“So, how many kids do you hope to have?”

Ryan and I both paused to looked at each other…

Here’s the thing about that question: neither of us has ever actually had a kid. We don’t know what it’s like to be exhausted at 3am with a newborn, or what it feels like when your baby finally calls you Dad for the first time, or how having one kid might change what feels right for the next one. Most people get to find that out as they go. But we have to map out our entire family before experiencing any of it.

Ryan as a kid

We talked it through right there in the room. We both felt certain about wanting two kids. But we also found ourselves hoping for the option to have up to four, if things go well. Are we crazy?? Maybe…

Well anyway, Dr. Conway nodded, made a note, and then casually dropped a number that made me sit up a little.

“To have a real shot at four, you’re going to need somewhere around 25 to 30 eggs.”

I’m sorry. THIRTY?

That number made more sense once we understood how IVF actually works.

There’s drop-off at each step, which is why we need a strong number of eggs from the start if we want a real shot at multiple healthy embryos.

What I Expected vs. What Actually Mattered First

When people picture searching for an egg donor, they usually picture looks, personality, background. What will she be like? Will she feel like a fit?

Those questions matter. But but before we get to the fun part, there are less glamorous considerations that have to come first…

We want to use the same donor for all of our kids so they’re biological siblings, so the first thing we actually have to consider is ovarian reserve. If you read my previous post about egg donation you already know that AMH and AFC are the two indicators that matter most. Dr. Conway told us we should look for a donor with an AFC of about 25 and an AMH around 3.5 or higher.

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Of course, if we fall in love with a donor whose reserve is lower than we’d hoped, a second round is always an option. But that means asking her to go through weeks of injections and another procedure all over again, and it means we’d have to take on the financial cost of two full cycles instead of one.

Something That Surprised Me: We’re Leaning Toward Someone Who’s Done This Before

Going in, I assumed we’d want a first-time donor, but that instinct soon shifted. A donor who has already gone through a retrieval gives the clinic real information about how her body responded to medication, how many eggs she produced, how healthy those eggs were, and how she handled it physically and emotionally. With a first-time donor, every one of those is still a question mark.

Proven donors also tend to set higher compensation rates, and at first that gave us pause. But the more we thought about it, the more we realized it’s a cost we’re genuinely willing to take on. There is already so much uncertainty built into this entire process. If a proven donor can remove even a little of it, that feels worth paying for.

Me as a kid

Interesting side note: I had originally assumed agencies were setting compensation based on a donor’s genetics or background, and that felt strange to me, like they were putting a price tag on a person’s worth. But it turns out, donors aren’t compensated for their eggs. They’re compensated for everything the retrieval process puts them through, and they set their own rates. In practice, that’s meant seeing figures anywhere from around $5,000 to upward of $50,000. A donor decides what would make the process worth it to her, which is part of why donors who are especially in demand or have a strong track record tend to set higher compensation rates for themselves.

Next Up: Health History

Once ovarian reserve is accounted for, the next thing we’ll look through is personal and family medical history. Things like history of cancer, heart disease, mental illness, and genetic conditions across multiple generations. Clinics screen for a lot of this already, but we’re also looking for patterns ourselves, because we want to give our kids the healthiest possible start and feel confident in that decision for years to come.

The Part I Get Most Excited About

And now for the fun stuff!

We want our kids to look at us and feel like they fully belong, to see themselves in our faces the same way we see ourselves in our own parents. Ryan and I both have curly hair and green eyes, so I’ll admit I already get a little giddy every time I see a profile photo with a matching head of curls. Beyond that, I’m tall with brown hair and I’ve got more moles than I can count. Ryan is blonde and burns easily and has a wide smile. Small things, but we’re keeping an eye out for a donor whose overall phenotype, coloring, build, those small physical details, could believably blend into our family photos one day.

We’re also paying attention to personality and interests, hoping for someone academically inclined, maybe musical or artistic, ideally extroverted and a little adventurous, because that’s so deeply who we are as a couple. I have Scandinavian roots, Ryan has Greek, so a similar ethnic background would be a meaningful bonus if we find it.

