Latest news with #spermdonor
Telegraph
4 days ago
- Health
- Telegraph
Babies could have four parents after DNA breakthrough - it's a scientific triumph for Britain
It is said it takes a village to raise a child, but under an astonishing new IVF technique, it may take four people to conceive one. This week, scientists announced that eight healthy babies had been born in Britain using the DNA of a 'second mother' to repair damage in their mitochondrial DNA – a tiny part of the genetic code which powers the cells. The procedure involves fertilising an egg and transplanting its nuclear DNA into a second fertilised donor egg that has healthy mitochondria. Nuclear DNA is the important part of a human that contains all the information which makes us who we are, so the technique is rather like changing a defective battery. In the majority of cases, the baby's father fertilises both eggs. But experts admitted this week that, on occasion, the egg donor is related to the father, so a sperm donor must be found to fertilise the donor egg to avoid incestuous complications. It means that two men and two women could now be involved in a child's conception.
Telegraph
30-06-2025
- General
- Telegraph
At 41, I found out I was the child of a sperm donor, not my dad
All names have been changed I have a vivid memory of myself at eight, sitting on the riverbank and fishing with my dad. It's a moment that always made me feel safe – the security that comes from being with a parent who loved you and made you who you are. But last year I stared at an email from a stranger, read the words ' sperm donor ', and that memory, along with so many others, shattered. If what she had written was true, then he wasn't my biological father at all. At 41, the foundation of my world seemed to crumble away. I had always idolised my dad, an engineer who taught me how to canoe and camp. I knew he spoilt me more than my younger brother, Adam, and sister, Sophie, but I ignored their teasing that I was a 'daddy's girl'. I wore the label with pride. My relationship with Mum was more complicated. I never felt her unconditional love, and after their acrimonious divorce when I was 17, her attempt to forbid me to see Dad hurt. I ignored her and she was furious, a pattern that played out for years. Unlike my siblings, who could see Mum without incident, every conversation we had ended in an argument. Still, I couldn't bear to cut ties completely. Even at 26, married and a mother myself, we were never far from a row. One day, as she criticised Dad and I defended him, she snapped, 'He's not your dad anyway!' I knew it wasn't true but was appalled at the lengths she'd go to hurt me. He was my dad, and I'd never abandon him. When I lost him to cancer five years later, I was devastated. A revelation over dinner So, it was strange to be sitting with Mum at dinner in 2024, after years of sporadic contact. Stranger yet, we were smiling and laughing rather than fighting. Then she said, 'Do you remember our argument years ago, when I said that Dad wasn't your dad? Well, we used a sperm donor to have you.' I sat frozen, looking in shock as she continued, 'I just thought that you should know.' Struggling to breathe, it was impossible to process what I was hearing. How their GP had recommended sperm donation after they had struggled for years to conceive. That Adam and Sophie had then been conceived naturally, making them my half-siblings. Surely, it's all lies, I thought for the 100th time. I couldn't bear to contemplate what it meant if it wasn't. I found the Donor Conceived UK (DCUK) Facebook group, and read about those who had discovered, just as I had, that they had been lied to. Many called that moment an NPE or 'non-parental event'. Desperate for more information, I turned to Mum, who seemed annoyed at my persistence. She'd told me the truth, she replied, why didn't I just leave it now? But that was impossible. I bought a DNA test, desperately hoping it would lead me to someone who could tell me more. As the weeks ticked painfully by, I spoke to my siblings, who, to my shock, didn't think Mum's claims were a big deal. I should have been happy their love for me remained unchanged. Instead, I felt even more alone. The quiet times were the worst, when my questions came unbidden and refused to leave. Did it matter if Dad and I hadn't been connected by blood? Was my conception the reason he doted on me more than Sophie and Adam, his attempt to compensate somehow? I kept running through my memories, looking for clues. It was exhausting and got me no closer to answers. I started to feel like I was losing my mind. Unravelling the mystery with a DNA test Five endless weeks later, I was staring at my test results, the page linking me to any other users who shared my DNA. Right at the top, with the highest percentage match, was the name Joanne. Without even thinking I clicked the message button and began typing. 'Hi, I've just done this DNA test and see we have a high match. I'm just wondering how we're connected?' Before I could even think, the reply came. 