When Lauren Arrabito packed up her car and left Florida for Colorado three years ago, she didn’t have a job lined up — just a craving for adventure and a fresh start.
But as her savings dwindled and job prospects stalled, she began searching for creative ways to make ends meet. That’s when she remembered friends back home who had gone through in vitro fertilization (IVF) and egg donation.
Curious, she started digging into the process, and one agency quickly caught her eye. It catered specifically to gay and single dads. As a gay woman herself, Arrabito felt an unexpected sense of connection. What started as a financial lifeline soon took on deeper meaning.
“It felt full circle,” she says. “This is a process I’ll likely go through myself one day to start a family. It felt like a way to give back to a community I’m part of.”
Motivated, she applied. After a rigorous screening process, she was added to what she describes as a “digital scrapbook” — a donor profile book that hopeful parents browse in search of a match.
Before long, her coordinator reached out: a pair of gay dads, who chose to remain anonymous, were interested in her eggs. Arrabito, now 28, hopped on a Zoom call with them and instantly felt a spark.
“They were like, ‘You’re gay, we’re gay, this is great,’ ” she laughs. “That wasn’t why they chose me, but it definitely created a bond. It just felt right.”
As the conversation deepened, so did their connection.
“They talked a lot about chosen family, about building a foundation on intention and love,” she says. “That meant everything to me.”
Lauren Arrabito
Once they were officially matched, things moved quickly. Arrabito underwent additional testing: genetic screening, legal paperwork and a psychological evaluation. Together, she and the dads made a key decision: they wanted an open donation.
“We wanted it to be intentional,” she explains. “Their child is going to grow up with two dads and no maternal figure. We thought, let’s keep this open. If she ever needs genetic history or has questions, I’ll be there to support that.”
As meaningful as it was, the process wasn’t easy. The hormone injections were intense, and at times, Arrabito questioned whether she could follow through.
What kept her grounded was her support system. She’d been documenting her egg donation journey on TikTok from the beginning, finding solidarity and encouragement within the queer community.
“It was worth it,” she says. “The injections last about two weeks, and I had a coordinator I actually followed to a different agency because she was such an incredible advocate and friend. Without her, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”
When it came time for the retrieval, Arrabito flew to the dads’ city. The night before, she met them in person — joined by her coordinator — for dinner.
“It felt like a second interview,” she jokes. “But it was great. We bonded over Beyoncé, Adele, Pride events. It felt like I’d known them forever.”
Lauren Arrabito
After the donation, Arrabito and the dads kept in touch with occasional updates. That’s when she learned that even before the egg retrieval they’d been on a surrogate waitlist for two years, stuck, with no progress.
Around that time, Lindsay Perrin, 37, a fellow member of the online lesbian community, had been following Arrabito’s egg donation journey. The two had become internet friends, eventually meeting in person at a Fletcher concert in Orlando.
A year later, they reconnected at a Girl in Red show in Denver. Over brunch the next day, Perrin asked casually, “Do the dads have any kids yet?” When Arrabito said no, Perrin didn’t hesitate. “Oh, I’ll do it.”
It sounded impulsive, but something about it felt right. A queer mom of two with a flexible schedule and a deep commitment to community, Perrin felt compelled to help.
“We’d been drinking,” she laughs. “And I’m someone who does things for the plot. I was like, ‘This is a great story. I’ll do it.’ ”
Arrabito texted her coordinator: “So…I may have found a surrogate.” Within a week, Perrin was FaceTiming with the dads.
“It felt like a date,” Perrin says. “I was nervous, like, ‘What do they think of me?’ But they said, ‘We love you!’ and that was that.”
Lindsay Perrin
With everyone on board, the process began. Like Arrabito, Perrin underwent psychological evaluations, bloodwork and legal reviews. What started as an offhand comment at brunch quickly became a life-changing commitment.
“I remember telling Lauren, ‘Maybe I could be pregnant by July,’ ” she laughs. “Turns out, it’s about a six-month process just to get to the embryo transfer.”
Finally, on November 5, 2024, the transfer took place. From the original donation, about 40 eggs had been retrieved. The clinic fertilized them with sperm from both dads, creating embryos that were frozen until ready for use. The couple chose to implant one, hoping for a girl.
For everyone involved, it was more than just a milestone — it was the culmination of trust, intention and queer connection.
“It’s really cool,” Arrabito says. “People often think egg donation or surrogacy is transactional, and in some ways it is. But because of the connection between all of us, it became so much more than that.”
Perrin agrees. “Helping someone in the queer community just meant everything,” she says. “I don’t think I would’ve done this for a straight couple, maybe that sounds harsh, but it just wouldn’t have felt the same. Doing this for other queer people, it felt personal.”
That deep sense of shared purpose showed up in every decision. Their fertility doctor was a gay man. Perrin’s OB-GYN — who would later deliver the baby — was one of the first lesbian friends she made after her divorce.
“Everything about it had layers,” she says.
@laperrin10 Not really, but i did get pregnant! #thesapphicsurrogate ♬ original sound Lindsay🏳️🌈
But while the experience was rich with meaning, the pregnancy came with real physical and emotional costs. Although Perrin had experienced sickness with her previous pregnancies, this one hit differently.
