On tenterhooks waiting for the call from the fertility clinic, they hoped that this time it would be bring them joy not heartache.
But the news was a hammer blow because it marked the end of Jay-Jay Feeney and Dom Harvey’s dreams of conceiving a child naturally together . . .
When the devastating call finally came from the clinic, it marked a sea change in the life of New Zealand’s best known radio couple.
‘It’s been two years since our last attempt, we’re now pushing 40 and it’s just devastating because it’s so final,’ Jay-Jay, 38, confesses.
Behind the public face of the cheeky husband-and-wife double-act who front The Edge’s breakfast show with Mike Puru are a devoted, down-to-earth, home-loving couple who simply want to have a baby of their own.
Hoping against hope that their dream would become reality, they have ridden an emotional rollercoaster and spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatments.
But Dom is now coming to terms with the fact that he will never become a biological father and give his beloved wife the baby they yearn for.
Dom’s low quality sperm means his chances of having a child are minimal.
It’s a cruel shock for the 39-year-old. He’s the antithesis of his on-air persona, a sensitive and articulate guy who has a natural way with kids, and who believes that becoming a father is the reason for living.
‘For me, a life without kids feels like an empty life,’ he says. ‘Being a dad is something that has always been really important to me. You think about the big scheme of things and what are we all here for.
‘I think having kids, and going through that stage of your life, and then being grandparents is what it’s all about.’
Jay-Jay doesn’t share the same philosophy but is driven by the desire to complete their close-knit family by producing a child and heir.
‘I’m not the sort of person who has always wanted to have kids my whole life and I didn’t think I would until I met Dom,’ she says, giving her man an adoring look.
‘But now I do want them because I am in love with Dom.’ . . .
Now, at this major crossroads in their lives, they are determined not to obsess about their failures and instead look to the future.
Artificial insemination
Considering donor sperm
When I started writing this book, we were about to start our fifth IVF cycle. I thought it would be great to share our story and, maybe, inspire or comfort others in the same situation. After our fifth failure, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the book for six months. How could I finish it?
It couldn’t have a happy ending. I hadn’t been depressed about it, but equally, I didn’t want to go back and live it again.
When we heard Dom’s sperm was mutant and took time to think about everything, we realised it was time to accept that Dom was never going to be a biological father. It was devastating for him because it had been his biggest dream in life. He realised it wasn’t just about the biology and we had other options. It was time for us to try something completely new—artificial insemination by donor sperm.
The doctors and nurses at both FertilityPLUS and Fertility Associates had suggested early on that we could take a short cut to a baby by using a sperm donor. But it really isn’t an easy decision to make. The first instinct is to want a biological child—one that resembles you, one that has similar characteristics, one that continues your family blood line. But when this can’t happen, for whatever reason, you start to re-evaluate why it is you want a child and whether biology is as important as everyone thinks it is.
For us, we always held out hope that we could somehow create a biological child—not so much for me, but for Dom, who wanted it more than anything. Over time he has come to realise that biology is not that important. We look at celebrities who adopt and see how strong and colourful their families are and how much love they share, and we see it doesn’t matter.
I also get inspiration from my niece who my sister adopted out at birth. She is seventeen now and I see her regularly. She was adopted by an incredible family who gave her so much more than my sister ever could and she is delightfully happy. It makes no difference that her mum and dad do not share her genes. And I see my nephew Seven who has lived with us since he was four and I know how much Dom and I both love him—we are fiercely protective of him. I know that no matter where we get our baby from or how it comes to us, it will feel like our baby, and we will love it, no matter what.
In a funny way, I also know what it’s like to be a sperm-donor child, because I am one. When Mum told me my Feeney dad wasn’t my real father, I was six. She told me it was a secret and I kept it a secret until recently, when she helped me find Malcolm, my biological father.
I grew up knowing, but it didn’t make an iota of a difference to me. I didn’t think about it much at all when I was young. I loved my dad and I’m pretty sure he loved me. More recently, as Dom and I have been trying to have children, I’ve felt a burning desire to find out where I came from. As an adult, it has bothered me. What did he look like? What characteristics do I have of his? Does he have any other kids? What did his parents die of?
I found it hard to search for him because I knew Dad and my siblings would have to find out but in 2011, at the age of 37, I decided I was allowed to know and everyone else in the family was old enough and big enough to deal with it.