There’s one more thing on our list that matters to us for the same reason.

I remember sitting in a high school biology class doing one of those finger-prick blood tests and finding out I share the exact same blood type as my mom. It was such a small detail, but it made me feel tied to her in this specific, almost secret way. We’re hoping to find a donor who matches our blood type, because we want that same quiet, tangible connection for our kids.

Let the Search Begin!

So that’s the picture. Strong ovarian reserve, ideally a proven donor, solid health history, and if we’re lucky, curly hair, green eyes, and a personality that feels like it was made for our family.

This is the moment everything stops being theoretical. We’re not just talking about having kids anymore. We’re actively looking for the amazing woman who’s going to help make it happen!

Make sure to subscribe, because next time, I’ll take you inside what it’s actually been like scrolling through donor profiles, what a clinic database shows you versus what an agency shows you, what’s surprised us, and what it felt like the first time a profile actually stopped us in our tracks.

Catch you soon!

But as you can probably imagine, others have been critical. I don’t want to focus on the negative, but I do want to address an interesting pattern I’ve noticed…

It’s definitely strange and uncomfortable to have strangers weighing in on something this personal. Still, there was something else about many of the comments that felt off to me, and it took me a while to put my finger on what it was.

Many of the objections being raised have been rooted in religious beliefs or personal moral convictions, but have been presented as ethical arguments.

I understand that questions about family, reproduction, faith, and parenthood touch on some of the deepest values we have. When something feels profoundly right or profoundly wrong to us, it’s natural to reach for the strongest language available to explain why.

But today I want to gently explore something I’ve been thinking about. Not the beliefs themselves—those are real, and they matter to the people who hold them. But the difference between religious beliefs, moral convictions, and ethical concerns, and why that distinction shapes the conversations I’m willing to engage with.

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Similar, But Different

A religious belief is a conviction rooted in faith. It comes from things like scripture, spiritual experience, religious teachings, and prayer. It answers questions like What does God want for me?or What do the scriptures teach?

A moral conviction is a person’s sense of right and wrong. It can be shaped by faith, but also by culture, upbringing, life experience, conscience, and personal values. It answers questions like Is this right? Is this wrong? and Does this align with my values?

Ethics are a different category entirely. Ethics are concerned with how people are treated. They ask questions like:

• Is there informed consent?

• Is there coercion?

• Does the person have autonomy?

• Are there protections in place?

• Is harm being minimized?

• Is the person being treated with dignity?

• Are all parties fully aware of what they are participating in?

These are not the same questions as “Does this align with my religion?” or “Does this sit right with my conscience?” A process can conflict with someone’s religious beliefs or moral convictions and still be ethical. And a process can align perfectly with someone’s beliefs or values while raising serious ethical concerns.

That’s why I think it’s important to keep these categories separate. Religious beliefs matter. Moral convictions matter. But they are different from ethical questions.

Where I’ll Be Spending My Energy

I also want to be honest about something: I’m not going to spend time engaging with religious or moral objections to the decisions my husband and I make about our family. What my personal faith requires of me, what my conscience tells me, and what I believe my Creator thinks about my specific life and circumstances are not things I’m willing to crowdsource from strangers on the internet.

These are deeply personal questions. They’re questions I discuss with people I trust, with family members, with friends, and in prayer.

I’m sharing this journey because it’s a meaningful and exciting season of our lives, not because I’m looking for public commentary on whether my family meets someone else’s moral or religious standards.

What I am willing to engage with—and what I actually care deeply about—are ethical questions. Informed consent. Respecting women. Protecting vulnerable people. Ensuring everyone involved has full information, full autonomy, and full protection.

Those are things we can discuss!

Perhaps a more accurate DM would look something like this:

Admittedly, that’s not the sort of message that tends to go viral…

But one can dream, right?

What’s Ahead

Over the next few posts, I’m going to take you inside this process in a way I haven’t yet.

What we’re actually looking for in an egg donor—and why. What it was like to sit down and start looking through profiles for the first time. What I’ve learned about the ethics of egg donation, and where I’ve found myself wrestling with difficult questions along the way.

