One night in September 2022, like a kid sticking my finger into the flame of a candle, I Googled “how to buy sperm”. I’d been thinking about it since splitting with a partner a year earlier. I was about to turn 37, and had started wondering if continuing on the “traditional” path – meeting someone, getting to know them well enough to decide to have children together, attempting to get pregnant – might cost me the chance to have kids.
As much as I’ve always wanted to be a mom, I never felt the desire to be pregnant; I felt wary of the physical toll of it. I’d looked into adopting, but it’s hugely cost-prohibitive (friends had been trying for two years; they’d have 48 hours notice and would pay $40,000 if selected). Fostering was also out of the question because the state of New York requires prospective parents to live in a two-bedroom home, which I don’t have.
I’d pursue these options if need be, but hoped for a less complicated path. Still, I didn’t feel pressure to choose a partner or settle. Rather, I felt lucky to live at this moment in time, when it seemed easier than ever to have a child on my own.
I just had to figure out how that actually worked. My search returned ads for California Cryobank, Seattle Sperm Bank and Fairfax Cryobank. I clicked on the links and found the “donor search” buttons.
Pictures of the donors as adorable kids showed up on my screen, along with a few search criteria. I had no idea what I was looking for, but after.