'You probably want to speak to your parents about this. But the reason we're connected is because they would have used a sperm donor.' Two thoughts hit me at once. Mum had been telling the truth, and this was my sister. Joanne was farther advanced in her search to find out the truth about her parentage – and so it fell to her to explain the situation whenever a new half-sibling found their way to the same DNA site and got tested. Our messages flew back and forth, each one revealing a new shocking piece of information. There were four more siblings who knew they had been conceived through the same donor. We all had an aunt called Hannah, who Joanne had also found through the same DNA testing site. She had been given permission to share medical information and some personal details about her brother Robert, our donor. Joanne even sent me Hannah's email and a link to some info about Robert, although at this stage Hannah is not allowed to share his personal contact details. One click, and there was my biological father's face. Overwhelmed with everything I'd discovered, I closed the page. For my own sanity I needed to catch my breath. At risk of accidental incest I should have been pleased. The DCUK support group was full of stories of people searching for years without any answers, or whose newly discovered relatives refused to see them. On paper this was the best possible outcome. But without the distraction of waiting for my DNA results, the shred of hope that it hadn't been true, it all hit me. Dad wasn't my biological father – and with that certainty some part of my identity fell away. When I tried to talk to Mum about what I had discovered, she simply ended the call. In frustration I sent her a picture of the donor, despite knowing that to see the face of the stranger who fathered her own child would be hard. I was furious at her denial at what was happening to me. I struggled to sleep or eat and couldn't concentrate at work. I would walk down the street, scanning stranger's faces; wondering if they were my biological relatives. By keeping my conception a secret, I had been at risk of accidental incest. The thought made me shudder. My grief for Dad returned in waves, followed by a question of whether I should even be grieving when he wasn't my biological father. Then I felt guilty that I had even thought that, and realised how much emotional turmoil I was in. The DCUK community saved me with both their online forums and their help in accessing counselling. In those sessions I realised I was allowed to be angry at both my parents for keeping my conception a secret. If I had been told as a child, if it had been normalised as part of my developing identity, maybe I wouldn't be struggling so badly now. Meeting my relations Counselling also helped me see that I wanted to meet my new relatives, despite my fear of rejection. Which is how I found myself sitting in a coffee shop with Hannah. Her genuine joy calmed my nerves, and for two hours we talked. She spoke about Robert, how he had donated as a medical student to help couples. Now happily married, he had chosen not to have children of his own. Hearing her sisterly pride, clearly wanting me to feel the same, I guiltily thought of Dad. Would he have minded me looking through Hannah's family photos, seeing a nose or brow she thought I shared? When Hannah spoke about how clever Robert was, I thought of my own childhood nickname, 'the clever one'. Did Dad know it was a doctor who had fathered me? I felt a rush of confusion and sadness to think I had never know the answers. A month later I was hugging Joanne, who had received my text asking if we could meet and immediately invited me to stay. That made me smile, as it was exactly how I would have responded. I didn't see a physical resemblance, but when I told her I was starting an assessment for ADHD she said that her daughter was neurodiverse. With each new meet-up, text or chat, our bond grew, and I felt my shattered identity piecing back together. Moving forward I would love to say that a year on from our dinner, my relationship with Mum has healed. Sadly, that hasn't happened. I suspect that it was fear that made her keep my donor conception a secret in my childhood, and fear that prevents her speaking openly about it now. And as long as she continues to do that, it's impossible for us to move forward. My feelings for Robert remain complicated. He isn't my father, and I don't want or expect anything from him. But when Hannah told me that he's visiting the UK later this year, it did make me wonder. Would I want to meet him? I'm trying not to put too much pressure on myself to decide anything right now, while he is considering whether or not he wants to meet us. As for Dad, I no longer scour my memories for clues to a mystery that will never be solved. I will never know how he felt about my conception, or how he would react to my knowing about it now. But I can finally think of that little girl fishing with her dad and smile. I've found peace in the knowledge that love can be based on something stronger than biology. Whatever my DNA results page says, he will always be my dad.
