My wife Jess and I have pseudo-triplet toddlers. We both wanted to conceive around the same time for pseudo twins. But joke’s on us – I conceived actual twins, giving us three babies due 10 days apart.

We have three babies, and our babies also have three parents. 

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We coparent the triplets with their biological dad, Trow. 

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Even among queer families, who are accustomed to forging their own paths, three parents may seem unusual. How did we decide to create such an arrangement?

In short, a bunch of strangers on Facebook convinced us to.

My wife and I both wanted to experience pregnancy and to share a donor. We decided on what didn’t matter to us (similar looks) and what did (health, being a known donor).

Although becoming more common, being a known donor is still not standard. In fact, many gamete clinics in the U. S. mandate anonymous donations, or at best, open ID at 18 years old (which still bears similarities to anonymity, as a child’s most formative years are before 18).

Gamete donation started as almost exclusively anonymous. Many families would hide their child’s donor conception. Before the advent of accessible DNA tests, a donor-conceived person (DCP) may not discover their genetic heritage for decades, if ever.

But now, DNA tests all but guarantee a child will discover their genetic heritage at some point, and lying to one’s child about important subjects, especially ones that concern them, is rarely recommended by childhood professionals. 

I wanted honesty with my future children about their genetic heritage, so a known donor (open to meeting the kids and answering future questions) felt intuitively best. 

But then my wife and I heard about the Facebook group, “Donor Conceived Best Practices and Connections,” a group that centers the voices of DCP and advocates for their human rights.

We joined it to learn more about what DCP were saying they wished their parents would or wouldn’t have done – and our minds were blown. 

Many DCP spoke about not having access to one or both of their genetic parents, and they were overwhelmingly opposed. DCP adamantly asserted that, no matter how messy or scary to their legal parents, it’s a human rights issue to guarantee full access to a person’s genetic heritage. 

“Early and often” is cited by DCP as the best way to tell your child they are donor-conceived.

Essentially, you never have a big reveal to your kiddo, because you tell them from the start about their journey and their genetic parent(s) as well as their legal parents.

I learned about genetic mirroring (seeing yourself in your family due to shared DNA), serial donation (a donor who donates to too many people), and genealogical bewilderment (a child experiencing distress over a lack of genetic information).

Jess and I already wanted a known donor, so this didn’t severely shake our plans (although it ruled out most clinics). But it did introduce legal and emotional concerns.

Gamete donation is not well-regulated in the U.S.  Legally, it’s simplest to do anonymous clinic donations. This rules out messy situations (rare but sensationalized) of at-home or private donors deciding to sue for partial custody of the child. 

Obviously, this is a nightmare. What parent wants to worry about losing their child?

Emotionally, I learned some parents worry their child could bond more to their genetic parent; that telling the child about a donor could impact the bond; and that the child developing a relationship with their donor could cause the parent to bond less with their child.

As I reflected on these worries, I realized these were all based on fears (albeit valid fears), and I wanted to parent out of abundance, making sure to center my child’s well-being as more important than mine.

So, what would be best for my child, even if it’s sticky for me?

Obviously, it’s not best for them to be taken away from me, so I am not advocating to ignore the legalities. However, any conception of a child can involve parents splitting up and new partners being blended in.

No family is guaranteed to have a traditional two-parent family forever; actually, a majority of American families (queer and straight) now have parenting arrangements outside the nuclear family.

With a known donor, there are multiple ways to protect our families, which include: 

-Using a donor contract written by a lawyer experienced in reproductive law in your state. This defines rights and responsibilities. We have an extensive contract with Trow. 

-Using A therapist experienced in queer families and reproductive technology to facilitate important questions and communication. We all did multiple therapy sessions.

-Centering the child’s perspective. When addressing the role of donor(s) vs parent(s), centering the child ensures us grown-ups are addressing our own concerns and values, while keeping the child’s best interests foremost. 

Jess and I had many conversations before choosing Trow, being gentle with our own fears and ethics, but putting our future children first.

Jess and I both wanted to carry. I wasn’t worried about bonding less to my non-bio kid. I felt fully capable of loving someone regardless of DNA. 

But what if the bio dad did, at some point, have a stronger bond with the kid(s)? What if knowing their bio dad “early and often,” as DCP touted, caused issues? 

I reflected on my queer values of chosen family. Xommunity living is how our species has raised children for millennia, and nuclear families are a modern, isolating blip.

As long as I chose their donor well, a child having more people to love them seemed only good for them.

Yes, even if my child goes through a future phase where they prefer the donor more.

Many teenagers go through a rebellious, reject-the-parent(s) phase. 

I already knew we wouldn’t move forward with a donor unless it was a man we could tell our children, “This is your bio dad, and we think he’s incredible.” 

Wouldn’t I want my child to have more adults who could be a stable force for them if they were having a hard time with me? 

An aunt, a family friend, or – yes – a bio dad?

Some DCP don’t end up caring much about their DNA. Some DCP do care about their genetic heritage, and if they aren’t able to answer their questions, they experience confusion or trauma.  

What all DCP said was that they wanted it to be their choice. They wanted their lives normalized. They wanted their parents to tell them their genetic story from the start, rather than making it an eventual big reveal that left them feeling like their story was abnormal and their parents might always be hiding something.

Whether they wanted to just chat with their donor on occasion or to have close access to them, DCP wanted a say.

Ultimately, I concluded for myself that if I couldn’t overcome my own fears and put my children’s needs first, I shouldn’t be having children. 

And I found myself excited at welcoming more community into my children’s lives by choosing a known donor who (at the least) was excited to spend occasional time with them and be open to future questions. 

How did our journey end? 

Wildly!

Jess’s longtime friend, Trow, had always wanted kids. When he switched careers, he chose a job in Detroit, in no small part to support Jess and me as we started our family. 

He did this without ulterior motive; we had actually already picked out a donor. His choice touched Jess and me deeply, and when we asked if he’d be interested in being a donor as well as a supportive friend, his answer was a resounding yes.

He was excited to be as involved as we wanted, and after many months of chats and a trial living together, we purchased a home and became a three-parent family to our triplets. 

The situation works so well.

Trow’s job mandates out-of-state travel, sometimes with only 2 hours’ notice, which was a large factor in why he hadn’t pursued having a kid as a single parent.

So Jess and I having flexible schedules that allow us to smoothly take over all his childcare and house responsibilities at the drop of a hat has worked incredibly well for his career opportunities.

Jess and I both struggled with postpartum depression after birth, exacerbated by sleep deprivation from chronically ill triplets with sleep disturbances.

Having a third parent who was both healthy and happy to fully care for the babies when he was home was so helpful in our postpartum recovery. And Trow’s roughhousing, risk-tolerant play brings a beautiful balance to my nurturing but more cautious caregiving style. 

Regarding the legal aspect, we have legal documentation and coparenting contracts drawn up to protect everyone’s rights and keep the kids safe. These can vary between states, so definitely worth checking with a reproductive lawyer on your state’s requirements. 

You can follow our journey on social media @motownmultiples. I love to hear from other queer families!

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