As Mother's Day approaches, I ask myself 'am I a "real" mum?'

"My realness as a mother is not defined by DNA, nor by labels created with strung together syllables. It is in the series of actions strung together with love."

When You're an Egg Donor Recipient and Often Questioned About Being the 'Real Mom' by Sarah Humphreys

It's almost Mother's Day! This article popped up in my Google Alerts a while ago - the title is When you're an egg donor recipient and often questioned about being the 'real mom' ... at first I didn't want to read it, fearing it would knock my emotions out of kilter and set my head spinning. But, read it I did... largely out of curiosity as, although day to day I don't dwell on how I came to become a mother, it does live in my heart and there are times when I wonder if I'm a fraud; going amongst 'real mothers', undetected. As we approach Mother's Day, I have spent time reflecting on what makes a mother, and exactly how much genetics really has to do with it. The article articulated a few key themes that have been on my mind on and off, through my pregnancy and the first few months of my son's life.

The first is this: What is a mother? Is it purely about genetics? If so, are we saying adopted mothers are not real mothers either? I think not. Yet there have been fleeting moments where I wonder if I'm an imposter. Like most new mothers, I'm in an active NCT group - some of whom know my story - others who don't (I don't 'announce' my situation but if it comes up in conversation, I'm very open about it). Our babies were all born within days of each other. We've shared the precious early months of motherhood and supported each other through the many emotions that come with it. Am I less of a mother than them? I am mature enough to know that everyone has their own story. Mine is this but I have no idea of their private back stories, their struggles. All things considered, I don't feel I'm any different to them. If they are the barometers of "normal" mothers, then I reckon I'm pretty normal. Whatever that means!

From time to time, I look at photos of Baby's egg donor - they are childhood photos that were provided with her profile. Baby has her eyes - I see so much of her in him. Even without knowing my story, not one single person has ever looked at him and thought he looks like me. But, even with his donor's eyes, he is a dead ringer for his Daddy. So no-one looks at him and thinks anything more than that; he's his daddy's mini-me. I would be lying if I said I don't wonder what it feels like to look at a baby and see one's self. But when I look at him, I see the two people I love most in the world: my baby's own sweet face and the face of his daddy. To me, my son's donor is exactly that: his donor. She is a wonderful and amazing woman who selflessly donated her eggs so that I could become a mother. The gratitude I feel towards her is wrapped up in the love I feel for Baby. She is a part of him and it's his right to know that.

I frequently wonder how Baby will fare when he's old enough to understand his origins. I concern myself with his happiness and mental health. I prepare and plan for ways to support him through this. Even though I will find it hard, I will be honest with him about his conception and I will support him if he decides to, one day, trace his donor. I have surrounded him with people that not only know his story but will also be part of his journey as he grows, there to support him and be a kind ear when he has concerns he may not want to discuss with his parents. In short, I prioritise putting his needs before my own. Isn't that what motherhood is about?

This brings me to my second consideration; the language associated with fertility treatment (and specifically donor conception) and the training that healthcare professionals receive (or don't). At 8 weeks pregnant I attended the obligatory booking appointment at my local maternity hospital - a milestone I had longed to reach for many years. As I completed the endless questionnaires, I told the midwife that my baby was donor-egg conceived. "Why? What's wrong with your own eggs?" she asked. Not the right response! Honestly, it floored me - I had wrongly anticipated that a midwife would be trained to deal with pregnant women in a range of circumstances - or at least to be trained to act with tact and empathy! This comment was well-meaning but it highlighted to me early on that ignorance around donor-conception was greater than I'd imagined. In her campaign Think! What Not To Say! Alice Rose collated a list of cliched ill-informed, chocolate-teapot responses that no-one battling infertility wants or needs to hear. Infertility sucks. But what also sucks is the unhelpful remarks that would frustrate me daily. I'd like to add my experience to the list - along with "oh so you're not the real mother then?'. Years of fertility treatment, multiple miscarriages and enduring people telling me to just relax is bad enough but, having finally achieved a much longed-for healthy pregnancy, I didn't need anyone dinking my already fragile self-confidence.

Donor Conception Network "Our Story"

The Donor Conception Network, a great resource for donors, recipients and donor-conceived children, has reams of literature on helpful, tactful language regarding families like ours. I assumed (perhaps wrongly) that in today's society, where children are conceived in a host of ways and for a range of reasons, healthcare profs would be well versed in how to talk to me. But it quickly became clear that this was not the case. I'm a big girl, I have perfected the art of tuning out unhelpful comments - but I worry about the discourse that will surround my son - will doctors and teachers be tactful and helpful to him? Or will he too feel distressed by the lack of understanding of those around him. My choices already set him apart but I sincerely hope that he won't be affected by well-meaning yet ill-informed people. I anticipate bumps in the road ahead and find ways to smooth them and spare him hurt. Isn't that what motherhood is about?

My boy is now eight months old. For nearly nine months, I grew him. I birthed him (for 22 hours!), It's my breasts that nourish him. It's my voice, my smell that comforts him. It's my smile that inspires his own. It's me who cries when he cries. It's me who knows intuitively when he is not well. Of all the faces he knows, mine is the one he searches for. In my lifetime he will never know a day that is not touched by my overwhelming love for him. I will never stop in my quest to raise a happy and healthy child. To nurture him and keep him safe. To teach him and inspire him with strong values and humanity. Those are just some of the things I will do for him. Isn't that what motherhood is about?

So, to answer my own question, I DO feel like a real mum, whatever that feels like! I feel like HIS mum. So happy Mother's Day to me and all mothers who have been blessed thanks to an amazing egg or sperm donor. We'll spend the day thinking of our egg donor - where ever she is. We thank her for making this day (and every other day) a remarkable and wonderful reality for our little family.