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THE QUESTION

A reader writes: My lesbian sister and her life partner recently went through a major case of biological clock ticking. Both are in their 40s and are successful artists and businesswomen.

They suddenly realized that "something" was missing: a child. So they decided that borrowed sperm would be needed. In their circle, the natural method has been used - sleeping with the donor, thus knowing exactly the provenance and quality of the genetic material.

Now to me. I was asked to be the donor. My genetic material would ensure that the offspring would look like my sister (we look like twins but are not), or so it was explained. I would have to relinquish all parental rights, and the child would never be told of my role in the situation. I said no and have now essentially lost my sister.

Should I really try to mend this fence? I feel that I did nothing wrong.

THE ANSWER

I don't think you've done anything wrong, either.

Your sister, though - oy. What - and I mean this in the most positive, supportive way - is she thinking?

Thirty seconds' reflection would reveal this for what it is: a really, really bad idea.

Oddly enough, a similar dilemma is unfurling in the midst of my own milieu. A gay friend of mine is "mulling," as the tabloid headline writers say, the idea of donating sperm to a lesbian friend who wants kids.

Now, he hasn't asked my opinion. And I try to stay away from giving unsolicited (the lowest form of) advice. But if he were to ask, and I happened to be in a mood to drop some pro bono Eddificationtm on his derrière, I would say: "For God's sake, man, don't do it You're going to bring a child into the world but pretend for its entire life that you're not its father? Who are you, Mel Lastman?"

Remember the former Toronto mayor's (alleged) secret love children, Kim and Todd Louie? As time went on, as they hit their 30s, they got tired of everyone saying: "Damn, you guys look a hell of a lot like Mel Lastman Have you ever considered the possibility he's your father?"

They stroked their exactly-like-Lastman's chins, scratched their Lastman-replica thinning hair-Brillos, and thought: "Hm, it's true Mom used to work for him at Bad Boy." She told them what happened, then they sued Mr. Lastman for millions in retroactive child support.

He admitted to a 14-year extramarital affair with the mother, Grace Louie, but neither confirmed nor denied fathering the two mini-Mels. The judge tossed the Louies' lawsuit, comparing Mr. Lastman's legal status with that of a sperm donor.

So Mr. Lastman beat the rap. But is that the kind of father you want to be?

Because it'll play out in a similar fashion for you. I mean, children are only so gullible for so long. As this kid grows older, he's going to look at your sister, and he's going to think: "Hmmm. True, I look a lot like my 'other mother.' Which is nice. But if I've got this whole birds-and-bees thing straight, there's really no way she could actually have inseminated my birth mom."

Then he's going to take a long look at you. And he's going to think: "Hmmm. I also look a lot like my uncle."

And a light bulb's going to go off above his looks-exactly-like-yours head. Then he's going to want to play catch with you. And go to baseball games.

Now, becoming a father is one of the best and most profound things that can happen to a man, in my opinion. It's one of the greatest joys life has to offer. But it involves much more than the donation of 500 million sperm.

It's tying skates. It's drying tears. This morning (as I write this) I rolled up my sleeve and reached with my bare hand into a toilet bowl full of floating turds to extract a toy motorcycle my youngest son had dropped in there while going "No. 2."

Why? Because I love him, and I want him to be happy.

I know I'm not exactly doing the world's best sales job on fatherhood here, but you're going to want that too. You're going to want to be involved. And your child's going to want it. He or she is going to want to spend time with you, believe me. To hold your hand. To give you a hug. To say, "I love you, Dad," and have you say it back.

You're going to turn your back on that? You'd have to have a heart of stone. So if you secretly want to be a father, and you can make some sort of arrangement with your sister where you can be involved, have some visitation rights and so on - some sort of "Uncle Dad" thing - go for it.

Otherwise, you're doing the right thing by saying "no," no question.

Sit your sister down and explain all this to her. Maybe show her this article, if you agree with it. Tell her that unless you are going to be involved in the child-rearing, then it's in the best interests of all parties - you, her, the unborn child - for her to get an anonymous donor. A donor, preferably, whose identity the child cannot discover by hook or by crook, charm or bribery.

Because the kid will try, I bet, even under those circumstances. I know I would. I'd want to find my dad, even if he didn't want to be found. Deoxyribonucleic acid (a.k.a. DNA) is a powerful drug. It can really mess with your head.

If she still stays angry, that's her problem. Yours too, it's true. But trust me, having your sister mad at you is a minuscule problem compared with the one you'd create - a problem that would keep growing and growing and growing - by saying yes.

David Eddie is a screenwriter

and the author of Chump Change and Housebroken: Confessions

of a Stay-at-Home Dad.I've made a huge mistake

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