The recent case of a Californian who came forward after reading an article about two girls who were conceived using his sperm is far from unique in the US, writes Dan Glaister
The likeness is striking. The man and the young woman share the same high forehead, their noses are similar, even their hair and build have more than a little in common. They might pass for father and daughter. But there are things they do not share. Before this week, they had never met. The man, Jeffrey Harrison, lives with his four dogs in a motor home parked on the street in Venice, California. The woman, Ryann M, is a teenager in a settled family.
Now they know a lot more about each other. They know that they are father and daughter, that Ryann was conceived thanks to sperm donated by Harrison in the 1980s. They also know Ryann is one of six half-siblings, and that Mr Harrison may need to get a larger home.
"It's pretty obvious that he's their father," said Wendy Kramer, whose website put Harrison and his offspring in touch. "I looked at the picture and went, 'Oh my God'." Mr Harrison's response to meeting his offspring for the first time was equally prosaic. "The first thing he said was, 'Holy moly'," 17-year-old Danielle Pagano, another of Harrison's children, told the New York Times after meeting him this week.
"He's sort of a free spirit, and I don't care what career he has. I got to talk to his dogs." While three of Harrison's offspring have been very active in tracking him down, two of them, in their early teens, still do not know of his existence.
Harrison decided to come forward after reading a newspaper article about two teenage girls who had found out they were conceived using his sperm and were trying to find him. The article made him "choke on his coffee".
He had visited California Cryobank in the 1980s, being paid the equivalent of €38-€76 a sample, which was labelled simply Donor 150. He had also proffered a very desirable profile and was one of the sperm bank's most requested donors. However, reading the description of himself may have led his newly found children to conjure up an image slightly at odds with his 2007 persona.
"Degree in philosophy from Europe," reads the description of Donor 150. "Dancer, musician, fitness instructor and writer. Protestant. Interests: health, guitar, swimming, dancing, writing, travel. Loves animals and children, calls himself 'happy-go-lucky'." Two of Harrison's offspring got in touch with each other through the Donor Sibling Registry, the website set up by Kramer three years ago, which currently has 7,394 members, including 430 donors who are willing to be found. Soon a third joined them.
At the weekend, Harrison e-mailed a copy of his birth certificate to Kramer, confirming his identity as Donor 150. "We talked for hours on Saturday night," Kramer said. "It was a very big risk for him. He wanted to make the connection but was a little bit nervous and afraid." The same day, Kramer contacted the families. "[ I] told them to take their time and to take it slow. I guess they ignored my advice. They were all very excited and by the next day everybody was conference calling." Kramer is confident that the offspring - who sometimes refer to themselves as "half-adopted" or "lopsided" - will get along with their biological father. "He's a simple man and he lives a very simple life," she said. "For these girls they could care less about his status or his money. He's a very gentle soul, he's very kind, very sweet and open, with a great sense of humour."
The extended family has now retreated from the media, opting to spend the next week getting to know each other.
WHILE THIS STORY is notable, it is far from unique, and forms part of an untracked phenomenon in the US, where there is little regulation of sperm donations. Nobody knows whether a donor's sperm is used to conceive a child, or how many children are conceived from each donor.
On Wednesday alone this week, two donor fathers were put in touch with their offspring through the Donor Sibling Registry. In a typical month, the website puts 60-80 people in touch with each other, says Kramer. One of the donors listed on the website has 50 offspring; another recently came forward to acknowledge his 22 children.
The sperm bank industry estimates that 30,000 children are conceived each year from donated sperm. A spike in sperm donations in the mid-1980s means that many donor-conceived children are now coming of age and are seeking answers about their parentage.
"If I ran a sperm bank I would surely be talking about self-regulation, before it is forced," says Kramer. "It's just a question of doing the right thing. Nobody's asked the question here that has been asked in country after country, in Europe and elsewhere: in going forward, what is in the best interests of the child? They have considered the interests of the sperm bank, the parents and the industry, but not the children. Even now, sperm banks and medical professionals are counselling parents to keep it secret. It can be devastating.
"This is all about redefining the family," she says. "We're strangers but we're very much connected."