five people explain why they donated their gametes

The Biomedicine Agency launched an awareness campaign on sperm and egg donation on Wednesday. Out of altruism, because they themselves benefited from a donation or through activism, five donors talk about why they took the plunge.

“You don’t want to have children? Become parents. You will make people happy.” The Biomedicine Agency launched an awareness campaign on gamete (oocyte and sperm) donation on Wednesday, October 11, in order to help heterosexual couples experiencing an infertility problem, but also lesbian couples and single women, to become parents.

“Any healthy person, from 18 to 44 years old for men and 18 to 37 years old for women, can donate their gametes”, recalls the agency. But with “more than 18 million potential gamete donors in France”only 990 candidates for egg donation and 764 candidates for sperm donation came forward in 2022. Figures on the rise, but which are not enough to meet demand, “multiplied by eightsince the opening of the PMA to lesbian couples and single women in 2021, deplores the Biomedicine Agency. According to the latest available data, at the end of March, “nearly 6,200 people” were waiting for a sperm donation as part of medically assisted procreation (MAP).

Franceinfo interviewed five donors, who talked about their efforts. Here are their testimonies.

Caroline, 41 years old: “I didn’t do it to have children by proxy, but to help”

“I never wanted children, but I have the ability to have them. It’s a waste and it’s unfair to those who want them but can’t. So when I received a email from the Biomedicine Agency offering to become an egg donor, I took the plunge. I donated twice, before the law changed in 2021.

It’s been a long journey. Candidate donors undergo a battery of medical examinations: they must go to the gynecologist, carry out genetic tests and consult a psychologist before even starting the injection protocol. Then, for several days, we have daily hormone injections [pour produire un maximum d’ovocytes], followed by ultrasounds of the ovaries and blood tests to adapt the treatment. Hormone doses should be kept refrigerated and injected at specific times. It’s tedious and time-consuming. For women who give, it’s a physical commitment: I had bloating, my chest felt tight…

“I know I donated enough to allow at least two or three attempts. But doctors don’t tell you how many eggs they collected, and you don’t know whether or not your donation results in a birth.”

Caroline, egg donor

at franceinfo

Since the 2021 bioethics law, new donors must agree that their anonymity can be lifted at the request of the person born from the donation who has become an adult. I would never have agreed to give on these conditions. I didn’t do it to have children by proxy, but to help another woman. I fear unsolicited contact from people who might be born from my gifts. I don’t want them to one day be able to find me on social networks, or go see my neighbor to get information about me, thanks to the DNA tests that are being developed. I gave to help, but from the moment the gift left my body, it no longer belonged to me. It’s like when you donate blood: you don’t know what happens afterwards, and that’s very good.”

Emilie, 37 years old: “I wanted to return the favor”

“I am married to a woman. As soon as we wanted to have children, we knew that we would need a gamete donation. At the time, PMA was not open to female couples and single women in France, and we feared that it would take time to arrive. We went to Belgium, where it was possible. In 2019 then in 2022, I gave birth to our two sons, the result of fertilization by oocytes from my wife and sperm from a donor.

Without gamete donation, I would not have had a child. I wanted to return the favor, and to be able to offer the happiness I experienced to others, whether to lesbian women, single or in straight couples. I was well aware of the necessary medical course, because my wife had had egg retrievals to conceive our children. But this time, there wasn’t the same pressure, so I experienced the treatment with lightness, and not as a constraint.

I know that one day, perhaps, there will be children somewhere in France genetically descended from me, while mine are not. And I find it good that they can have access to their origins, like my sons with their donor. But I distinguish between what concerns genetics and the construction of a family. I know these people will not be my children. My son is my son, and the fact that he’s not biologically mine doesn’t change that.”

Anaïs, 22 years old: “As a black woman, giving was even more important to me”

“In 2022, I came across an Instagram post from a friend of a friend, who said she had donated her eggs and encouraged others to do so. I had already heard about gamete donation, but her testimony allowed me to demystify the process.

Waiting times can last several years for women and couples waiting for a gamete donation. But I discover that racialized people wait even longer, because racialized donors are very few in number. As I am a black woman, giving becomes even more important to me, it makes my gesture even more meaningful. I also believe that there is a particular duty of solidarity because, in the West Indies, the figure of the mother is very important: she is the ‘potomitan’ in Creole, the ‘central pole’ of the family. So infertility can be particularly experienced as a failure.

Even though the donation process is quite long and restrictive, I am happy to have done it. On the scale of my entire life, it doesn’t require much compared to the happiness that the donation brings to families.”

Mathieu, 34 years old: “The inequality of women in the face of PMA posed a real problem for me”

“I have long been a journalist on social issues. I witnessed all the delays and postponements of the bill expanding access to PMA, to the detriment of lesbian and single women. I heard testimonies from women who went abroad to conceive a child, or who, for lack of means, had to give up their maternity project. The more I saw this inequality persevere, the more it posed a real ethical and political problem for me. As a gay man, I campaigned for the opening of the PMA to all women.

In 2020, a friend, in a relationship with a woman, contacted me to find out if I was ready to donate my sperm to help her, because she knew that I had volunteered, including for a ‘artisanal donation ‘ [de personne à personne, en dehors du cadre médical et légal]. I took a screening test to make sure I didn’t have a sexually transmitted infection, and we talked a lot about what we wanted and what we didn’t. For my part, I was clear about my non-desire for children, that made me able to distance myself, to know what my place was.

“By donating my sperm, I was initiating a parenthood project, but I was not part of it.”

Mathieu, who made an “artisanal” sperm donation

at franceinfo

The three of us met again a few months later, in the town where I lived. I made several donations over a weekend, while masturbating in a jar. My friend’s partner then used a syringe to transfer it to her. It worked the first time. I simply signed a document at the notary saying that I renounced recognizing the child.

They contacted me again a few months ago, because they want to have a second baby. The opening of the PMA has not resolved the problem of waiting for gamete donations, particularly for lesbian and single women. However, they are in a form of emergency linked to their age. I agreed to donate again, but I’m not sure I would commit to anyone else again. It has to be someone close enough to be confident, without being too trusting, to be able to establish physical and emotional distance.”

Frédéric, 43 years old: “When you don’t experience infertility, you don’t realize your weight”

“My wife and I tried to have a child for years. Tests eventually showed that she had a hormonal problem, and in 2009, we entered an ART journey. Eventually, my partner became pregnant naturally after hormonal treatment, without the need for egg donation.

This ordeal made us more aware of infertility issues, and we both wanted me to donate sperm. Especially since, for men, the gift is simple. When you don’t experience infertility, you don’t realize its weight: my wife couldn’t go to a park for fear of meeting a pregnant woman. After a pregnancy announcement in our circle, we also stopped seeing this person because it was too much suffering.

In 2021, the law changed to allow people born from a donation to obtain non-identifying information about their donor (age, physical characteristics, family and professional situation, reason for donation, etc.), or even their identity. I understand the desire to know where certain physical traits come from or the motivations that resulted in donation. But I find it unfortunate that, for former anonymous donors like me, the only choice offered to us is whether or not to agree to provide non-identifying data and one’s full identity together. For former donors, the problem is often lifting anonymity. The two should be able to be dissociated.”


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