Yahoo
30-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
At 41, I found out I was the child of a sperm donor, not my dad
All names have been changed I have a vivid memory of myself at eight, sitting on the riverbank and fishing with my dad. It's a moment that always made me feel safe – the security that comes from being with a parent who loved you and made you who you are. But last year I stared at an email from a stranger, read the words 'sperm donor', and that memory, along with so many others, shattered. If what she had written was true, then he wasn't my biological father at all. At 41, the foundation of my world seemed to crumble away. I had always idolised my dad, an engineer who taught me how to canoe and camp. I knew he spoilt me more than my younger brother, Adam, and sister, Sophie, but I ignored their teasing that I was a 'daddy's girl'. I wore the label with pride. My relationship with Mum was more complicated. I never felt her unconditional love, and after their acrimonious divorce when I was 17, her attempt to forbid me to see Dad hurt. I ignored her and she was furious, a pattern that played out for years. Unlike my siblings, who could see Mum without incident, every conversation we had ended in an argument. Still, I couldn't bear to cut ties completely. Even at 26, married and a mother myself, we were never far from a row. One day, as she criticised Dad and I defended him, she snapped, 'He's not your dad anyway!' I knew it wasn't true but was appalled at the lengths she'd go to hurt me. He was my dad, and I'd never abandon him. When I lost him to cancer five years later, I was devastated. So, it was strange to be sitting with Mum at dinner in 2024, after years of sporadic contact. Stranger yet, we were smiling and laughing rather than fighting. Then she said, 'Do you remember our argument years ago, when I said that Dad wasn't your dad? Well, we used a sperm donor to have you.' I sat frozen, looking in shock as she continued, 'I just thought that you should know.' Struggling to breathe, it was impossible to process what I was hearing. How their GP had recommended sperm donation after they had struggled for years to conceive. That Adam and Sophie had then been conceived naturally, making them my half-siblings. Surely, it's all lies, I thought for the 100th time. I couldn't bear to contemplate what it meant if it wasn't. I found the Donor Conceived UK (DCUK) Facebook group, and read about those who had discovered, just as I had, that they had been lied to. Many called that moment an NPE or 'non-parental event'. Desperate for more information, I turned to Mum, who seemed annoyed at my persistence. She'd told me the truth, she replied, why didn't I just leave it now? But that was impossible. I bought a DNA test, desperately hoping it would lead me to someone who could tell me more. As the weeks ticked painfully by, I spoke to my siblings, who, to my shock, didn't think Mum's claims were a big deal. I should have been happy their love for me remained unchanged. Instead, I felt even more alone. The quiet times were the worst, when my questions came unbidden and refused to leave. Did it matter if Dad and I hadn't been connected by blood? Was my conception the reason he doted on me more than Sophie and Adam, his attempt to compensate somehow? I kept running through my memories, looking for clues. It was exhausting and got me no closer to answers. I started to feel like I was losing my mind. Five endless weeks later, I was staring at my test results, the page linking me to any other users who shared my DNA. Right at the top, with the highest percentage match, was the name Joanne. Without even thinking I clicked the message button and began typing. 'Hi, I've just done this DNA test and see we have a high match. I'm just wondering how we're connected?' Before I could even think, the reply came. 'You probably want to speak to your parents about this. But the reason we're connected is because they would have used a sperm donor.' Two thoughts hit me at once. Mum had been telling the truth, and this was my sister. Joanne was farther advanced in her search to find out the truth about her parentage – and so it fell to her to explain the situation whenever a new half-sibling found their way to the same DNA site and got tested. Our messages flew back and forth, each one revealing a new shocking piece of information. There were four more siblings who knew they had been conceived through the same donor. We all had an aunt called Hannah, who Joanne had also found through the same DNA testing site. She had been given permission to share medical information and some personal details about her brother Robert, our donor. Joanne even sent me Hannah's email and a link to some info about Robert, although at this stage Hannah is not allowed to share his personal contact details. One click, and there was my biological father's face. Overwhelmed with everything I'd discovered, I closed the page. For my own sanity I needed to catch my breath. I should have been pleased. The DCUK support group was full of stories of people searching for years without any answers, or whose newly discovered relatives refused to see them. On paper this was the best possible outcome. But without the distraction of waiting for my DNA results, the shred of hope that it hadn't been true, it all