’s intelligent, creative, funny, handsome, and a great dad. He’s also incredibly supportive of our relationship, as is his cool wife, Maura; years ago, in fact, they put off getting married, in protest, until same-sex marriage became legal in the state where they live.

When we asked David and Maura if they would consider donating his sperm, they were immediately on board. It was amazingly selfless, and I was surprised at how easily they seemed to roll with the idea. And so, after talking through everyone’s emotional fears and expectations, and going through some medical and legal prep work — such as David getting tested for STDs and certain genetic markers, and all of us signing off on a legal agreement that alleviated him of all paternal rights and responsibilities — we dove in. That meant me monitoring my ovulation cycle, calling them with the heads up that we were on our way to their house (about a three-hour drive away), and showing up for a monthly donation visit. Our routine went on like this for several months: Laura and I would show up at their house and watch their toddler while the two parents would scurry up to the their bedroom and get down to private business. Then my sister-in-law would proudly reappear with a Softcup — the bendable diaphragm-like plastic cup that some women use for menstruation — filled with her husband’s fresh semen.

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This exchange was always a bit awkward and weird and embarrassing. But it was also beautiful and basic and intense and truly the most generous, selfless gift I’d ever been presented with in my entire life. “Thank you,” I’d say, giggling. “Of course,” she’d say, giggling back before slipping away.

Illustration by Jacques & Lise

Then I’d insert the little purple disc, pushing it high up to my cervix, and lay back onto the bed in their guest room, keeping my feet elevated for as long as I could in an attempt to help gravity along. My love and I would lie there together talking, laughing, and hoping, hoping, hoping.

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I’ve always wanted to be a mom, ever since I was a young girl. I also always wanted to get pregnant and give birth — those were important parts of the process to me. When I came out in college this desire never shifted, and I never, for some stubborn, unknown reason, thought that it had to. I didn’t know at the time how having a baby would happen, but I understood on a very deep level that it would.

Still, our sweet, DIY at-home method never actually worked (although the intimate days and nights we all spent together while making our attempts have become wonderful, irreplaceable memories). Instead we got a local midwife involved in our plan, racing over to her office during off-hours with a small jar of fresh sperm tucked under my armpit for warmth (her suggestion) as we made the 5-minute ride. When we got there, she “washed” the donation in a centrifuge — spinning the healthiest sperm apart from the fluid — before performing IUI, which meant she placed it directly into my uterus. And that’s when it finally worked.

When the pee stick confirmed it a few weeks later I was traveling for work, and after first calling my wife with the news of my pregnancy, I placed my second call: to David, who cried tears of joy.

STORY: 'At 41, If I Wanted to Have a Kid, I Was Going to Have to Go it Alone'

Sometimes, when he held her in his arms as a baby at family gatherings, I would forget. To me, to us, to the world, he’s her uncle. But then I’d remember, and I’d feel a rush of incredibly mixed emotions, and stare with wonder between their two sets of eyes, which are remarkably similar in color. I’d feel so paralyzed by gratefulness that I’d be embarrassed to have accepted a gift so great — I’d feel greedy, ashamed in some way for having even asked in the first place. He’s the one who allowed me to experience pregnancy, after all, and my wife — his sister — to see her very own gene pool reflected in our precious daughter. But then I’d look at him or hug him or say thank you, and he’d look so proud and happy and pleased, and it’s always made it seem more than okay.

Laura told me recently that she knows she would have loved any child of ours — whether from anonymous sperm or adopted — but that her brother’s gift has brought her surprising joy. “I feel thrilled about it now,” she said. “I love that she looks like my family. I would love her the same way if she was not related to me, but this is the icing on the cake.”

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As for our daughter, our plan is and always has been to present her origins as normal. We’ve recently begun telling her how she began, in the most basic of terms, letting her know that Uncle David is her donor. I’m slightly nervous about how she’ll react when she realizes what it all means — both the biological reality and her place in the world at large — but I’m confident it will eventually be okay, because of how loved she is, and of how open her mind is already. For now, I think she’s simply proud to have a story that’s all her own.

*All names in this story (including that of the author) have been changed

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