I’ll never forget the day my first son was born. My coffee tasted yummier that day. The sky looked bluer; the sun felt warmer.
Suddenly, the autumn of my life fell into happier focus. Before that day, my future was just this stark ongoing monotony of me, me, me. Suddenly, there was him, him, him.
In Victoria, donor sperm can be used by as many as 10 separate people. Credit: Istock I messaged friends and family the happy news and got on with my day, albeit with a soppy smile. I’ve never met my son, although I sincerely hope I do one day.
I’ve never met any of my three sons, or my daughter. A fifth child, also biologically mine, is due any day now. This is because in 2020, I acted on the single most meaningful decision of my adult life: to donate sperm to a fertility clinic in NSW and give would-be families the opportunity to have the children they longed for.
If I lived in Victoria, though, it’s hard to imagine I’d do the same. Loading Earlier this month, the Allan government launched a campaign encouraging Victorians to donate to the country’s first public sperm and egg bank , where patients are waiting up to two years for viable sperm and egg donations. The families who have used my donation know a lot about me – from my highest educational achievement to how often I exercise.
They have a picture of me aged eight. Yet, all I know about them is that they live in NSW, their gender, and when they were born. I’m a de-identified donor, meaning that once they turn .