Ryan and I are in the middle of a season of life we’ve hoped for and prayed about for a very long time. It’s complicated. It’s emotional. And it’s exciting!!

I’m looking forward to sharing more of it with you.

After our first appointment with the fertility clinic, my husband and I were both sent off with next steps:

1. Bloodwork for genetic testing.

2. A full fertility analysis. (You know… the room. The cup. Yeah. We’ll circle back to that later.)

But while I was reading through everything the fertility analysis involves, I came across a list of the most common causes of male infertility.

And my stomach DROPPED.

Because a few years ago, there was… an incident. A very specific, very embarrassing incident that I have never told anyone. And apparently that exact incident is on the list.

So now I’m trying not to spiral.

Which means today you get the story of the freak cheerleading accident that may or may not have made me infertile.

#sorrynotsorry for the paywall, but there is absolutely no way I’m telling this story for free. Partially because it is mortifying. And partially because we need to pay for this baby somehow… lol

Okay. Gulp. Enjoy…

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It’s Happening!

We have our first IVF consultation coming up soon, and because this process is so layered and complicated, I’ve spent the last few weeks doing research and putting together a giant list of questions for our doctor 😅

There are so many decisions that affect timelines, success rates, finances, embryo planning, future family planning, donor selection, genetic testing, surrogacy logistics, and honestly… it’s a lot of pressure and we really want to have eyes-wide-open.

I’m eventually going to do a full post explaining what this entire process actually looks like from start to finish because there are SO many moving parts behind the scenes. So full disclosure, some of this might be confusing.

But for now, here are some of the questions we’re walking into our consultation with:

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Overall Strategy & Timeline

• Based on our family goals, what overall strategy would you recommend for us?

• What does the full process realistically look like from start to finish?

• What timeline should we expect for each stage?

• What steps can happen simultaneously vs sequentially?

• What delays happen most often?

Embryo & Family Planning

• Roughly how many eggs/embryos do you typically recommend based on different family size goals?

• Should we create all embryos upfront before transfers begin?

• How many euploid embryos do you typically recommend per desired child?

• What are realistic fertilization, blastocyst, and transfer success rates?

Sperm Questions

• Should WE bank sperm beforehand or use fresh samples during fertilization?

• Are outcomes meaningfully different with fresh vs frozen sperm?

• Does finasteride affect sperm quality or DNA fragmentation?

• Is there an ideal abstinence window before collection?

• Are there things you recommend avoiding beforehand to optimize sperm quality?

Egg Donor Questions

• Do you generally recommend fresh donor eggs or frozen eggs?

• What thaw survival rates are realistic?

• What should intended parents actually look for in an egg donor medically?

• What donor age range tends to produce the best outcomes?

• Do you prefer proven donors or first-time donors?

• What are the pros and cons of in-house donor programs vs outside agencies?

Genetics & Testing

• Should carrier screening happen before selecting a donor?

• If carrier screening is clean, do you still recommend PGT-A?

• Does PGT-A reduce miscarriage risk or mainly reduce failed transfers?

• How do you handle mosaic embryos?

Gestational Carrier Questions

• At what point should intended parents begin matching with a gestational carrier?

• What are the legal and psychological requirements before transfer?

• What delays happen most often with surrogacy timelines?

• What are realistic transfer success rates with a gestational carrier?

Financial Questions

• What costs tend to surprise intended parents most?

• What decisions have the biggest financial impact long-term?

• Where do people commonly overspend unnecessarily?

• If people are trying to maximize success while still being financially smart, what matters most?

Questions Specifically About Gay Couples

• Are you used to working with gay intended parents?

• Are there unique considerations you think gay couples should understand early?

• What mistakes do intended parents in our situation most commonly make?

I’ll Keep You Updated!

Honestly, as overwhelming as parts of this process can feel, I’ve genuinely loved learning about all of it. The more we learn, the more real it starts to feel!

We’re really excited for this appointment and hoping this clinic and doctor feel like a good fit for us moving forward.

