I normally cringe at the term of "sperm donor." Many people use it as a way to diminish a biological father's role in an adoption. However, I actually meant to use that term in the subject of this post. Why? It's what the story in the New York Times is about: a man who donated sperm over a period of years and is now beginning to reunite with the children he thus fathered.

All opinions on sperm (and egg) donation aside, the story is touching. It hints all around topics that many birth parents deal with entering reunion: determining similarity in physical characteristic and personality, issues concerning whether or not the everyday parents are approving of the reunion and a general awkwardness as two parties who share genetic material get to know one another.

The words of the father in question, now a family therapist, hit home for me and I'm sure other birth parents, especially those who have already entered reunion or are pondering that step, might be able to identify as well.

I thought in our first walk together that I, as his biological father, should know where to go, and as we walked I kept hoping for some intuitive clue as to which direction would be the right one. It was hard to be an instant father. I kept thinking I should be acting in a way he would approve, a way that showed me to be a capable and confident father, even though I had never been one.

I've heard many birth parents speak about the fears of expectations upon reunion. While some may have spent years mothering or fathering their distant child in their heart, others were told never to expect something like reunion and may have felt similarly, as an instant mother or father. The questions that surround even mothers and fathers in open adoption relationships are along the same lines, as we ponder what we should be to our child at any given time, desiring approval but not knowing exactly what to do to elicit that reaction.

Of course, as one may gather, there are differences in not only the reunion but perhaps in deed or thought over a lifetime. While the author of the article does state that he wondered about children that may have come from positive inseminations, he doesn't state that he spent eighteen years (or more, in so many cases) longing after, worrying about and generally missing those children to pieces. I would assume that is why some birth parents don't like to be compared with sperm and egg donors. I would venture to guess that this man was not told that he could not come home if he didn't donate sperm. While society may look down on sperm and egg donors for various reasons, he wasn't facing a social stigma to give up the sperm and only received it because of his actions. (Whereas many mothers, especially from the closed adoption era but even today, can speak to the oppressive social stigma that unwed and young mothers face upon an unplanned pregnancy.)

Perhaps one of the biggest differences in the comparison of the two issues is the exchange of money. Donahoe states clearly that he received forty dollars each time he donated his genetic fluids. In fact, there's an interesting part of the article when he gives his biological son some money as a gift and realizes, afterwards, how it might have seemed to the boy.

I don’t know why I thought to give him some money that day, especially in such an awkward and insufficient way, but a couple of days later, while sharing the story of my meeting with a friend, I remembered that $40 is what I was paid each visit to the sperm bank. I already felt sheepish that my gesture had seemed a bit too transactional, rushed, inept and definitely cheap. Part of me, perhaps, wanted to get business out of the way. Give back what I was paid, for my part in him. Start fresh. But $40? What must he have thought?

I recoiled in some variation of horror at this point in the article, distancing myself from any mental comparisons that I had been making as I read with interest. Birth parents often face the totally off-base myth that we received monies for our children or that we flat out sold them for profit. In fact, even mothers who receive money to help pay medical bills, rent or grocery bills are often seen as "profiting" for placing their child with another family. Truth be told, not many birth parents want to be seen as receiving a cash amount for a child that they cared for and loved over a nine month period of time.

Overlooking the differences between this sperm donor's story with that of those in adoption triad reunions, the story is actually quite thought provoking. Donahoe ends his article by answering a lingering question throughout the article that leaves us hanging a little, almost wanting more. I can't imagine that this man's life will ever be the same. I hope that he and all others involved can benefit from a relationship with what seems to be like a kind-hearted individual.

While this isn't exactly a story of how life is for birth parents, I thought it to be an interesting spin on issues that face our side of the triad. I have personally been compared with an egg donor in that I offered nothing more to my child than a genetic map. I've held myself, quite haughtily, above sperm and egg donors in my mind. This well-written personal story makes me realize, at least personally, while our stories may differ on some core levels, some issues cross those boundaries and unite us whether we want to be united... or not.

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For more, read other blogs:

1. Sperm Donor "Dad" Meets Children.

2. Donor Babies Coming of Age and Searching Parts One and Two.

3. The Same, Only Different.


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Article Reference: New York Times: Modern Love, July 29, 2007, by Thomas Anthony Donahoe. Photo Credit.