"But, doesn't that just defeat the purpose?"

As a woman who loves to learn, I enjoy television shows such as 60 minutes.

[As an aside, the result of this love of learning is that I know various random facts... remember Rosie Perez's character on "White Men Can't Jump"... foods that begin with the letter 'Q'... yeah, that's Pretty.]

This episode about an online registry of children created (formed? made?) when their mothers went to their local sperm banks and subsequently got artificially inseminated with the "specimens" proved to be most interesting.

The identities of donors are not disclosed in order for them (and the banks, I presume) to avoid liability. A donor number, however, is provided for general record keeping purposes. This website, created by a woman who bore a child formed with sperm from a bank, allows people to list their "fathers" by donor number and to provide contact information for their siblings to reach them. The result is a network of children born by way of donors identified only by a series of numbers and letters, where true-life long-lost brothers and sisters find each other, often later speaking, and sometimes even meeting and forming lasting relationships!

The owner of the site tracks when matches are made. I was shocked, and a little disgusted, when she revealed that the record-holding donor had TWENTY kids who had registered with the site. I was creeped out because I just cannot imagine a man going half on a baby... twenty times... and getting paid for it! The show also highlighted a man, now a doctor, who had provided over 200 specimens at $50 each, and who recently volunteered his contact information on the site. Not only is he currently married and expecting his first child, but he continues to make donations at the bank. When asked whether he could conceivably have "fathered" over 100 children in the world, he replied, "conceivably." :-

My very good friend, with whom I shared the gist of this episode, focusing on the part about the website, asked... "But, doesn't that just defeat the purpose?" I tend to think it does and will attempt to explain...

I realize that these donors provide a tremendous resource and therefore, I am not in any way negating their importance. However, when I think of going to a sperm bank to get specimen which I would use to be artificially inseminated, I do not suppose I would affiliate a face, let alone a body, to the donor. I think I would view the donor as a mere "tool" that assisted me in creating the baby that I wanted to make. Consequently, I also do not suppose I would envision that other babies, helped along the way by the same donor, would be my baby's brothers and sisters. In fact, (and perhaps this is a tad childish), I think I would view my child as a sole creation of my own; sort of like divine creation, but with science (forgive me, Father). Currently, though, there are a multitude of women who feel differently, as evidenced by the website's popularity.

According to statistics cited on the show, the majority of persons going to sperm banks in the past were married heterosexual couples who, for whatever reason, could not produce a child on their own. In those cases, I surmise, it was easy for the biological father's role to be wiped away, as these families included both a mother and a father, and therefore, (I am not condoning this behavior), the visit to the sperm bank did not have to be advertised to those outside the marriage. The couple could simply find a donor with similar characteristics to the husband and proceed as normal. (Oh, Sean, she looks just.like.you.)

However, as times have changed, the trend has become one where mostly single women or lesbian couples are lining up to choose the traits they want in a child and trekking to the sperm bank to try to find the perfect fit. (I want her to have curly hair and full lips!) In these situations, it is more difficult to explain away the origin of one's little bundle of joy. And, because a father, as well as his extended family, are lacking in these cases, mothers are deciding that they want their children to have something connecting them to the other half of their DNA. Therefore, these mothers of sperm bank siblings are insuring that their offspring at least know each other.

This is the lifeline of the aforementioned website, which, at the time of taping, had 7,000 people registered. I can only wonder how many matches will be made in the future. But, does the site just defeat the purpose?

So, Jasmine, when's lunch?

I thought I would share an amusing story (which some of you might understand) to lighten the mood after my last post. This is a long one, so try to keep up. And note, all names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike. ;-)

During a huge weekend here in town for African Americans, a young woman, let's call her Yasmin (pronounced Yaz-MEEN), went to her favorite spot to see and be seen (ladies, you KNOW how we do!) She daintily sat at the bar, sipping Riesling and viewing the sights. Eventually, Yasmin and her friend, Amaya, were accosted by a well-known professional male. He wedged himself into the area next to Amaya and introduced himself as PLG, after which he leaned over Amaya and extended his hand to meet Yasmin. It went a little something like this:

"I'm PLG, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I'm Yasmin (pronounced Yaz-MEEN)."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

"Yasmin (pronounced Yaz-MEEN)."

PLG, confused, looked to Amaya, who said, "It's Yasmin (pronounced Yaz-MEEN)."

"Oh, okay, Yasmin (Yaz-men)."

Yasmin, slightly agitated, said in a louder tone, "No, YasMIN (pronounced Yaz-MEEN, dude)!"

"Oh, I got it. Jaslene."

At this point, Yasmin had grown tired of screaming out her name. She realized that it was loud at the bar and that PLG might just have been inebriated. She did not think that Mr. PLG would be able to get it together. Furthermore, all her life, people had mispronounced her name, often times calling her Jasmine. So, she decided that it would be easier to tell PLG her name was just that.

"It's JASMINE."

"Oh, Jasmine. Well, it's so very nice to meet you, Jasmine."

Jasmine smiled sweetly and continued to sip her wine.

The next night, PLG was again in the mix, this time at an invite-only dressy affair. When he and Jasmine crossed paths, she mouthed hello and was just about to give him her sexy smirk, when, SCREEEEEEEEECH.... PLG said:

"Nick (Yasmin's biggest mistake) told me that your name is not Jasmine and that you must have lied to me."

Yasmin laughed softly and explained the situation. PLG thought it was funny, too. Before he walked away, Yasmin inquired as to what other things Nick had told PLG...

And you give me the most gorgeous sleep that I've ever had...

I watched Music and Lyrics over the weekend, and it reminded me of how I adore the song "Underneath It All." Whenever I hear Gwen sing-speak this line...a flood of emotions washes over me. Such a simple concept, yet so profound: a relationship where each night, you sleep a sweet slumber, knowing that your significant other is doing right by you. You trust it so much that not only is there no sleep lost, but you rest peacefully, beautifully...gorgeously.

I long for a lovely sleep into which I fall gently, eyes fluttering, a subtle smile across my face as the sandman guides me into what promises to be a night filled with pleasant dreams. Instead, Corrine Bailey Rae currently sings the soundtrack of my life.

"It's late and I'm feeling so tired...having trouble sleeping."

But, I'm not falling in love. In fact, I'm trying to fall out of it. And all the restless nights? Blame them on the constant war between logic and emotion.