A Sperm Donor's Family Reunion

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I viewed a recent segment on the news/entertainment program, “Sunday Morning.” And though I watch this program, or most of it, each week before my wife and I head off for church, the latest offing may have been the strangest of them all.

The segment in question had as its topic, Sperm Donors and the derivative thereof; namely babies. Lots and lots and lots of babies. As the clip begins we learn that the sperm donor industry maintains little or no record of their contributors, donor-tees (my word), or the children born of this rather impersonal non-meeting.

Reminds me of one of my favorite movies of all time; “The Switch,” the only movie of which I’m personally aware in which Sperm Donation is the subject. It is both humorous and poignant. In this particular video, the supposed donor turns out not to be the actual donor at all.

In recent years one recipient of an anonymous individual’s dubious donation decided to create a list of former and current sperm donors, and their progeny. Interested wannabe fathers and “children of the test tube,” (or cryogenic storage receptacle, as the case may be) registered, and continue to register using their names, contact information, and the assigned lot number of the original donation. As a result, literally hundreds of sperm donors and their offspring have met; (though not necessarily “fallen in love”).

As the story unfolds one particular fellow and six or eight of his, well, again I think “offspring” is a good word, experience the family reunion of all family reunions. It seems “Richard” initially got into the donation game when he saw an advertisement in his Cornell University newspaper, and has continued to contribute his seed for decades afterwards. 

In this particular case, nothing could have prepared the paternal nominee for the reception he received. Of course, the outcome of his “$100 a shot,” all these conceptions have become young adults, and now each of these strapping young men and women were meeting, not only their paternal sperm donor, but their half-siblings, as well.

When the “Sunday Morning” reporter asks the decidedly delighted donor about the myriad of regular “contributions” he has, well, donated over the course of three decades, he admits having filled up, (as much as one can actually fill up) approximately 400 cryogenic glass tubes. And since contributions are divided into smaller “doses,” he may conceivably, (play on words) be the father of (drum roll)

 … as many as 10,000 boys and girls currently living, and breathing and moving on the face of planet Earth!

Richard goes on to inform us that he has already met 22 of his offspring, and that he is keen on meeting as many more of those previously anonymous faces as possible; while continuing to generate a few hundred more in his spare time.

Yes, to say it is a happy reunion would be an understatement. There are plenty of hugs and kisses to go around. And in one scene Richard issues, (play on words) an unusual, but magnanimous statement about his relationship, or lack thereof, with his offspring.

“If their mom or dad couldn’t provide for them, I’d definitely step in and help all I could.”

(Well, the proof is in the pudding, and I’m doubtful he’s up to writing child support checks for upwards of 10,000 children in any given month. Ole Richard would need one of those check printing machines; reminiscent of the IRS).

I have often mused that when one makes as many contributions as some of these chronic sperm donors make on an annual basis, they’re bound to “shoot a few blanks.” I mean, to use an illusion, for every 200 million dollars some guy in Good Hope, Kansas collects on Power Ball, there are several hundred million

… losers

who haven’t won a darn thing.

In the same vein, one has to wonder if among all the children born of this modern brand of conception, there may be as many Hitler’s conceived, as Einstein’s. Scary proposition. And while I may be exaggerating a bit, by way of personal editorial, it seems extremely irresponsible to me to spill one’s seed into a vial, multiplied hundreds of times, and walk away without so much as a second thought for the fate of thousands of potential human beings which may result from that momentary, mercenary activity. The possibility that he may be passing on a genetic trait resulting in the replication of Down’s Syndrome or Juvenile Diabetes among dozens of his offspring, or the potential for placing unknown hundreds of his progeny into environments over which he has no control; in which abuse or dysfunctional lifestyles are the norm.

At any rate, we must hurry along, and return to this strangest of all family gatherings.

 And as the reunion draws to a close, I can just hear Richard saying to his herd,

“Okay guys. It’s been nice, but I really need to get to work!”

And I can imagine the clan of newfound brothers and sisters with their twisted grins, and winking at one another, and perhaps a couple of muffled groans, and one whispering loud enough to wake the dead,

“Not to change the subject, … but what else can we talk about?”

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 22. Copyright pending

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