Lola does have a Father

Some time ago, I blogged about my thoughts surrounding what to tell Lola about her Father/Sperm Donor. 

I finished by saying that I had said to Lola that she didn't have a Daddy, but that she had a Donor. 

My thoughts & feelings have shifted considerably since writing that post. 

Firstly, I started to communicate with a Donor Conceived (DC) Adult. She had written a blog post about her Donor & said that she felt that he was her Father. She felt our language surrounding Donor Conception was limited but that using the word 'Donor' didn't seem appropriate.  

She commented that the word donor makes one think of Charity Auctions, Organ donors & depersonalised the man who is out there, living & breathing. 

In her opinion, the man that donated sperm IS Lola's father. Lola shares 50% of her DNA with him, 1/2 of her is from him. 

I have to agree. 

Lola does have a Father. A Father who donated his sperm. 

I have a few details of this man scribbled on a piece of A4 paper. We know his height, blood group, body type, hair & eye colour, occupation & interests. He has always been 2D. 

Recently I have started to think of him as a real person, started to think about a man out there, who has a job, friends & a family. He is more than just a few details on a piece of paper. I've started to wonder what else Lola shares with him other than DNA. Do they share the same features, the same habits? 

She then asked if she could repost my blog on her blog. I agreed. 

The first of the comments absolutely slated me. I was called desperate & selfish. I was told that I should apologise to my daughter. Apologise for compromising her rights. Apologise for entering into an agreement that meant she had less rights than any other child. 

Was it fair that she didn't know her kin, her father, her siblings? 

I became quite defensive saying that I refused to apologise to L, that that would imply that I felt I'd done wrong, that I regretted & felt sorry about my choices. 

I will never apologise for having had my daughter. She is my world.  But do I owe her an apology? 

While I didn't agree with the tone of the ladies comments, it was real food for thought when it came to L's rights as a Donor Conceived child.  

It was suggested to me that I watch 'Generation Cryo'. A documentary about a young lady, with 2 lesbian Mums, searching for her Sperm Donor. Because she lives in the US  she had her Donor Number so she signed up to the Donor Sibling Registry. She discovered 15 donor siblings. 

It was fascinating to see the kids different thoughts & feelings towards their donor/father & it was so heart warming to see the relationships between the donor siblings grow. 

In the UK, DC kids don't get their donor number until they are 18. I feel sad that Lola won't have the same opportunity to grow up knowing her donor siblings. I feel quite strongly that this part of the law should be changed. 

Should the donor/father's name be put on the birth certificate? I don't know. Would people still donate their sperm & eggs if they were on the Birth Certificate? At what age is a child ready emotionally to go & meet their Father?  I need to think more about this & perhaps blog about it at a later date. 

What was perhaps most interesting & thought provoking was some comments on my blog from 3 DC adults, some of which had SMC (Single Mothers by Choice). 

One said that Lola doesn't have a donor. That that man donated his sperm to me. He is my donor. I had never thought of it like that but I totally agree. 

Another commented that I should allow Lola to express her feelings about being DC. She may be angry, hurt, furious & must let her be. This really resonated with me as I feel it's human nature to try & make someone feel better. I must make her feel safe enough to work through her feelings, whatever they are without being concerned about how they make me feel. She has my full support if she decides to try & make contact with her Father/Siblings. 

The ladies commenting on my blog also agreed that they found their Mothers saying how badly they wanted them to be a bit of a burden, so I must be conscious of that too! 

One of the things I found most upsetting was the comments that DC kids are born to fill a hole in their parents lives but are then left with a hole themselves as they have no knowledge of their Father, his family & their families medical history.  Some feel a part of them is missing, unknown. 

This has made me seriously question the rights of DC kids as they stand today. With the increase in DC children these really need to be rethought. I shall be considering all that I have learnt over the past 2 months & plan my next steps forward. 

One thing for sure, I WILL be campaigning for my daughters rights to know her donor number before she is 18 so that we can join the Donor Sibling Registry. If she has siblings out there that are registered, why should she wait until she's 18 to meet them? 

So where am I at? 

Lola does have a Father, a Father who donated his sperm to me. 

How she will feel about him & whether she decides to call him her Father or her Donor remains to be seen! 

 

Is Time such a great healer?

We are coming up to the anniversary of my Dad's death. 

He died, out of the blue, 17 years ago. 

He was 54. I was 27. Sudden death from a heart attack. 

I woke up to the phone ringing. It was early. It was my Mum. 

'Emma, it's me. Can you come out. Dad has died.' 

I just remember saying 'No' and telling her we would be out there as soon as we could. 

I was sharing a house with my brother. 

'Dale, wake up. That was Mum on the phone. Dad has died'. 

I wonder if he has flashbacks of me telling him, as I do of me telling him. I can still see his face. The horror. The shock. The disbelief. I will always hear my Mum's words in my ears. Words that can be replayed at any time & feel as raw as the first time I first heard them. 

No chance to say goodbye. Just gone. Ended. Over. 

I spent the 1st year afterwards coping very well. Or so you would have thought. In fact, I wasn't dealing with it at all. I was in shock. I was numb. But I carried on.  I was the organiser. I rang the family. I shared the news. I worried about other people's feelings. I made sure everyone else was ok. 

My Mum was a mess. That day I stopped being someone's daughter & became a parent. A parent who had never given birth. 

A year later, I fell apart. The grief kicked in. Nobody understood. Shouldn't I have been over it by now? A year is no time at all in the world of grief. It's just getting started, not coming to an end. 

Honestly, it took me 7 years to think about my Dad dying without feeling like I'd been stabbed in the heart & needed to gasp for breath. 

Before Lola was born, I felt like I was getting used to the idea. I missed him but  was getting used to him not being around. Getting used to not seeing him, not talking to him, not laughing with him. 

When Lola was born I felt like like the grieving started all over again. I was sad for my daughter, I was sad for my Dad, grieving for the lack of opportunity. That these 2 amazing people would never meet. We were all robbed. Now it's not just my birthday he's missing, now he will be missing my daughter's Birthday too. 

Every special occasion, every Christmas, he's missing. 

I wonder what he would of made of Lola. I wonder how he would of been with her. I'm so gutted that Lola has been robbed of a Grandfather. I'm now grieving for her too. I'm angry on her behalf. 

They say time is a great healer. 

Has time healed me? No. 

Sometimes I don't think I'll ever be 'over it'. 

Death is the only thing in life that's guaranteed & yet the hardest thing to come to terms with. 

I miss my Dad.