hit me. Dad wasn't my biological father – and with that certainty some part of my identity fell away. When I tried to talk to Mum about what I had discovered, she simply ended the call. In frustration I sent her a picture of the donor, despite knowing that to see the face of the stranger who fathered her own child would be hard. I was furious at her denial at what was happening to me. I struggled to sleep or eat and couldn't concentrate at work. I would walk down the street, scanning stranger's faces; wondering if they were my biological relatives. By keeping my conception a secret, I had been at risk of accidental incest. The thought made me shudder. My grief for Dad returned in waves, followed by a question of whether I should even be grieving when he wasn't my biological father. Then I felt guilty that I had even thought that, and realised how much emotional turmoil I was in. The DCUK community saved me with both their online forums and their help in accessing counselling. In those sessions I realised I was allowed to be angry at both my parents for keeping my conception a secret. If I had been told as a child, if it had been normalised as part of my developing identity, maybe I wouldn't be struggling so badly now. Counselling also helped me see that I wanted to meet my new relatives, despite my fear of rejection. Which is how I found myself sitting in a coffee shop with Hannah. Her genuine joy calmed my nerves, and for two hours we talked. She spoke about Robert, how he had donated as a medical student to help couples. Now happily married, he had chosen not to have children of his own. Hearing her sisterly pride, clearly wanting me to feel the same, I guiltily thought of Dad. Would he have minded me looking through Hannah's family photos, seeing a nose or brow she thought I shared? When Hannah spoke about how clever Robert was, I thought of my own childhood nickname, 'the clever one'. Did Dad know it was a doctor who had fathered me? I felt a rush of confusion and sadness to think I had never know the answers. A month later I was hugging Joanne, who had received my text asking if we could meet and immediately invited me to stay. That made me smile, as it was exactly how I would have responded. I didn't see a physical resemblance, but when I told her I was starting an assessment for ADHD she said that her daughter was neurodiverse. With each new meet-up, text or chat, our bond grew, and I felt my shattered identity piecing back together. I would love to say that a year on from our dinner, my relationship with Mum has healed. Sadly, that hasn't happened. I suspect that it was fear that made her keep my donor conception a secret in my childhood, and fear that prevents her speaking openly about it now. And as long as she continues to do that, it's impossible for us to move forward. My feelings for Robert remain complicated. He isn't my father, and I don't want or expect anything from him. But when Hannah told me that he's visiting the UK later this year, it did make me wonder. Would I want to meet him? I'm trying not to put too much pressure on myself to decide anything right now, while he is considering whether or not he wants to meet us. As for Dad, I no longer scour my memories for clues to a mystery that will never be solved. I will never know how he felt about my conception, or how he would react to my knowing about it now. But I can finally think of that little girl fishing with her dad and smile. I've found peace in the knowledge that love can be based on something stronger than biology. Whatever my DNA results page says, he will always be my dad. See Donor Conceived UK for more details As told to Kate Graham Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
The Sun
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Sun
I've given birth after my unique baby news left men stunned – I have no regrets
A MUM has told how giving birth is a doddle when you do it without the dad. Model Heather McCartney, 36, welcomed her second child last week after opting to use a sperm donor. 3 3 3 The single parent received stick from men who branded her desperate because she wouldn't entertain a new relationship. But Heather, who left Ayrshire for Australia, was ecstatic as she welcomed her daughter exactly a decade after she beat cancer. She said: 'I had a planned C-section and no partner there. "But my mum came all the way from Scotland to be with me, which made all the difference. 'Having a team of supportive women around, including the medical staff, felt really empowering and reassuring. 'I'm glad I did it that way—it felt right for me. "As for offers to be the dad, I've had a few messages. "But I'm just taking things as they come and enjoying this new chapter.' Heather decided to put on make-up and give herself a glam look so she could take some special selfies after giving birth. She received lots of compliments afterwards from folk who thought she looked incredible considering what she'd just endured. The blonde pin-up added: 'My C-section was calm and smooth. 'So I felt pretty relaxed afterward. People mentioned I was glowing, which was really kind. 'But honestly, I was just happy everything went well. 'Feeling sexy wasn't really on my mind yet—more like taking it one day at a time. 'People will always love a MILF, so I'm happy to embrace that with a smile.'
