When Colorado lawmakers decided to remove anonymity for sperm and egg donors, it sounded like a bold move on behalf of donor-conceived children.
After all, proponents argue, don't those children deserve to know exactly where they came from?
The law states that donor-conceived children should have access to personal and family medical history of the donor, and at age 18, can get identifying information about the donor.
Knowing your risk for certain diseases can be an asset. But we live in a time when direct-to-consumer DNA tests already allow many people to find out if they're genetically predisposed to conditions like certain cancers or neurological diseases. And people can already get identifying information before they turn 18.
The fact is, anonymity in donor conception has been on shaky ground for a while. Anyone curious about their genetic roots can easily register with 23andMe, AncestryDNA, or a host of other companies and potentially unearth exactly who donated the sperm or egg that helped create them. Anonymity is just a myth. This technology already exists and is used by people every day for adoption searches, genealogical deep-dives, or plain curiosity. Colorado's legislation now mandates something that, in practice, was already happening—the unmasking of donors.
Only about 2 percent of children are born via in vitro fertilization (IVF), and only about 0.2 percent may be born from donor conception. In truth, it's difficult to assess the number of children born through sperm donation. (Egg and embryo donation must be done through an IVF clinic, so it is easier to track.)
"For more than a quarter century, '30,000 to 60,000 annual births' from donated sperm has been the figure used in the literature, but this estimate is suspect," says a 2017 study in Fertility and Sterility. "A direct and recent number may be hard to come by due to the lack of mandated record keeping regarding donated gametes in the United States."
The "lack of mandated record keeping" and other failures are what legislators should be focusing on—not just in donor conception but in the entire IVF industry. There is a general lack of oversight in the billion-dollar fertility industry. While professional bodies like the American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM) issue guidelines, these guidelines aren't binding.
In my reporting, I've encountered multiple stories that highlight these vulnerabilities. There have been accidental embryo mix-ups, leading to families giving birth to each other's children. There have been embryos lost due to faulty embryo culture, and storage failure, embryos accidentally destroyed, or even physically lost in transport.
This is not even counting the eggs and embryos lost due to human error during the IVF process—a process that has no real federal regulation.
None of these problems are solved by Colorado's new measure. These are the stories that keep recurring and the genuine fears that parents—both donor-conceived individuals and recipients—wrestle with.
Colorado's effort may be well-intended, but it seems like a legislative spotlight focused on the wrong target. In a world where genetics are more traceable than ever, anonymity is already less certain than we pretend. What truly matters is making the fertility industry safer and more transparent: More oversight, stricter reporting requirements, and real accountability measures—these reforms would benefit every party involved in the complicated, emotional, and often life-changing process of IVF.
By directing our attention to the industry's genuine shortcomings rather than a largely symbolic ban on anonymity, we can work toward a system that is fair, ethical, and rooted in best practices. And that, ultimately, is the real victory donor-conceived individuals, recipients, and donors alike are waiting for.
Amy Klein is the author of The Trying Game: Get Through Fertility Treatment Without Losing Your Mind.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
English (US) ·