For the first time, another donor conceived person tells her story in addition to me always telling about my own story on my blog. Maria is a donor conceived offspring of sperm donor K34 of the Rijnstate hospital in Arnhem. After a while, she and her half siblings learned that a lot had gone wrong at the hospital. Their donor father fathered more children than allowed. I handed the pen to Maria and let her tell her story.
First let me introduce myself: my name is Maria. I was born in 1998 as the daughter of my mother Hedda and of sperm donor K34 of the Rijnstate hospital in Arnhem. At the time, my mother had a wish to have children, but no partner. Because she did not want to burden her child with a lifelong question of parentage, she very consciously chose a so-called ID release donor. This is a 'known' donor, who has agreed with the clinic that his identity may be disclosed to the child at a later point in life after the age of 16 if desired. So I grew up realizing that I had a father somewhere, whose identity I wouldn't be able to find out until I needed to.
This need came when my grandmother turned out to be terminally ill in 2017. My grandmother has been a second parental figure to me. I thought it was a strange and awful idea that she would never know who my biological father was. I asked her if she was curious about him. And my grandmother said yes, and also, "I'll be so happy to thank him."
But when I knocked on the door of Rijnstate hospital at the end of May 2017 and inquired about the identity of my donor father, I was not only told that I had many more half siblings than allowed (the counter is now at 59), but also that my donor father was had come up with and preferred to remain anonymous. To this day I have not been given a clear reason for this. And my grandmother passed away in the summer of 2018, without me ever being able to tell her more about my donor father. Reports from the hospital remained vague and contradictory. The Foundation Donor Data Artificial Fertilization (Stichting donorgegevens kunstmatige bevruchting- SDKB) was also unable to answer my questions properly. Together with my mother I contacted a lawyer, and in consultation with the hospital we decided to take the matter to court. Just to be clear: we are litigating against the hospital and not against my donor father!
Soon our story was on TV and in the newspapers. Reaction on social media about the lawsuit was very mixed. I saw positive reactions from people who were in a similar situation, or from people who could imagine that I want to know who my biological father is. But I also saw a lot of negative reactions from people full of incomprehension. According to them I was 'a spoiled bitch' or an arrogant, demanding woman. According to them I was only after money and should just leave that man alone. I pretended because a lot of people don't know who their parents are, and if my mom had gone to bed with any guy from the pub, after all, I wouldn't have known either, so why was I making such a fuss?
Of course I have often wondered why and his identity is so important to me. Am I really assuming? It's not that I don't have any information about the donor at all. Shouldn't I just settle for what I do know? Yet I always answer that question with: 'No, that identity is indeed what it is all about, and I cannot let it go until I know his identity.' It is a matter of feeling. I realize that this would be different for every donor conceived person. I think emotional issues are by definition difficult to put into words – that's why we use metaphors to get close. But the standard metaphor of 'the missing puzzle piece' doesn't feel appropriate to me in this situation. I already have a lot of puzzle pieces. I have a donorpaper and some additional information: I know his hair color, eye color, something about his family situation, and also that he describes himself as more extroverted than introverted. These data are all puzzle pieces that I am happy with and cherish. Because I realize that a lot of other donor conceived people and adoptees have much less and are really completely in the dark. But in addition to the joy I feel with every puzzle piece I manage to get, despair also grows. Somethings missing. What good is puzzle pieces if you don't get the chance to put the puzzle together? It doesn't feel so much as if puzzle pieces are missing to me, but rather as if I already have my hands constantly full with puzzle pieces. I'm afraid to drop them, I'm afraid to lose track, I try to put the puzzle pieces together but I can't, and I'm almost out of hands to do other things.
What I don't have is a surface, a puzzle mat. And that metaphorical puzzle mat, that is my identity. A name and a face, a person with whom I can connect all those puzzle pieces, where I can put those puzzle pieces, so that I have my hands free again to do other things and live on. Because no matter how much I learn about the man who is largely responsible for my existence, the question always remains: “But who are we talking about?” So it concerns me – contrary to what some people seem to think. − really just for the information. To 'know'. For my own peace of mind. I don't need a dad, I don't need contact, and I don't need a special place in his life. I would love to leave my donor father and the rest of his (and therefore my) family alone – but I do want to know who I am leaving alone. I want clarity about my ancestry, and I want to be on my own family tree.
25 January 2021 is the lawsuit of Maria against the Rijnstate hospital. And I hope everything works out for Maria and her half brothers and half sisters. #beonmyownfamilytree Are you a half brother or half sister of Maria and her half siblings and would you like to contact them? You can do that by sending a email to the following e-mailadres: kinderenK34@gmail.com
Comments