What No One Tells Same-Sex Couples About Fertility: One Family's Journey Through Sperm Donors, Failed Rounds, and a Diagnosis

Bianca and Kim didn't have a roadmap when they started researching same-sex conception. She didn't know any lesbian couples who had gone through it. She knew they needed sperm. That was about the extent of it.

So she did what everyone does: she Googled everything. Opened a million tabs. Tried to figure out where to even begin.

Then came the first OB appointment and the doctor who opened with an IVF quote before asking a single question. Kim left crying.

What happened next took a year and a half. And it led her here: to the PRIDE Family Village, which she's now building so no one else has to start from scratch.

Starting the Research (When You Have No Reference Point)

When Bianca and Kim began, they didn't know any same-sex couples who had gone the path of biological children. The options felt overwhelming and undefined. They knew they had a uterus and eggs available — they just needed sperm. But how? Which route? Which doctor? Which bank?

Kim’s approach: find an OB who could guide them. That first appointment was a lesson in what not to expect from a provider who hadn't worked with a lesbian couple before. The experience was "very defeating." But a college friend who was navigating the same thing pointed them toward another path — one that didn't begin with a $30,000 price tag.

The lesson: Finding the right provider is not guaranteed. It requires asking, researching, and sometimes leaving the first (or second) appointment knowing it's not the right fit.

Who Carries? Who Researches? Designing Your Team

One of the first decisions same-sex couples face is one that heterosexual couples don't: who carries? For Bianca and Kim, the answer came naturally. Bianca would carry, Kim would handle the research. (Their words: Kim is the baker. Bianca is the oven.)

That division of labor mattered. Kim navigated the cryobank, the donor selection process, the insemination timing, the alternative protocols. Bianca showed up and was poked and prodded. Both roles were essential.

Before any of this, though, came a more foundational set of conversations: How long are you willing to try? What happens if we don't succeed at home? What are your feelings about known donors? About adoption? About IVF?

"That first OB appointment was more challenging because we were looking to the OB to guide us when we hadn't even had all those conversations ourselves," Bianca says now. "Start with the conversations. Before you step into any doctor's office."

The Known Donor Experiment — and Why They Returned to the Bank

They tried a sperm bank first. Then, after several unsuccessful rounds, they considered a known donor — someone vetted through an app called Just a Baby. The appeal: live sperm, longer lifespan, a bigger window for timing.

The reality: coordinating timing with a real person across a busy life is harder than it sounds. After two rounds, it still hadn't worked.

More than logistics, there was a deeper discomfort. Kim describes it directly: the fear that a known donor's family might eventually want involvement. "We were the ones wanting to be parents, and we were kind of opening the door for a complete stranger and their entire family."

They went back to the cryobank. And this time, the profile book had expanded to include current adult photos of donors. One look confirmed they had made the right call by switching. (Their words: "I thought I was going to get Jason Momoa. It was not.")

When Nothing Is Working And You're Told You Look Fine

This is the section that matters most to anyone who has been in this place.

Round after round of insemination. Each appointment showing a thick, receptive uterine lining — "you look good, you look good, you look good." Clomid and its mood effects (Bianca went off on a UPS driver). Timing that was technically correct. And still: nothing.

The emotional cadence they developed: give themselves the day to feel it. Mourn if needed. Then the next morning, back to the drawing board. "The goal was still the same. To have a kid."

What no test had caught, because no one had thought to look: Bianca’s entire uterus was covered in polyps. Even a successfully fertilized egg would have had nowhere to attach. The lining they were praising as healthy was, in fact, obstructed.

"This is the most impressive amount of polyps I've ever seen," the doctor told them.

Two weeks after the surgery, they tried again. It worked.

The Pregnancy Nobody Planned For (Pandemic Edition)

Their daughter was born in July 2020, during COVID-19 shelter-in-place in California. The all-star support team they'd assembled — OB, acupuncturist, chiropractor, and more — joined them via a virtual baby shower.

"As we were getting bored in the pandemic, she came along and entertained us. And hasn't stopped."

It was hard. The timing was objectively not ideal. And yet, as Bianca puts it: the timing was perfect. Everything that went wrong led to this exact moment.

A Question That Stuck

During the mandatory psychological evaluation required to purchase sperm from a cryobank, one question landed differently than the rest.

Bianca found herself thinking: Do straight couples who use egg or sperm donors have to do this?

She doesn't say it with anger. But it's a real question about the additional hoops that same-sex couples quietly navigate — the extra steps, the forms that weren't designed for their family, the appointments where they are, subtly or overtly, the exception rather than the norm.

Building the Community They Wish They'd Had

When asked what it would have meant to walk into a room full of people who understood their situation at the very beginning, Bianca’s answer is immediate: "So much easier. Less stressful. It would have calmed our nervous systems."

Instead, there were many car rides to work, crying.

That's why Kim is now building the PRIDE Family Village at Adrouny Village Wellness. Not as a program or a service. As a community.

"Out of the desire to have more community for myself, and knowing how beneficial it is for mental well-being and for our kids — I am building the Pride Family Village. Whether you already have kids, want children, or maybe don't want children but want community, a family can be two people, three people, adults — whatever that looks like for you."

The Village will host regular meetups and events for adults and children, expert-led workshops, and designated community spaces online and off. It is free to join.

The Pride Family Village kicks off this June with a community walk at Campbell Park on June 13 — trail walk, playground social time, dogs and strollers welcome. Come ready to mingle and wear rainbow.

What to Do If You're Starting Your Same-Sex Family Planning Journey

Kim’s advice, distilled from lived experience:

Have the conversations first. Who carries (if applicable)? How long are you willing to try? What's your threshold before changing course? What are your feelings about known vs. anonymous donors?

Find a provider who is genuinely invested in helping families like yours — not just technically competent, but actually in it with you.

Build your support team. An OB is not enough. Acupuncture, chiropractic care, mental health support, community — it all matters.

Find families that look like yours. "Stalk them in your neighborhood," Bianca says light heartedly to the friend she so-called stalked. "Make sure they become your lifelong friends."

And if you don't have those neighbors yet?

That's exactly what the PRIDE Family Village is for.

👉 Join at thevillagesanjose.com/san-jose-lgbtq-pride-family-community

📍 Adrouny Village Wellness | 2998 S. Bascom Ave, San Jose, CA 95124