You can choose your friends, not your

Identity is what one makes of themselves. Unfortunately the word itself seems to have become a metaphorically overused label.

I shall only speak for myself.

To all who are donor conceived,

Please know however you came into the world, you were desperately wanted.

After trying to conceive “naturally,” naively certain that “it” would happen on our first “try” our story changed. Our “child” was no longer going to be conceived in a romantic foreign land. Our “child” was no longer going to be conceived in our own land. In the ensuing months and years, our “child” was no longer going to be conceived in our own home.

Our “child” was going to be conceived in a lab, and returned to me in an operating room. Our “child” was removed from me in an operating room seven weeks later. She had never developed a heart beat. Many months later our “child” was going to be conceived in lab and returned to me in an operating room. Our child was removed from me seven weeks later. She too had not developed a heart beat.”

One night as I was walking home I heard screams that could make one’s “blood curdle.” I was unfazed by the noise consumed by my own noise, the noise of hopelessness pummeling my head. As I continued to walk the screaming became louder, and louder…followed by the sound of a young boy’s gasp for air after a blow to his groin. My blood began to boil. Right there before my eyes stood woman pounding her son, pulling his little limbs in an effort to cross the street towards the empty park. The boy clearly did not want to cross the street hurling his body to the ground screaming, “NO MOMMA PLEASE!”

I stopped. My body filling with rage, debating whether to say something…”STOP IT!” I yelled.

The woman fiercely responded, “Mind your own damn business!”

“Stop hurting him!” I yelled.

The woman looked at me strait in the eye, “he’s my son, I can do what I f****** want!”

Seething with fury I glared back at her, “At least you can have ONE!”

Two months later I was matched with my anonymous donor. Three weeks later our child was conceived, and thirty nine weeks later she was born.

She is loved more than anything in the world. She knows that we do not share the same genes, and I am her BIOLOGICAL mother. I know soon she will want to inquire about her genes as do I. Whilst it may be for different reasons at least I hope to know so I can be there for her, as her mom.

No one is perfect. The “perfect family” does not exist. Should you find them, please introduce me.