Choosing a sperm donor is arguably one of the most difficult decisions you’ll make on the path to becoming a single mom by choice (SMBC). It’s a decision that can feel enormous—full of nuance, emotion, and, at times, pressure to “get it right.” And yet, if parenthood teaches us anything early on, it’s that nurture plays such a huge role in who our children become. That reminder helped me stay grounded when I was in the thick of decision-making, unsure if I was weighing the right things.
Here’s a look at how I approached the process—what mattered to me, what surprised me, and what I hope will offer some peace of mind to others walking this path.
Narrowing the Search
The first decision I made was which sperm bank I wanted to use. That step alone helped narrow the search to about 20 available donors back in 2023. I ultimately selected a bank that aligned with my values and offered a level of transparency and support I felt good about.
From there, I began filtering by race and ethnic background. This choice was personal, but also guided by research—particularly findings from The Sperm Bank of California, which has done considerable work exploring the impact of racial and ethnic matching between donors and recipient families. Their research suggests that for some families, especially those of color, having a donor who shares their background can help ease future identity questions and support cultural continuity.
Health and Genetic Testing
Next up: health. I had some obvious non-starters due to my own family history, and I wanted to minimize the potential for inherited conditions. I also chose to do genetic testing myself (Genetic Testing and Donor Compatibility: Why It’s Worth It) to see if there were any markers I needed to be mindful of. Thankfully, there were none that significantly limited my options, but it gave me a sense of reassurance when I started reviewing medical histories.
The Deeper Questions
Once I had my narrowed list, I started reading the donor profiles more deeply. One question that stood out to me—both emotionally and ethically—was: “Why do you want to be a sperm donor?”
Many of the answers were genuinely thoughtful. Donors spoke about wanting to help people build families, especially those who couldn’t do so in traditional ways. But a few gave what I can only call “ick factor” answers—the kind that reminded me of the man in that unsettling Netflix documentary Our Father, or The Man with 1000 Kids. These were men who expressed a belief that their genes were somehow superior and should be spread far and wide. That was a hard stop for me.
Tracking the Process
I kept everything organized in a color-coded spreadsheet—red for no, yellow for maybe, and green for strong consideration. After weeding out the reds, I was left with about six potential donors. That’s when I started looking more closely at personality and physical characteristics.
One donor I was really drawn to was Korean American. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to use him because he fell within the protected ancestry group of the sperm bank—a policy designed to protect the cultural and genetic lineage of underrepresented or historically marginalized communities. Since I don’t have Korean heritage, nor would my child have a Korean parent, I couldn’t move forward with him. It was disappointing at the time, but I respected the policy.
Sitting With the Decision
Initially, I placed a high value on education, and the donor I ended up choosing was actually in my “yellow” category for that reason. But I gave myself time to sit with the decision, reread profiles, and check in with how I felt. Eventually, something about this donor kept pulling me back.
He felt like someone I’d want to be friends with—kind, self-aware, grounded. I think for some women, the goal is to choose someone who feels like a potential partner. That wasn’t what I was looking for. I didn’t need romance or attraction—I needed the right genetic collaborator to create the little people I now have the immense privilege of raising.
A Note on Privacy and Identity
I’ve intentionally kept this post vague, because my children’s story is ultimately theirs to tell. Through the identity-release program I chose, they will have the option to reach out to the donor when they turn 18. If they want to explore that part of their identity—whether by meeting the donor or their donor siblings—I’ll support them fully. Until then, I’m focused on loving them, nurturing them, and creating a home where their questions, identities, and experiences are always welcomed.
Final Thoughts
There’s no perfect formula for choosing a donor. Some people are looking for a specific look. Others prioritize education, personality, or medical history. Your filters will be your own—and that’s exactly how it should be. My hope is that by sharing my process, it might make the task feel a little more manageable, or at least less lonely.
If you’re considering becoming a single mom by choice or are in the early stages of donor selection, I’ve shared other parts of my journey below:
- Picking a Sperm Bank: Aligning with Your Values
- Choosing Between a Known Donor and an Anonymous Donor
- Trying to Conceive Checklist: A Step-by-Step Guide
You’re not alone in this, even when it feels like you are. Trust yourself—you’re already doing the hard and beautiful work of becoming the kind of parent your child will be lucky to have.
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