If you’re just joining — welcome! This is Part 2 of a post I’ve been writing about a question I needed answered before my husband and I moved forward with having children.

I’m a gay member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on an unconventional path, trying to walk it as faithfully as I can given the circumstances, which has often meant taking the hard questions directly to God. So I did something that probably sounds intense to most people (but honestly, pretty normal if you grew up Mormon) — I read the entire Standard Works (the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price) — through the lens of a simple question:

“God, is it okay for us to have children?”

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It’s a question I know well. I’ve spent most of my life navigating the tension between earnestly wanting to do the right thing and being someone whose life doesn’t fit the mold of what the right thing is supposed to look like.

I grew up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, where family wasn’t just important, it was everything. Woven into every lesson, every talk, every conversation about what a meaningful life looked like. There was always a plan: you grow up, you get married in the temple as husband and wife, and you have children in a family that will last forever…

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Medical stuff makes me queasy. Organs, systems, processes — amazing, love them, but I don’t want to see it and I don’t want to know.

I *literally* passed out in the A&P lab in college.

And the female reproductive system specifically? As an incredibly gay man, believe me when I say my interest level has historically been zero.

Hard pass!

And then we decided to have a baby.

Suddenly I wanted to know everything. And the more I learned, the more fascinating it became. So today I’m sharing what I’ve learned about the egg donation process — what to look for medically in a donor, what the science actually means, and why any of it matters.

Let’s start at the very beginning: eggs are not infinite.

Women are born with all the eggs they will ever have, and the supply declines steadily over time. Not just through ovulation, but through a natural process called atresia, where follicles die off without ever maturing. Of the hundreds of thousands of eggs present at birth, only around 300 to 400 will ever actually ovulate. The rest are quietly lost along the way, until eventually — menopause.

Ovarian reserve: the most important thing I learned

Because eggs are finite, doctors have ways of measuring how many a woman has left and how well her ovaries are likely to respond when stimulated. This is called ovarian reserve. It turns out that when you’re searching for an egg donor, ovarian reserve is the single most important thing to understand, because it tells you what you can realistically expect from a cycle.

There are two key measurements that together paint the picture: AMH and AFC.

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AMH: the hormone that estimates the pool

AMH stands for Anti-Müllerian Hormone. It’s produced by the small follicles in the ovaries, and a blood test measures how much of it is circulating in the body. The higher the AMH, the more active follicles there are, and the more eggs are likely to develop when the ovaries are stimulated. Think of it as a measure of how responsive the ovaries are likely to be.

Here’s what the numbers mean:

• Below 1.0 ng/mL — very low ovarian reserve

• 1.0 to 1.9 ng/mL — low-normal, may have a modest response to stimulation

• 2.0 to 3.9 ng/mL — normal range for a healthy, fertile woman

• 4.0 to 6.8 ng/mL — high-normal, typical of a strong responder, often seen in women under 30

• Above 6.8 ng/mL — very high, which can sometimes signal a risk of PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) and overstimulation

For egg donors, clinics typically look for AMH above 2.0 ng/mL. An exceptional donor usually has AMH above 4.0 ng/mL, sometimes higher, which suggests her ovaries are likely to respond generously to stimulation and produce a strong number of eggs.

AFC: the ultrasound that counts what’s actually there

AFC stands for Antral Follicle Count. Where AMH measures follicle activity through a blood test, AFC puts eyes on it directly. A fertility doctor uses a transvaginal ultrasound to physically count the small resting follicles visible in both ovaries at that moment. Each follicle has the potential to contain a mature egg once stimulated.

A typical AFC is somewhere between 10 and 20 follicles across both ovaries. An exceptional donor often has an AFC of 25 or higher, which is a strong indicator that her ovaries will respond well to stimulation.

Doctors look at AMH and AFC together — along with the donor’s age — to build a complete picture of what to expect.

No single number tells the whole story, but together they’re a reliable preview.

So how do we actually use this to choose a donor?

