Sarah is a 35-year-old mum who wants to donate her eggs. Current guidelines say she can't.

At 35, Sarah* can hear her biological clock ticking. Loudly. She already has two young children, aged one and five. But she’s eager to take advantage of her fertility one more time. Not for her own sake, nor her family’s. For a complete stranger.

Sarah wants to become an egg donor.

"I have recently spoken to many women who have either prioritised their careers and 'missed the boat' or same-sex couples who are unable to have their dreams of having a family come true," she told Mamamia.

"I would love to make a difference."

But there’s a roadblock. 

Sarah’s husband isn’t comfortable with her donating. In his eyes, helping a stranger create a family poses a potential threat to theirs. What happens if the people conceived via Sarah’s donation reach out as adults? How do they explain it to their children, and when?

Under current guidelines, Sarah can’t donate her eggs without her husband’s consent. It’s raised a nebulous question:

'Are these my eggs, or are they ours? Do they belong to our family unit, given that donating them could potentially impact our family in years to come?'

"It’s a no-brainer. Right?"

What Sarah intends to do – donate her eggs to a clinic, without a recipient in mind – is quite unusual in Australia.

In 2020, for example, only one per cent, or 1,003, of the assisted reproduction technology treatment cycles undertaken in Australia were for the purpose of egg donation. And of those, just 91 involved eggs donated without any 'intending parents' assigned to receive them.

That’s largely because egg donation can be a months-long, physically taxing process. 

It starts with an initial consultation at an assisted reproduction clinic, followed by mandatory counselling and medical checks, and then the first two stages of an IVF cycle.

That sees the donor receive injections to stimulate their ovaries to produce more eggs. They must then undergo blood tests, ultrasounds and an egg collection procedure, which is performed in hospital under sedation.

It’s little wonder that 'known donation', such as that between friends, is by far the more common arrangement. 

Yet having stared down the barrel of infertility herself, Sarah is prepared to endure it all, even for a stranger.

In her teens, Sarah was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, a psychological disorder that involves restricted eating fuelled by distorted body image and an intense fear of gaining weight. At just 22, the disorder had taken such a toll on Sarah’s body that she had stopped menstruating and was told she may be unable to conceive.

"The gynaecologist said, 'When I look at your ovaries, they’re like those of a 60-year-old. They’re fully dormant. You don't ovulate. You don't produce oestrogen,'" she said. "I was really, really suffering."

Sarah was fortunate to be able to access therapy and support that helped her recover. And less than a decade later, her body had healed to the point that she was able to conceive without assisted reproductive technology.

"I've had two beautiful pregnancies, two unbelievably gorgeous kids and really great births. And I just always think back to that person I was when I was told I was infertile," she said. "So if I could give back to someone, if I could experience maybe six months of discomfort for their lifetime of happiness, it’s a no brainer. Right?"

Not for Sarah’s husband.

When she raised the idea of donation with him earlier this year and walked him through the details and guidelines she’d obtained from a major IVF clinic, he baulked.

One criteria proved particularly challenging for him: that in Australia, a donor-conceived person has the legal right to access identifying information about their donor once they turn 18. 

"That really put my husband off. He said, 'What about our kids? When [the donor-conceived person/people] turn 18, are we going to tell the kids, oh, here are your siblings who you never knew? It could f**k them up. Why would you do that?'

"But why does it have to be a bad thing?" Sarah said. "Who knows, maybe my kids get along with them. Maybe everyone's just okay about it."

She’s choosing to focus on the positive, on the couple or person who would get to experience the joy and love that they have through their longed-for children.

"This baby doesn't even exist yet. And it is already so wanted by hundreds of people," she said. "I was trying to explain that."

"We have to think about the donor-conceived person."

In Australia, egg donation is governed by a series of tangled laws and regulations, some of which vary from state to state.

There are different legal limits, for example, on the number of people that can have children from a single donor. In Victoria, it’s 10. In Western Australia, it’s five.

But there are key consistencies. 

The donor-conceived person’s right to identifying information is one. 

Another is that, nationwide, the donor is not the legal parent of any person conceived using their donated eggs. They are not on the birth certificate and have no legal rights or financial responsibilities to them.

Also, the donation must be altruistic. In other words, the donor cannot benefit financially from their donation. (Though the cost of the treatment cycle is usually covered by the recipient.)

These and the many other rights, responsibilities and consequences of egg donation are outlined to donors during mandatory implications counselling, which must be undertaken by the donor AND their spouse/de facto partner. 

Narelle Dickinson is a clinical psychologist and member of the board of the Fertility Society of Australia and New Zealand – the peak body representing scientists, clinicians, consumers and counsellors in reproductive medicine.

She works as a fertility counsellor in Queensland, and provides counselling to people accessing assisted reproductive services, including donors, recipients and their families.

Speaking to Mamamia, she said it’s critical all involved in the donation process are wholeheartedly on board. 

Listen to Ellidy Pullin's story on No Filter. Post continues below.

"As a counsellor, I'm trying to hold in mind all the people who are involved in a potential or actual donation. But the person who's got to be at the front of my mind is actually the potential donor-conceived person," she said.

"We have to think about what it would be like for a donor-conceived person to discover that there was dissent within the family of the donor, and what that might mean longer term in terms of the contact or the nature of the relationship. We certainly don't want to be creating any complexities for the donor-conceived person at some point down the track."

The same goes for the donor family themselves, of course.

"If there is that really broad dissent within the couple about whether or not the donation should have occurred, that can fester," Narelle said.

Sarah is concerned about that possibility. While her husband has told her he won’t "get in her way" if she really wants to proceed, as it stands, his agreement would be reluctant.

"He's very respectful of the things I want to do, and vice versa," she said. "But I don't want it to cause resentment. I don't want him to be like, 'You did this, and it’s come back to haunt us.'"

For couples who are at odds on donation, Narelle says communication is key.

"Have a conversation. Don't be defensive about it. His concerns are valid and reasonable. And he is probably having thoughts which are intended to be protective of his partner and his children and himself. He might be worried about what the long-term rights of a donor-conceived person are," she said.

That’s were the mandatory counselling comes in.

"A fertility counsellor will guide you through those sorts of questions and worries," Narelle said. "I've seen that hundreds of times over the years, where either potential donors or potential parents have walked through the door with some really, really big fears. But with a little bit of information and genuine, open discussion, they often end up in a really different place."

Sarah’s husband has agreed to further discussion and to undergo counselling. While she doesn’t want to force him into something that makes him uncomfortable, to her donation feels truly important – and urgent. You can hear it in her voice.

"Once you’re in a partnership, you become one. You become a unit. And there's certain things you both have to agree on... So I'm not going to push him. I'm going to be respectful of his decisions and see where it takes us," she said.

"But I really, really want to do this. And time is ticking."

* The interviewee in this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons.

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