In 1978, Louise Brown was born — the first person conceived through IVF. Her story felt like science fiction. Today, more than 10 million people alive in the world were conceived the same way. The technology has become so routine that many clinics use the word ‘protocol’ with the same matter-of-fact tone as ‘blood test.’
For lesbian couples, IVF with donor sperm is the most direct path to biological parenthood. Direct — but not simple. Between the first clinic appointment and a birth, there’s a chain of decisions, each with a medical, legal, and emotional dimension. This article is a map of that chain.
Prepared donor sperm is placed directly into the uterine cavity around the time of ovulation. It’s the least invasive method: no general anaesthesia, the procedure takes a few minutes, and it can be done in a natural cycle or with mild ovarian stimulation.
Eggs are retrieved after ovarian stimulation, fertilised in the lab with donor sperm, cultured for 5–6 days to the blastocyst stage, and then transferred. More involved and more expensive than IUI — but with higher success rates.
Medically, this is standard IVF with donor eggs — except the donor is the partner rather than an anonymous third party. Legally, the situation varies: in several countries (Spain, the Netherlands, the UK), the protocol is recognised and both mothers can be named on the birth certificate under specific conditions. In others, the genetic mother’s legal status requires additional steps.
Choosing a protocol isn’t just a medical decision. For many couples, it also carries meaning: who will be the genetic mother, who will carry the baby, and how that story will be told to the child.
Sperm banks offer thousands of profiles. On the surface, it looks like a catalogue: height, weight, eye colour, education, profession, sometimes an audio recording and childhood photos. On closer inspection, it’s one of the most significant decisions you’ll make.
An anonymous donor’s identity is never disclosed — to you or to the child. In some countries (Spain), this is the only permitted model. In others, legal anonymity is guaranteed but practically vulnerable to commercial DNA tests (23andMe, AncestryDNA): children conceived with donor sperm increasingly find biological half-siblings — and, through them, the donor himself.
An open-identity (identity-release) donor is one whose identifying information the child can request upon turning 18 (or earlier, depending on country and bank). The donor isn’t obliged to respond to contact — only to be identifiable. Most banks in the UK, Netherlands, Sweden, and Denmark operate on this model.
Research consistently shows: children conceived via donor conception who were told from an early age and had access to information about the donor show better psychological wellbeing in adulthood than those who found out later or had no access to that information. This is from a Swedish longitudinal study published in 2021.
Standard clinic advice is to purchase several straws from the same donor upfront — typically three to six. The reasons: multiple attempts may be needed; if you want a second child from the same donor in a few years, that donor may no longer be donating or his samples may be gone.
Storage has an annual cost (usually €200–500), but the possibility of biological siblings from the same donor matters to many families.
Cost depends on country, clinic, and protocol. Rough figures for IVF with donor sperm in Western Europe:
- Donor sperm (one straw): €600–1,500
- Ovarian stimulation medication: €800–2,500
- Monitoring ultrasounds and blood tests: €400–900
- Egg retrieval: €1,500–3,000
- Fertilisation and embryo culture: €1,000–2,000
- PGT-A (if performed): €1,500–3,500 per batch of embryos
- Embryo transfer: €800–1,500
- Embryo cryostorage (per year): €300–700
For reciprocal IVF, add the stimulation of the second partner — approximately €2,000–4,000 on top of the base cost.
in a number of countries, some of these costs are covered by public health insurance or partially reimbursed. Spain, France, and Belgium all offer lesbian couples access to state-funded IVF — check the specific conditions in your country.
This is one of the most important conversations to have before you start, not after.
An unsuccessful embryo transfer is a medical fact — and an emotionally heavy experience. Research shows that couples who discussed a contingency plan in advance cope with a failed attempt significantly better. What ‘discussing in advance’ means in practice: how many attempts are we prepared to make? At what point do we pause and reassess the protocol, or the decision itself? How do we support each other through it?
around 40% of couples achieve a pregnancy on the first transfer (using PGT-A tested embryos). Among those who try three times, more than 70% eventually succeed. Not a guarantee — but not a lottery either.
three tries, then a break and a proper conversation. It gave us the feeling that we were running the process — not the other way around.’ — from an interview with a participant in an Australian study on the psychological experience of lesbian couples in IVF, 2022.
If the couple is married, in many European countries (Spain, Netherlands, Belgium, France, UK, Portugal, Denmark, Sweden), both partners are automatically recognised as legal mothers. If not, additional steps are required. For the details, see our article on legal parenthood in Europe.
The situation here is more nuanced. The genetic mother (whose egg was used) and the birth mother both have a biological connection to the child — just of different kinds. Legal recognition of both depends on the specific country: in Spain and the UK, it’s explicitly provided for by law when the procedure takes place at a licensed clinic. In Germany, it currently isn’t.
When sperm from a licensed bank is used, the donor is not a legal parent under any European law — and has no parental rights or obligations. This is distinct from a ‘known donor’ (a friend or acquaintance), where the legal situation is considerably more complex and requires its own formal arrangement.
The professional consensus in child psychology and reproductive medicine has shifted significantly over the past twenty years. The old guidance was to ‘wait until the child asks’ or ‘tell them at the right moment.’ The current guidance is: tell them from early childhood — before they’re old enough to remember finding out.
if a child has always known, it’s simply part of their story — not a secret, not a revelation. If they find out at twelve or at forty, it can feel like a profound disruption and a breach of trust.
children’s books about families with two mums and a donor dad exist in many languages and are a good starting point. Then, in simple age-appropriate language: ‘We really wanted you, and a kind person helped us by sharing a part of themselves.’ That’s the version for a three-year-old. At seven, more detail. In adolescence, an honest conversation about what it means to know — or not know — the donor.
This isn’t one conversation. It’s a series of conversations across a whole childhood.
A technology that began as an experimental solution to infertility has become one of the primary tools for building families in the twenty-first century — in the fullest sense of that word.