A Cell’s Journey

Once the baby is born, parents can turn away from the medical aspects of the donation and pregnancy to the emotionally delicate issue of explaining to their child how he or she came into being. If that’s a fact they wish to disclose at all.

The psychologist at NYU, Dr. Schiffman, recommends that parents tell their children young, “to prevent surprise,” she said. “It keeps it from becoming a secret.”

That’s exactly what the Grossmans did, telling Josh “from the day he was born” about his unique conception. Lisa said her son is intrigued and accepting of his origin, even if he doesn’t yet completely grasp how he was conceived. “It’s still hard for a 9 year old to understand, but he asks fabulous questions, like why would someone do this and not even tell you her name?” Lisa said.

Josh even asks to attend meetings on egg donation where Lisa shares her story with others. He’s too young to join her, she said, but may someday. Josh also joined a children’s theater program when he was five, perhaps displaying a talent inherited from his genetic mother, the young acting student. Lisa and Mike themselves never had an interest in acting.

Like the Grossmans, Tavor told her son how he was conceived when he was very young, around three years old. But the women feel wildly different about their sons possibly contacting the donors someday.

Lisa’s only regret, in fact, is that her son can’t have access to his genetic mother-yet. If the law changes and allows retroactive contact, and the donor indicated on her application that she is amenable to it, Josh will be able to contact her once he is 18. But until and unless these conditions are met, they are unknowns to each other.

“If I knew then what I know now, I probably would have done an open program, because it’s his right,” Lisa Grossman said. “But see, that’s the mother talking.” An open program would have allowed Josh to have access to his biological mother from birth forward. NYU’s program allows women the option of bringing their own donors or having one selected anonymously for them.

Lisa wasn’t always so comfortable with the idea of egg donation, however. It took her a year to even agree to try it. At the time, she was 39 and coping with the disappointment of a failed in vitro fertility procedure; her eggs were too old, so a donor egg became a possibility. At first she wasn’t interested, but she reached the turning point only when she re-evaluated her view of herself.

“In thinking about the decision to do this,” she said, “I realized that the way I defined myself was not so much by my genetic makeup but was by the ways I felt, and those were things I could pass on to a baby and a child.”

Ruth Tavor swept her arm back and forth and her voice rose angrily when asked how she felt about the possibility of her son one day contacting the donor. “It will not happen,” she said. “People don’t get everything they want. Absolutely not. Gone with the wind, the chapter is closed. He is what I made him; that’s how I see it. I just needed an organ.”

It’s a thought that also haunts Hadar Cohen, but in a different way. Cohen said she now regrets donating, and lives with a sense of loss and longing that stems from knowing about the possibility of one child, or even more, that are carrying her genes. If she could contact her offspring, she said she probably would. “Now I see that the biological link is more meaningful than I had thought,” she admitted.

Her husband is not as emotionally invested in the outcome, but he lives with a practical worry about Hadar’s child or children showing up in 15 years. “I–I really don’t like to think about it,” Assaf stammered. “It’s something we had to do at the time because we were really pressed. For me, what bothers me is, am I responsible for this kid? I am married to [Hadar], the biological mother, so what does that make me? Am I a parent?”

The saga is not over for the families who, though ignorant of each other, are inexorably tied together through egg donation. What the families also share is an 18-year respite until the story may continue, with some in suspense, and some at peace with the future. It will be up to the children to decide how small or large a role their genes play in comprising their identities. The extent of their curiosity is likely to determine whether their biological mothers will appear in their lives.

“My guess is,” says Dr. Schiffman, “if the laws do change, there will be a retroactive aspect to it because the people that are going to lobby for change — if such a things actually does happen — are going to be young people who probably were the result of a donation 18 to 20 years earlier.”

If Josh Grossman does choose to pursue that donor in another nine years, Lisa doesn’t expect it to be the stab in the heart she once imagined, before she consented to having a baby with another woman’s egg. “Eleven years ago, I wouldn’t want that, but now I hope they do change the laws,” she said. “There’s no threat whatsoever. It could only be enhancing; no one is going to take him away.”

From her confident smile as she speaks, it’s clear that she is secure with her child and the process that brought him into being. “In an ideal world, it’s not something you would do,” she said. “When you’re dying to have a baby and you can’t, you surprise yourself with what you become accustomed to. But the baby couldn’t be more mine in every sense of the word.”

* With the exception of Ruth Tavor and Anna Osipov, the names of all egg donors, recipients and children in this article have been changed to protect their anonymity.