Roger Clarke, 74, has spent a lot of time considering what should go in his time capsule.
So far he’s chosen photos of himself throughout his life, and snapshots of the places he’s
lived and of course, his family. A creative man with a background in advertising, Roger
imagines he’ll create a video. He’s still mulling over what he would put in it. It’s hard to
know what your children will want to know about you, when you’ve never met them.
“I imagine the video would have images of things I like to do, like cycling and hiking; the
voluntary work I do,” Clarke explains. But the most important part of the video, he says,
will be explaining to the child he’s never met, why he became a sperm donor.
A lost generation
These days, the business of sperm donation is controlled and regulated. Detailed
records are kept of donors and their recipients, and when they turn 18, donor-
conceived kids have access to information about their donor. But it wasn’t always the
case.
Back in the 1970s and 80s, at the dawn of IVF in Australia, little thought was given to
the importance of kids knowing about their donors. Donors were often recruited and if
records were kept at all, they were often scant.
“At the time sperm donation was a highly taboo, highly secretive subject,” explains
Clarke. “It was never talked about. Parents of donor-conceived children, the medical
profession and even the donors themselves went along with donor anonymity. As a
donor back then I thought it unlikely I'd ever meet my offspring.”
The result is a generation of Australian donors who know little or nothing about their
offspring, and donor-conceived kids, now adults, searching for their donors with very
little to go on.
To deal with this, most states have set up voluntary registers where donors and their
offspring can leave their details, and hopefully be matched. Problem is, both parties
need to register. The chances of a donor finding his offspring is made even slimmer
when you consider that many donor-conceived kids haven’t been told about their
conception.
And with many donors now in their 70s, time is running out.
Time capsules for sperm donors
Now, an agency in Melbourne has begun offering donors ‘time capsules’, in which
donors can put relics, letters and even videos that donors may want to give their
offspring.
According to the Victorian Assisted Reproductive Treatment Authority (VARTA), the
organisation that developed The Legacy Project, it may not sound like much of
consolation, but it will mean the world to a person who tracks down their biological
father only to find they are too late.
“Many donors are aging or may be unwell, and so may not be alive when their offspring
apply for information,” explains VARTA’s Donor Registers Service Manager, Kate
Bourne.
“By documenting information or creating a legacy, offspring will be able to have a better
understanding of their donor and this may help them to know more about where they
have come from.”
The Legacy Project was created for VARTA by Chloe Allworthy, a donor-conceived
woman, in consultation with donor-conceived people from around Australia.
In the 1980s Roger Clarke donated regularly for two years, at the former Prince Henry’s
Hospital in Melbourne.
Clarke’s wife had told him about an interview she heard on ABC radio discussing the
need for sperm donors, and they were both touched by the plight of childless couples
and wanted to help.
The hospital kept records, and Clarke was told he had five offspring. Two of those have
contacted him, and Clarke is thrilled. He has an ongoing relationship with them and
their families, and has even introduced them to each other. He insists that this has been
very positive for everyone.
But there are three more out there, and Clarke doesn’t want to leave them with
unanswered questions.
The three questions donors are always asked
Clarke has seen how important it has been for his donor-conceived kids to able to meet
him and ask him questions.
He also knows exactly what donors will ask, having already been asked twice.
“The first thing they want to know is, medical threats,” he says. “Have people in your
family died from heart attacks, that kind of thing.
“Then they ask about your interests and ability in regard to science and the arts. I’m
artistic and hopeless at maths, and one of my offspring is an artist; she paints. It’s a
relief to her to know where that comes from.
“The other thing they ask, which people find surprising, is around the issue of personal
relationships. How you get along with people; conflict resolution. Do you negotiate, do
you fly off the handle?”
Roger says ideally he would love to meet his other three offspring, but if that’s not
possible, he believes the time capsule will capture what they need to know. “It’s about
explaining who I am,’ he says. “So they can understand better who they are.”
Comments