Article: Hilary Basset from FAIRLADY
Image: Your Pregnancy Magazine

The news seemed a miracle to her family and friends: Chelsea(42) had returned to America from a luxury holiday in Cape Town, her face radiant, announcing, 'I'm pregnant!'

After three miscarriages, severe endometriosis and a failed attempt at artificial insemination, most women would have given up. But for Chelsea and her husband John, going the extra mile – or even 6 000 of them – for the chance of a healthy baby, was worth every inch. And the treatment had worked!

If this baby was a miracle, she was a man-made one, planned down to the last test tube. The embryo now growing healthily in Chelsea's womb was the product of a South African egg donor carefully selected from a website before the couple left home. John's sperm had fertilised the eggs, four of which had been implanted in Chelsea's hormone-prepared uterus 10 days after the couple arrived in Cape Town. And one of them had taken.

Such technology is not new, of course. In America it's been last-hope treatment for years for women who discover – sometimes in their early 30s – that their eggs are no longer viable. It has the advantage that both husband and wife are deeply involved in the whole pregnancy, unlike sperm donation where the new 'father' can feel left out of the loop. But egg donation in America costs upward of US$20 000. And it is hedged with legal protectiveness because of the national obsession for sueing doctors if things go wrong.

So when Chelsea and John discovered they could fly to a sophisticated clinic in Cape Town to have the procedure done at half the price and with half the formalities, they were overjoyed.

Especially since their flights, luxury accommodation and a game safari were all thrown in. What's more, if they didn't feel like doing the typical tourist thing under the circumstances, they could pass the time between procedures in imaginative, soul-enriching ways such as learning shiatsu or doing an advanced art class. Or, more materialistically, they could go on a guided, personalised shopping spree at attractive rand prices.

The plan is tailor-made for women who are obsessed with giving birth and have exhausted every other option.

Californian Robin Newman, who conceptualised this scheme, called 'Renew', feels that the holiday atmosphere and reduced stress contribute to the high rate of success. 'I underwent fertility treatment myself for two decades,' she says ruefully.

'I tried everything possible and in the end I was left with nothing &nadsh; no baby, no husband because the marriage soured after he refused to adopt, and no money because it had cost us every cent.'

So Robin instinctively understands the nurturing needed and derives great satisfaction from providing it. 'My experience is now serving some purpose,' she says. Dr Claus Wiswedel of the Cape Fertility Clinic says, 'There's no real evidence that peace of mind makes any difference. I think our 65% success rate has more to do with the latest technology.'

He was head of the fertility clinic at Groote Schuur Hospital for 10 years, and says that Americans are often surprised to find such sophistication in other countries. 'They are better informed than South Africans about the procedures,' he says, 'but ignorant about the country – they expect to see lions and tigers roaming around.'

The 50 or so donors on Robin's website – www.renewfertility.com – belong to a range of ethnic groups.

Credit for this goes to Robin, because her grasp of the emotional dynamics makes it easier to persuade people to donate. The young women are paid R15 000 for their trouble – a year's university fees for some, although less than the US$3 000 American egg donors receive. This is not a direct payment for the egg but is seen as a payment for the donor's expenses, time and trouble. 'Ultimately they do it for love,' says Robin.

But this raises the question of exploitation. Are we turning human eggs – and life itself – into a commodity, sold by the poor to the rich? Is financial consideration a basis for making clear-minded decisions about something as delicate as the creation of human life?

But two of the donors, both students at the University Cape Town, see their role differently.

'I knew this was something I had to do as soon as I'd spoken to Robin,' says Tania, a petite 22-year-old. 'It felt great to be able to change someone's life so fundamentally at so little real cost to myself. I have no desire to become a mother, but amazing that I can give somebody else the chance.'

'I was ecstatic to find I could do this,' says Karen, another egg donor. 'The money was the factor that interested me initially, but once I'd looked into it, it was more the feeling that I was doing something really good with my life. I don't think any one would do it just for the money – the hormone injections, the general anaesthetic you're given when they retrieve oocytes [unfertilised ova] through the vagina, and the discomfort you go through are not for the faint-hearted.'

What were the reactions of their friends and families? 'Apart from my boyfriend, the men were horrified,' says Tania. 'I am thinking of doing my thesis on it because it seems to be yet another double standard. Nobody thinks twice about men donating to sperm banks.'

Society, however, is beginning to think twice. In Sweden, a man who'd identified himself as the donor-father of three boys was ordered to pay maintenance when the mother hit hard times. And Britain is considering legislation to ensure that the donor's identity can be made known to the child should the child so desire.

In South Africa, the laws pertaining to children's rights are finally being more strictly applied – dedicated maintenance courts, the appointment of more people to track down maintenance dodgers and the many leaflets telling mothers of their rights are now forcing men to be accountable for the offspring of seed sown casually in the normal way.

Shouldn't we all be accountable – if necessary – for every child we have allowed to be born, no matter how clinical the circumstances? Aren't we otherwise undermining a fundamental principle: that parents have a debt towards their progeny?

Neither Tania nor Karen wanted contact with the parents-to- be, to whom only their first names were revealed.

However, they had been encouraged to write a letter to the child, explaining why they had played this part in their procreation. It would be up to the parents to decide whether the child would ever see it. Both women felt that a child conceived with such effort and persistence was likely to have a great life, with unbounded love showered upon them.

Both donors have signed away all further claim on the child, and see no reason – now – to think they might change their minds. Karen says, 'If, as an adult, he or she came looking for me, I would not object to one meeting. But I'd never want a relationship – I'd see that as undermining the real parents.

I am giving life, but that's all. The most important thing is how the infant is raised. For me, it's not an emotional thing – it's like being a blood donor.'

Both women had been thoroughly screened, both psychologically and physically, before becoming donors – more to protect the 'buyers' than to counsel them.

Of concern, however, is that they hadn't been warned of the unknown risks of taking megadoses of hormones, for instance. There is no conclusive evidence that it's unhealthy, but questions have been raised about whether it could cause cancer. Harper's Bazaar editor Liz Tilberis wrote a book called No Time to Die in which she blames fertility treatment for the ovarian cancer that later killed her. And a young British journalist, Ruth Picardie, also ascribed her breast cancer to the treatment.

'It stands to reason that a disease that is hormone-receptive would be made more aggressive by a huge onslaught of hormones,' her sister said after her death.

A young Australian couple were the recipients of Tania's first donation, but they weren't as lucky as Chelsea and John – their implant didn't 'take'. But for others the adventure of parenthood may well begin in this extraordinary way. Who's to say that technology put to so natural and age-old a purpose is not equally God's gift?

Ultimately, of course, the interests of the child are paramount. What is at present a private science-and-money-driven transaction should perhaps be more widely debated if we, as a society, are to succeed in preserving the interests of children.

Would you donate your eggs? Let us know.