Before we can answer that fully, we’ll need to talk through our family building goals with our doctor — specifically, how many children we’re hoping to have and how many embryos we’ll likely need. That conversation will determine how many mature eggs we need to retrieve, which will help us identify a donor whose AMH and AFC suggest she can realistically deliver that number.

Here’s what typical egg yields look like for young, healthy donors:

• A typical donor cycle retrieves somewhere between 15 and 25 mature eggs

• Donors aged 25 to 29 average around 18 mature eggs per cycle

• Donors aged 30 to 35 average around 16 mature eggs per cycle

• An exceptional donor in ideal conditions can yield 25 or more

Not all retrieved eggs will fertilize, and not all fertilized eggs will develop into viable embryos — so there’s always some math involved, and some buffer required. (I’ll share more about that in a future post!)

One thing to note: donors with exceptional AMH and AFC numbers often have higher compensation rates. Higher ovarian reserve generally means a more predictable cycle and a better chance of getting the number of embryos you’re hoping for. 1 (See footnote)

FAQ: the questions I had that you might have too…

Does donating eggs speed up menopause?

Nope! Not at all, actually. In a normal cycle, the body recruits a whole group of follicles each month, but only one actually matures and gets released. The rest quietly disintegrate. Stimulation rescues those follicles that would have been lost anyway and gives them a chance to mature. The eggs retrieved are eggs her body was going to waste that month regardless, so IVF doesn’t pull from her future supply. Menopause timeline stays the same!

Will the donor still get her period that month?

Mostly no… at least not on her usual schedule. The stimulation process temporarily overrides her natural cycle. She’ll likely have some bleeding after the retrieval as her body resets, but it won’t be a typical period. Her cycle usually returns to normal within four to six weeks.

Why are these numbers so different from what I’ve heard about IVF?

Since sharing our journey, so many women have generously let me into their own IVF experiences, and I feel genuinely privileged to have heard them. One thing I noticed is that egg yields varied wildly, and now I understand more about why.

Many people who pursue IVF for infertility have low AMH and AFC — diminished ovarian reserve is often part of why conception has been difficult in the first place. Fewer active follicles means fewer eggs retrieved, which is why yields for someone doing IVF with their own eggs can look very different from what I’m describing here. If you’ve been on that road, I want to acknowledge how hard that is. </3

On the other end, some women with PCOS have very high AMH and retrieve a large number of eggs — but because of hormonal imbalances, fewer of those eggs may be mature or viable. More isn’t always better.

Our situation is different because our egg donor is a young, healthy, pre-screened woman selected specifically for her strong ovarian reserve, not too low, not too high.

There’s so much to learn and so much to look forward to!

I’ll be doing a full post soon that walks through the entire IVF process from start to finish — what happens after the eggs are retrieved, how embryos are created and tested, and how our gestational carrier will fit into all of it. I’m so excited to learn and share more, and would love to answer any specific questions you might have!

In the meantime, I never thought I’d be the guy who could explain antral follicles at a dinner party…

But here we are!

Sources

• Cofertility. “Choosing an Egg Donor: What AMH, AFC, and Age Can Tell You.” cofertility.com, 2025.

• Cofertility. “How Many Donor Egg Cycles Does It Take to Have a Baby?” cofertility.com, 2025.

• CNY Fertility. “Antral Follicle Count and IVF: What’s a Good Number.” cnyfertility.com, updated December 2025.

• CNY Fertility. “Number of Eggs Retrieved in IVF: Average, Optimal, By Age.” cnyfertility.com, updated October 2025.

• Athena Fertility. “How Many Eggs Can You Expect to Retrieve Based on Your AMH Level?” athena-fertility.com, 2025.

• Cleveland Clinic. “IVF (In Vitro Fertilization): Procedure & How It Works.” my.clevelandclinic.org, updated January 2026.

• Lin et al. “Factors Influencing Oocyte Yield and Embryo Quality in Donor IVF Cycles.” Frontiers in Endocrinology, 2025.

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I sang a solo at my high school graduation.

I’m from a town of about 3,000 people. I remember standing at the microphone, looking out at all those faces, and realizing what that number actually means when it’s in front of you.

