Guest Post: Both Sides of the Vial
Menno Hofman on being a donor-conceived and a donor
What happens when a donor-conceived person becomes a donor themselves? Our guest writer has lived on both sides of that experience and, in doing so, stumbled upon a question research hasn’t yet asked. The Netherlands has one of the more developed regulatory frameworks for donor conception in the world. They abolished anonymous donation in 2004, established a government-funded national registry, and allow donor-conceived people to access identifying donor information at age 16. Donors are expected to limit their contributions to no more than 12 families (previously 25), though enforcement has proven imperfect as high-profile cases of mass donation have made clear in recent years.
Dual Citizens: On Being Donor Conceived and Becoming a Donor
by Menno Hofman
During my final year of high school, donor conception came up briefly in Religious Education, one topic among many around sexuality. I thought about donor conception in an abstract way, convinced I knew nobody directly affected. A donor helps intended parents become parents, which I considered generous and in alignment with my progressive Christian faith. We are called to help those in need in many stories in the Bible. Donating sperm seemed like something similar. I also knew this would only be true if it would not harm others. So I imagined how I would feel if I were donor conceived. I thought I would be happy to be wanted and not particularly interested in the donor. But I also recognized that some donor-conceived people might feel differently, so I concluded it would be better, as a donor, to be open to contact. I decided then that I wanted to become a sperm donor.
That may sound like a premature plan, but I’ve always thought ahead. At the end of primary school, I chose my high school partly because it offered yoga in the third year, which I did. In my fourth year, I read loads about DNA and knew I wanted to study Biotechnology at Wageningen, which I did. I was fully aware that becoming an ID-release donor would be a lifelong commitment, and I talked openly with my mother and sister about my decision.
For my Dutch language exam, we had to discuss an article, and I chose one about the anticipated shortage of sperm donors caused by the transition to ID-release-only donation. Before I could discuss that article with my teacher, my mother called a family meeting. My sister, my aunt, and I gathered. I didn’t know what it was about, and my mother told us that my sister and I were donor conceived from an anonymous donor. I was stunned. It was heart-wrenching to see her cry. The weight of the long-kept secret and her fear of our reaction were visible all at once.
As it turned out, I had predicted my own reaction fairly well. I did feel positive about being donor conceived, and I was not drawn to find the donor. My donor contributed 50% of my DNA, but that doesn’t automatically translate into a relational connection. I’ve come to realize that the definitions of parenthood are many, and he doesn’t meet my personal criteria for what a father is. My interest in DNA has always been scientific, not relational. This is simply how I feel, though I found it surprisingly difficult to explain to others. Research has not yet determined why some donor-conceived people feel a longing to connect with their donor, and others don’t. In my case, I simply don’t feel that longing. My mother’s revelation did, however, plant the seed of my aversion to secrecy.
Three Donors, One Clinic
Between deciding I wanted to become a donor and finding out I was donor conceived myself: two weeks. I shared both my donor conception origins and my plans of wanting to become a sperm donor with the rest of my family. For me, being donor conceived was not a reason to change plans.
I did wonder whether it would be possible to become a donor without knowing my own donor’s identity. Since he had gone through screening himself, I had some indirect knowledge of his medical history — but would that be enough? When I returned to the article on donor shortages to prepare for my exam, I felt more certain than ever knowing I would help people like my own parents. So, after I turned 18 in 2000, I went to the AMC (now Amsterdam UMC) to begin the process.
During the screening, I told them I was donor conceived. They said it was fine — and that I was the first person with such a story ever to come to their clinic. I felt genuinely unique.
But I am not unique at all.
Since then, I’ve found at least two other donors at that same clinic who are also donor conceived, both through a Facebook group. Our stories share similarities, but one crucial difference stands out: when we each found out.
Ties van der Meer, chairman of Stichting Donorkind, a Dutch foundation for donor-conceived people, learned he was donor conceived as a child and later chose to become a sperm donor himself, following in the path of his genetic father. For him, being donor conceived was part of his motivation to donate.
I found out just after I had decided to donate, so when I came to the clinic, I could provide accurate health information, but my donor conception status played no role in my original decision.
A third person donated at the AMC during the era of anonymous donation and only discovered he was donor conceived when he did a DNA test to make himself findable to his own donor children. Because he hadn’t known, he had unwittingly given the clinic incomplete health information.
Three donors at one relatively small clinic in one small country. That strongly suggests I am not unusual. More must be out there. Some of them are still unaware they are donor conceived.
This matters, and not only in the abstract. When donor-conceived people don’t know their origins, they may provide inaccurate medical histories and incorrect ethnic backgrounds to clinics. Given the higher number of offspring per donor compared to natural conception, this increases consanguinity risk: a recipient could, for instance, be donor conceived from the same donor as the donor themselves. To manage this risk, it may sometimes be necessary for a donor-conceived donor to donate in a different region, or for clinics to exchange gametes across regions. These precautions are only possible when the donor knows their own origins. And ideally, they would know not just that they are donor conceived, but also the identity of their donor.
A Question Worth Studying
To allow meaningful contact between donor and donor conceived, and between half siblings, requires reasonable limits on the number of offspring per donor. To do so while continuing to treat the same number of patients, requires recruiting more donors. Donor-conceived people could play a role in this!
In my small clinic, at least three donors were also donor conceived. This makes me wonder: what is it that draws donor-conceived people toward becoming donors? And when they do, would they be more likely to be open about it with their families and more open to early contact? Would this be genetically determined? Or could it be that donor-conceived people are somehow raised differently, that families who used donor conception communicate values around altruism and gratitude in ways that orient children toward donation, even without full disclosure? We don’t yet know. The questions themselves are worth taking seriously and studying. Scientific research on the motivations of sperm and egg donors who are themselves donor conceived could help inform more thoughtful and ethical donor outreach.
If we want to avoid the harms of mass donation and still meet the need for donors, recruitment is of the utmost importance. At the same time, especially when donor-conceived people become donors themselves, it is important that this is done safely and ethically, ensuring that the number of genetically closely related people does not become too large, particularly within a specific region.
So no, I am not unique as a donor who is also donor conceived. And that provides opportunities. It also shows that donor conceived people do not remain children. After being conceived in a special way, we grow up and become adults, just like naturally conceived children. And when we do, some of us may need a donor to fulfill our own desire to have a child and some of us will become donors ourselves.
Paraphrasing My Own Profile
I did DNA ancestry testing to give the next generation — my donor children — information about their genetic grandfather (my donor) and the option to find me. I have since found a half-brother through MyHeritage, and together we identified our donor. When I read his profile and the way he describes being open to contact, while leaving the timing entirely up to the donor conceived, it was as if someone had paraphrased my own donor profile. It felt impossible that this was coincidence. But although it feels that way, it isn’t scientifically established. I’ve heard from several donors that they share this way of thinking. Perhaps there is something there — genetic, relational, or something we don’t yet have language for.
We exchanged brief messages through Fiom, which is a not-for-profit organization subsidized by the government to facilitate contact between donors and donor conceived. I still don’t feel a personal longing for deeper contact. And, despite the fact that most of my donor children are likely now over 16, none have initiated contact. If and when they do, I will welcome them with open arms. As an ID-release donor, I have prepared my family for future contact, including my children at home. Being open to contact is a moral commitment I made when I chose to donate as an ID-release donor, but it could also enrich my life as well!
Menno Hofman is a quality assurance specialist, regularly preaches in different churches, and has a special interest in donor conception. He is a genetic father through his donations, and he has his own three kids, with Levi being named after Dr. Levie, the doctor who helped his parents.
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