The Guardian Weekend | 27 February 2021 The Guardian Weekend | 27 February 2021 25 25
the mother of a donor-conceived son. “And there are many good reasons –
medical and psychological – to connect while children are young.” Sperm
banks, Kramer says, can’t be relied on to notify recipient families about
medical issues, which could be vital information for off spring. She adds: “It’s
also an innate human desire to want to know where and who we come from;
it helps with identity formation.”
Campbell and Jeff reys had sought out a sperm donor because they were
single, while the Pearsons did so due to fertility problems. How was all the
donor talk for Francis, being the only father? “I dealt with everything years
ago,” he says. “I was just excited there was a way to have a child and, I’ll be
honest, I’ve forgotten what he wrote. Only when I notice the similarities in
the girls do I think about him .”
While the girls’ physical similarities are more obvious , shared traits are
harder to identify – though all the parents have noted their daughters’
“terrifying” enthusiasm for daredevil climbing.
More than two years on, the three families are close and see one other as
often as they can, over Zoom and in real life. W hen lockdown rules relaxed last
summer, they had a playdate in a park. Laurie, fi ve, brought a bag of fruity treats
she’d remembered Polly liked; Jeff reys brought some dresses that Alice, six,
had outgrown; and two-year-old Polly tried to get the older girls to chase her.
How much do the parents think the children understand? The Donor
Conception Network promotes being open and honest with children from
a young age, and the four parents agree. Jeff reys reads Alice a story she
wrote herself explaining her daughter’s origins, and Alice proudly tells
people about her little sisters, “using surprisingly advanced reproductive
terminology,” Jeff reys says, laughing. Campbell and the Pearsons use the
DCN-published children’s book Our Story: How We Became A Family. Francis
says Polly points at the characters, saying: “Mummy... Daddy... Donor! She’s
just learned that from the page about ‘the kind people who help families to
have children’. Though, of course, she doesn’t really understand yet.”
The books don’t mention donor half-siblings, so the parents add that part.
“Laurie knows they all come from the same seed,” Campbell says. “She’s
never said ‘sister’, but I think she has a sense it’s a special thing, somehow.”
Jeff reys is often abroad with Alice for work but they all try not to miss the
girls’ birthdays. All attended Laurie’s birthday in 2019. “I spotted Alice tugging
at the sleeve of the children’s entertainer, pointing at Polly,” Francis says. “I
could see she was saying, ‘T hat’s my sister.’ ” Jeff reys isn’t surprised. “Alice is
delighted she has sisters. Lots of her classmates do, and now she’s like them.”
How d id family and friends react? “They were amazed ,” Campbell recalls.
“Most wanted to know if they looked alike.” She was pleased to have all three
at the party. “I was excited about my larger group of friends and family meeting
the sisters. But, of course, it was total chaos and I didn’t end up making any
formal introductions. Everyone just got on with it – probably the best way.”
“Lucy and Emma are pretty upfront,” Francis says, “but as there are two
of us, no one wonders who Polly’s father is, so it can feel a bit announce-y
to explain. There’s plenty of time to widen the circle – and we will. We want
Polly to be proud of herself and her family, all of it ; but ultimately, it’s her
story, not ours.”
It’s not only family or friends who need to be told. Not long before the
fi rst lockdown, Alice spent a week at Polly’s nursery when Jeff reys needed
short-term childcare. The parents briefed the nursery. “It’d confuse Alice if
someone said, ‘Don’t be silly, she’s not your sister!’ ” Pearson says. “ Of course,
Alice immediately announced the facts to staff. ‘What did she tell you?’ I
asked when one relayed this to me. She widened her eyes: ‘Oh, everything .’ ”
There could be more half-siblings out there, and the girls may also want
to contact their donor himself when each turns 18 and his details become
available to them. There is certainly going to be at least one more sibling:
Pearson is currently fi ve months pregnant, after using the same donor.
What about the future of their own relationships? All feel these are to be
carefully protected. “It feels really special we met; the randomness of choosing
a donor translating into something so solid,” Campbell says. “Other people
may think, ‘ That’s a bit weird’ – but I feel a pride in embracing that newness,
the modernness of it. I think it’s really brave. And it’s for the girls.”
Names have been changed.
But Pearson had already registered
on the site and sent a message. In her
response, Emma Campbell, a talent
agent, wrote about her daughter,
Laurie, and quipped: “It’s a hard slog for
those of us who don’t have the luxury
of just having a shag and getting a baby
- great to meet another kindred spirit!”
Pearson warmed to her immediately.
Without warning, Campbell also sent a
photo of Laurie. “I hadn’t been ready for
that,” Pearson says. “You worry: will my
baby look diff erent, somehow? Then,
suddenly, there was this lovely little
girl with an impish smile, splashing
around in her garden like any other two-
year-old. An actual person who shared
our baby’s DNA. It was a relief, but also
extremely surreal.”
Then Campbell dropped another
bombshell: “Did you see on the site that
there’s another girl from our donor?
She’s also in London and we’ve met a
couple of times. She’s lovely and her
mum is, too – and single, like me! Three
sisters in London from the same donor –
totally mind-blowing .”
The third mother was Lucy Jeff reys,
a diplomat with a daughter, Alice, then
four, also based in south London. As
mother to the oldest child, she’d been
the fi rst to register on the DS R website.
“I think it’s important for children to
know their biological heritage,” she
says. “I’ve done some family history
and met distant relatives. I wanted Alice
to have those links.” All three families
fi nally met when Polly, the Pearsons’
baby, was six weeks old.
“We were pretty nervous and wanted
them to like us,” Pearson recalls. “I
made a cake.” Jeff reys , Campbell and
the girls arrived together, bearing
gifts. The mood was warm and easy;
the older girls played, argued a bit and
were briefl y interested in the tiny baby.
Photos were taken – fairly standard stuff. Less standard was everyone noting
the girls’ identical noses.
The adults talked about what had drawn them to the donor. All three had
used a US site because the y tend to provide much more information than
European sites: a donor statement (a letter for potential parents), and photos.
Campbell says she liked her donor’s intelligence and artistic nature, and had
also enjoyed the last book he’d read (Cloud Atlas). Jeff reys felt he would get
on with her family, while Pearson said it was his fi nal , dramatic sentence that
had stuck in her mind: “And one day I hope to run for offi ce .” “It’s good to be
ambitious!” she says.
Every year, in the UK, about 2,700 people have treatment with the help of
a donor, according to the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority.
And yet the UK’s Donor Conception Network (DCN) , the UK’s main support
organisation, says it has known only “a handful” of cases where British
families are in contact from early in the child’s life. The 70,000 members
of the Donor Sibling Registry come from 135 countries, and include about
1,000 UK families. “We created the DSR so parents, donors and off spring
could make mutual consent contact,” says founder Wendy Kramer , herself