CNN
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CNN
Twins' mysterious deaths, middle age weight loss, summer TV preview: Catch up on the day's stories
👋 Welcome to 5 Things PM! Losing weight in middle age could set you up for a longer and healthier life, a new study found. The benefits include a lower risk of chronic diseases and death. Here's what else you might have missed during your busy day: 1️⃣ Mystery solved: Twin 19-year-old brothers Qaadir and Naazir Lewis were found shot to death at the remote summit of a mountain in northern Georgia. Their deaths baffled the close-knit family for months, but police now say they know what happened. 2️⃣ 'A major issue': A sperm donor with a rare genetic mutation fathered 67 children, and now 10 of them have been diagnosed with cancer. Advocates say there's a need for greater regulation and a limit on the number of births allowed from a single donor. 3️⃣ You snooze, you lose? When jolted awake by a blaring alarm clock, it's tempting to reach for the snooze button. 'Just five more minutes' is practically a morning mantra. But you could be silently sabotaging your shut-eye. Experts explain the pros and cons. 4️⃣ What to watch: With the dog days of summer approaching, our entertainment team rounded up the best new series and movies coming to a TV screen near you, including a drama from the creator of 'Succession' and an Adam Sandler comedy sequel. 5️⃣ Gone viral: Archie and Miles Shephard used to work together as salesmen in a lumber yard. Now they're social media stars known for their high-energy and hilarious interpretations of some of the most dramatic moments in sports. GET '5 THINGS' IN YOUR INBOX CNN's 5 Things newsletter is your one-stop shop for the latest headlines and fascinating stories to start and end your busy day. Sign up here. 💥 Big boom: A home security camera captured the moment a box truck exploded while passing through a residential neighborhood in Addison, Illinois. The driver walked away with only minor injuries. • RFK Jr. says Covid-19 shot will no longer be recommended for healthy children and pregnant women• Trump considers new sanctions on Russia as he grows more furious with Putin• NPR sues Trump over executive order to cut funding 🇩🇰 That's about to be the new retirement age in Denmark, and it's the highest in Europe. 🧀 Hole-y rollers: It's been described as the world's most dangerous race, and it's certainly one of the most ridiculous — people tumbling down a steep hill in pursuit of a wheel of Double Gloucester cheese. Contestants explain why it's so thrilling. This chapter is over. The story? Still being written. Thanks to all. Cristiano Ronaldo ⚽ What's next? The Portuguese soccer star threw his future into doubt with a cryptic message on social media after scoring his 25th goal on the final day of the Saudi Pro League season. 📖 Whose voice narrates the audiobook version of first lady Melania Trump's memoir?A. Megyn KellyB. Barron TrumpC. Morgan FreemanD. Her own voice using AI⬇️ Scroll down for the answer. 🐼 Cute overload: Hong Kong's first locally born baby pandas — affectionately known as 'Elder Sister' and 'Little Brother' — finally have actual names after a contest that drew more than 35,000 entries. Take a look. 👋 We'll see you tomorrow. 🧠 Quiz answer: D. The first lady said her memoir is narrated 'entirely using artificial intelligence in my own voice.'📧 Check out all of CNN's newsletters. 5 Things PM is produced by CNN's Chris Good, Meghan Pryce, Kimberly Richardson and Morgan Severson.