She was throwing up two to five times a day, even toward the end. Add to that relentless heartburn, fatigue and the sheer physical weight of late pregnancy, and this time felt harder, heavier.
“I don’t know if it’s because I’m six years older now, or because it wasn’t my DNA and my body was reacting differently,” she says. “But it was rough. I started to wonder, could I even do this again? I knew the dads dreamed of giving their daughter a sibling.”
Cara Boyer Photography
Still, everything changed the day the baby arrived. The dads had flown to Indiana on July 12, and within 12 hours, Perrin’s water broke.
Watching the dads during the birth was incredible for Perrin. She says they were completely engaged — emotional, theatrical and utterly invested in every moment.
“One of them was right there, ready to catch the baby. He said, ‘The woman’s body is incredible!’ ” she laughs. “It felt like a scene straight out of Barbie. They were both crying. One held my leg while I pushed, and I only had to push three times — she was out in four minutes.”
Even the music added to the magic. Their carefully curated playlist featured queer icons like Fletcher and Chappell Roan.
“ ‘Good Luck, Babe’ played during the embryo transfer,” Perrin says. “So we knew we had to include it during the birth.”
Lindsay Perrin
After the baby was born, Perrin grabbed her phone and started filming even before the cord was cut. She says the dads were crying, overwhelmed with emotion. Watching them become a family after such a long, multi-year journey was deeply moving for her.
“All the hardship melted away when it was time to give birth,” Perrin recalls. “The delivery was the most magical day of my life, more than my own kids’ births. Even more than Taylor Swift.”
Since welcoming the baby girl on July 13, the bond between Perrin, Arrabito and the dads has only grown stronger. They have a group chat called Big Gay Fam and keep in touch there.
While speaking to PEOPLE, both Perrin and Arrabito flashed the matching necklaces the dads had given each of them: Arrabito received hers after the egg retrieval, and Perrin’s was a push present.
“They gave me this necklace when we met them,” Arrabito explains. “Mine has a daffodil on it, which symbolizes creativity and rebirth, or life. I’m an artist on the side, so they knew that about me. It’s really sentimental.”
Perrin adds, “Mine was like a push present. It has a ruby and a white lotus, the birthstone and birth flower for July.”
@laurenbito she’s happy she’s healthy and she’s so stinkin cute. oh and @Lindsay🏳️🌈 is a badass #fyp #wlw #surrogacy #ivf #lgbtq ♬ DAISIES – Justin Bieber
After the birth, the dads stayed nearby for a week. One of Perrin’s neighbors even rented them her house just a few doors down. Perrin brought her kids over to meet the baby, and together, they’ve been planning future visits — a first birthday party, Pride next year and maybe even Queer Family Week in Provincetown.
For Perrin, the profoundness of what they created together, and the love surrounding it, feels especially meaningful in today’s political climate.
“It’s like we’re the lesbian aunties,” Perrin laughs. “My kids have a cousin now. The baby daddies are family to me. I have such a small family,” she reflects. “It’s just nice to have this extended one now.”
“I gave them the gift of life, and so did Lauren,” she adds. “And in a time when the queer community faces so much daily attack, seeing these two dads become parents — seeing how much they love each other and how naturally they’ve stepped into fatherhood — it just means everything.”
Lindsay Perrin
When asked about her emotional experience postpartum, Perrin says the question she gets most from people is how she’s feeling emotionally and what the attachment has been like.
She says it feels similar to what she imagines it’s like being a grandparent or a nanny, you love your time with the baby, but it’s nice when they go home to their parents.
“It’s been really good to focus on my own recovery, get rest at night and not have to change diapers,” she says, adding how she’s also shipping breast milk to the dads. “It’s also easier knowing I’ll remain in her life forever as her fun, lesbian auntie, and I’m so excited to watch that.”
@laurenbito ok but this was the coolest experience and i’m so excited for her to get here #fyp #lgbtq #wuhluhwuh #wlw #surrogacy @Lindsay🏳️🌈 ♬ original sound – laurenbito
In the weeks after the baby’s arrival, both Arrabito and Perrin found themselves sharing more and more of their experience online, hoping to connect with others and offer encouragement.
One video she shared of the story amassed over 1.7 million views on TikTok.
“Everyone I’ve told this story to has their jaws dropped,” Arrabito says. “They’re amazed at how this came about and how unique the experience is. I wasn’t expecting it to blow up or anything. I was just like, I’m going to post this, and prepare for the hate because trolls are everywhere.”
“But I don’t think I got a single negative comment,” Arrabito adds. “People were actually infatuated with it. They were saying, ‘This should be a Netflix show.’ And I’m like, sign us up! Let’s do it! Lauren and I were ready. It’s such a cool thing to me. I honestly don’t know why I hesitated to share it in the first place. If I could go back, I’d share the entire process from start to finish. It’s so informative, you learn so much, and it’s really heartwarming.”
“I even sent it to the dads, and they were like, ‘Oh my God, that’s amazing!’ ” she adds.