Within hours of announcing that Ryan and I are moving forward with starting a family, that’s how many people unfollowed me.

I understand that social media isn’t a room. People follow and unfollow all the time. But 3,000 isn’t abstract to me. It’s a stadium full of every person I grew up around. And behind each of those unfollows is a real decision — not just about my content, but about me, and the family I hope to have.

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I grew up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In my community, family isn’t just important — it’s central. I was taught from the time I was small that becoming a parent is one of the most sacred things a person can do. That building a home matters. That it’s worth shaping your entire life around.

It feels strange that the same people who worked so hard to instill in me a desire for family are the ones who struggle with me wanting it.

I understand where some of the tension comes from. In the doctrine I was raised with, families are centered on a man and a woman. That’s the model people are taught to hold sacred. So when a gay couple says they want a family, people don’t see it the same way.

But that understanding doesn’t make it feel any less isolating.

This isn’t the first time I’ve lost people for living my life honestly. It happened when I came out. It happened when I got married. There has always been a version of me people were comfortable with. As long as I stayed within it, I was easy to support. But each time my life moves forward in a visible way, a new set of people decide they’re done.

Being gay in this community often means your life is seen as one step behind what’s considered whole. You can be loved in theory, but not in practice. Supported in identity, but not in outcome. Accepted, until your life starts to look complete. So when you’re straight and you want a family, it’s treated as something sacred. But when you’re gay and you want the same thing—a marriage, a home, a family—it becomes a point of departure.

I know it shouldn’t matter what other people think. And I know there are far more people who support my husband and me than those who don’t. But that doesn’t change the weight of it. Because these aren’t strangers. These are people who knew me. People who read my book and told me it changed something in them. People who are part of the same faith I love and am still trying to belong to.

What I wish — more than anything — is that people could stay a little longer. Sit with the discomfort instead of leaving it. Because I really do believe that if you look closely enough at any person’s life, you find someone trying their best with what they’ve been given. We are all children of God. That’s something this community taught me too. And I think being a community — a real one — means being willing to seek to understand one another, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Especially when it’s uncomfortable.

So I think about my graduation. What it felt like to sing in front of everyone who had ever known me and have them listen without walking away.

I just wish more people could do that now.

Ryan and his Mom, circa 2011

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I don’t remember exactly what time it was when we finally looked up and realized we’d been talking for hours.

We were on the couch in our little studio apartment, buried in throw pillows and blankets, screencasting my laptop with about 100 tabs open. We were talking seriously about building a family, and facing the first big question: Which path do we take?

Adoption, foster care, or IVF?

I could picture our family through any of those windows. Ryan leaned toward a biological child, but we both wanted to hold all the options honestly before landing anywhere. To do the work and go in with eyes wide open.

Over the next few weeks we talked to trusted families who had adopted or fostered, and the more we learned, the more our appreciation for those paths grew. The love these families had for their kids was full and unmistakable.

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There was something so beautiful about a child finding a family — about parents opening their lives and saying, “you belong with us.” The families called to these paths were doing something extraordinary, showing up for a child in an unstable moment and offering them something solid.

Alongside all the beauty, they shared the reality. Timelines were unpredictable. Legal processes could be fragile. Birth family relationships continued long after placement, evolving in ways that required ongoing navigation. And there were children — loved children in good homes — still working through questions of identity and origin years later.

Around the same time, a training came up at work. I’m a therapist, and our clinic brought in an expert on supporting clients who had been adopted. I sat there taking notes on identity formation, attachment, and layers of grief — and couldn’t stop thinking about the decision we were in the middle of making.

When I got home that night, we went straight back to the couch. I shared what I’d learned, and we started imagining what it might feel like for an adopted child to grow up in our specific life.

We’re a gay couple living in Utah, publicly visible, inside a religious community with strong and sometimes divided feelings about families like ours. A birth family relationship — already complex — becomes harder to protect when one family lives in public view. A child’s story can reach them from directions no one anticipated. Legal uncertainty early in the process, at a moment when attachment is already forming, felt especially fragile in that context.

