I was reading the BBC website's report on the tsunami on Boxing Day 2004 and there was a ticker above the story saying the government was going to lift the anonymity for gamete donors. I thought: "What the bloody hell's a gamete?" So I read the story and clicked on a link to the National Gamete Donation Trust.

Reading about all these disasters - earthquakes, the tsunami - I kept thinking there's not a damn thing you can do in life to make a difference. I thought this would be a way to make a difference. I went for tests to find if my sperm was mobile and good enough. They had a psychologist who talked to me and showed me the books they give to children - all about how mummy and daddy were having problems and then a nice man came along and helped. The idea is that they know from an early age how they were conceived. I gave 10 donations, and they'll be able to use eight of them.

I haven't got any children, though it's still possible I will have. Now the law is changed and there's no anonymity for donors, maybe in 18 years time I'll get a knock on the door and it will my genetic child. I'd like that, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm not their father - he's the man who picks them up from school and hugs them when they're hurt.
Mark Jackson

... and a mother's

When our son, Andrew, who was born using donor sperm, was six years old, we took some flowers to the local churchyard. Quite out of the blue, Andrew asked, "Is that my dad buried there?"

As time passed, Andrew became more and more open about his origins and when he was seven, he decided he would tell his whole class at school. We were slightly nervous about this because up to this point we had only told family and close friends; but with a deep breath, we supported him all the way. We contacted his teacher (who already knew) and she handled it brilliantly. She introduced the subject in circle time by asking if anyone felt different or special which was Patrick's cue to tell his story. The children were fantastically receptive apparently and asked lots of sensible questions.

As for the recent government announcement ... Andrew thinks it isn't fair that donors aren't being made to meet their offspring when the children are 18 - at least, he thinks that some days and as for others - well, his donor might be fat and smoke so he wouldn't want to meet him anyway.
Kate Smith

... a partner's

I hadn't seriously considered that I might have a fertility problem. After all, I already had a daughter. But after our visit to the clinic, I privately began to gnaw at the idea that something might be wrong with me. When we went back for the results, my suspicions were confirmed.

Right up until the moment that he was born, I'd thought my feelings towards Peter would differ from my feelings towards my daughter Emma, who looks like me because she has inherited my genes. I experienced the same joy at the moment of Peter's birth as I had done at Emma's. During his first few months, I felt the same mixture of emotions. Bonding is instinctive, I have discovered. If you allow it to happen, it happens.

What responsibilities do we parents have towards our donor-conceived children? First, we have a responsibility to be open. Our children have a right to know that they are donor-conceived and they have a right to know as early as possible. Second, we have a responsibility to listen. What we think we should feel about infertility and donor-conception is not necessarily what we actually do feel about it, and it is important to recognise this. Third, we have a responsibility to celebrate the genetic identity of our children and support their right to know the identity of their donors.
Tony Brown

and a daughter's

It's very hard growing up and not knowing the other side of your genetic background and also dangerous if there is a history of family diseases. It's not that I feel deceived or let down by the medical profession but I don't feel complete and at the least want to know what colour eyes my donor has. It upsets me when people say things like "I have my father's nose and my mother's mouth" as they don't realise how special it is just to say that. When you know which bits of you came from your mum and your dad you can focus on who you are. Trying to figure that out is hard enough let alone being a DI child and only knowing half. Knowing could establish what is what and help me feel relaxed and secure.

In no way would I ever consider my donor as my father. He is my genetic father. He gave me life and my parents great joy, but nothing else. I would like to think I will find my donor and I am not going to give up without a fight. I respect the fact that donors want their privacy, but being a DI child I would do almost anything, including going to court, to find the man who gave me life.

I can't remember my parents telling me I was a donor baby - it is something I seem to have always known about. Not only does that make it feel normal to me, it also makes me feel a bit special.
Sarah King

· Some names have been changed