We kept asking ourselves one question:

What actually gives our future child the strongest foundation?

For us, the answer kept coming back to simplicity. To removing layers.

With IVF, there would be no birth family relationship to navigate. No legal fragility in the early days of attachment. No story that exists before our family does. Our child would still grow up with complexity — two dads, a religious community, a world that doesn’t always know what to do with families like ours. But those were layers we could walk through together, as a family, from the very beginning.

That clarity didn’t come without some guilt along the way.

Adoption is a generous and loving path, and I felt the weight of that. I had been sitting with the question of whether choosing IVF was the more self-interested choice, but the truth is, I wanted a biological child, too. And I realized that’s allowed to matter.

I want to see my husband in our kids — his steadiness, his humor, the quiet way he takes care of people… I want to watch those qualities find their way into a whole new person (and hopefully his curly hair!) The thought of a little Ryan or a little Charlie, some sweet combination of who we are finding its way into the world — that image doesn’t just make me happy. It feels like it was always part of the plan for us.

That night, we both felt the confirmation we had been praying for.

And just like that, the question shifted from which path to how to begin. We closed about 80 of those 100 tabs, opened a fresh one, and typed in a new search:

“Fertility clinics near me.”

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“Aren’t you sad you won’t be a dad?”

The question came up almost every time I came out to someone—no matter how kind or supportive they were. It was always there, sitting underneath everything else.

And the truth is, yes. I was.

I was raised in a big, close family where everything revolved around each other. Long before I understood anything about my identity, I understood what it meant to belong to something bigger than myself.

I wanted to bring a child into the world. To pass on more than genetics—creativity, humor, curiosity, faith, resilience. To build a family culture that felt like its own little universe. To care for someone, protect them, guide them, and grow alongside them.

So when I realized I was gay, it didn’t just feel like I was navigating who I was. It felt like I was losing something I had always longed for.

I wasn’t just sad. I was devastated.

I—and honestly, everyone around me—assumed that because I was gay, I wouldn’t be a father. Not that it would be harder or look different. Just that it wouldn’t happen. I barely knew other gay people, let alone ones building families. So I told myself I would be the best uncle I could be, fully showing up for my siblings’ kids. And for a long time, I let that version of the future settle in.

But little by little, something started to shift.

It started when I met Ryan.

I saw how he shows up for people—the steadiness in him, the way he takes care of things, how he creates safety without even trying. It was easy to picture him as a father.

After we got married, we started to build a life that felt like ours. And somewhere along the way, I started to see how we could actually become a family. It wasn’t this big, impossible idea anymore, but rather something within reach.

Then last year, it became clear in an instant.

Four of our nieces were born in four months, and I had never been around newborns like that before. I was suddenly in it—around babies all the time, seeing what those early days actually look like.

And when we went to the hospital after my younger brother’s baby was born, I held her for the first time—and it hit me. Nurses moving in and out, everything happening around us—it all faded. It was just her in my arms—her little blue eyes, her strawberry blonde hair.

Something in me shifted and locked into place.

It was abundantly clear: I still want to be a father—and I still can be.

This week, we’re meeting with a fertility clinic to talk through our options. We’ve spent months getting here—researching, talking it through with each other and our families, and praying to know how to move forward.

It’s a small step, but it holds so much. And it feels right.

For a long time, I thought being a dad might not be part of my story.

Now, we’re stepping toward it, and I can’t wait!

I’m documenting how we’re building our family!

Major milestones and highlights will be on Instagram, but THIS is where I’ll share more unfiltered details—the decisions, uncertainty, emotional weight, financial reality, etc. I imagine there will be a LOT to learn, and a lot that doesn’t go as planned, but there’s so much to look forward to!

If you’ve ever wondered what this process looks like (or if it’s something you might want someday) I’m going to show the process as clearly and honestly as I can.

If you subscribe, you’ll get a closer look at everything as it unfolds, and your support will go directly toward helping us pay for fertility treatments.

It honestly means so much to us—and it’s helping us build our family, which still feels a little surreal!

<3 Charlie (& Ryan)