Mum was staying with us for a few days so I asked her for Malcolm’s full name. She knew it, but didn’t know how to spell it. And she knew where his parents used to lived, so we looked up variations of the surname in the phone book and found what we thought was his parents’ address. Next, I searched for Malcolm on Google and found a profile on the old friends website that looked as if it might be him. Running through his past I saw he had lived in Auckland at the time of my conception and that he was a photographer and DJ—like Mum had said. He also used to work in radio, hosting the night show on a popular radio station in the late seventies. I could not believe it. How freaky is that?
I searched his name on Facebook, and quickly found his profile. He had lots of old photos of himself in the seventies on his page open for anyone to see. Mum shrieked, putting her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my God, that’s him!’ She looked quite green all of a sudden and had to leave the room. She was in a state of shock because it was the first time she had seen him since that single romantic night when she was fifteen!
I was shocked, too. I had an image in my mind of what my father looked like, and I guess it was of him when he was twenty—I hadn’t imagined him ageing. My imagined father was six foot tall, athletic, blonde, with blue eyes, well dressed and charming. He even had a little bit of rock ’n’ roll cool. Instead, looking at me from Facebook was a 60-year-old man with a grey mullet and a beer gut. He looked like a real estate agent and I found out later that that was what he was. This old man staring back at me was the man who helped create me. I was laughing and crying at the same time. I can’t explain how I felt—it was surreal.
I decided to request friendship. I didn’t think past this point. What would I do when I found him? A couple of minutes later he accepted my friend request and I saw he was online. This was all happening so fast. I only started the search about an hour ago! I ran out to the lounge squealing at Mum, ‘He’s accepted me! What should I do? Do you think he knows who I am?’
Mum was no help. ‘I don’t know honey,’ she said. We both collapsed on the couch and continued laughing and crying together. I think she felt a bit protective of me and was afraid this guy might swoop into my life and claim all the credit for my success, but Mum deserves it for bringing me up on her own. I assured her I didn’t want a new father—I just wanted to learn more about myself.
I wasn’t really thinking clearly and I’m a very spontaneous person who often reacts before she thinks. I opened a chat window in Facebook and started typing.
JAY-JAY: Hi Malcolm
M: Hi, how’s the radio business?
JAY-JAY: Do you know w
ho I am?
M: Breakfast on the Edge
JAY-JAY: Do you know anything else about me?
M: I know what’s on your Facebook page, and I have seen you on TV when I was living in NZ
JAY-JAY: Do you remember Robynne Andersen?
M: The name doesn’t ring a bell, sorry
I uploaded a photo of mum at sixteen.
JAY-JAY: Does she look familiar?
M: Sorry, don’t recognise her JAY-JAY: Think back to 1973
M: 1973—I was living in Papatoetoe, working at a pharmaceuticals company and had a night job as a photographer in night clubs and pubs. I don’t recognise the photo though.
JAY-JAY: Just funny because she is my mother and says she knew you and partied with u one night at a club then went back to your flat in Papatoetoe.
M: Wow, she remembers me from that far back? As a photographer and later a DJ I met so many people my memory banks are overloaded.
JAY-JAY: You must be unforgettable!
M: I’ve been told that lol
JAY-JAY: I have something really CRAZY to tell you . . .
M: I like crazy, fire away
Oh. My. God. There was no backing out now. I sat back in my chair, breathing heavily for at least a minute or two before I continued writing.
JAY-JAY: You are my father
And then I waited. I was so nervous, my heart was beating through my chest. What would he do now? Would he log off? Delete me? Abuse me? Deny it? What? I couldn’t handle the suspense. About a minute or two later—that felt like an hour—he responded.
M: OMG you weren’t wrong that’s pretty crazy! I have a daughter?? AMAZING
I was so relieved.
JAY-JAY: Do you not have any other kids??
M: 3 sons
JAY-JAY: Well, you have a daughter too. And she’s 37
M: I’m glad I’m sitting down
JAY-JAY: Hahahaha
M: Funny, I saw you in the media once and thought you looked a bit like my sister
JAY-JAY: I’m sorry—I have been trying to find you for YEARS and well, I just stumbled across u tonight and thought ‘What am I waiting for?’ There is no easy way to say it.
M: And I’m glad you did, everyone should have the chance to know their parents—and their children
JAY-JAY: I don’t want anything . . . I was just always curious as to whether I look like you . . . and I heard u were a DJ which is SO CRAZY that I am too!!!
M: I was a disco DJ for 27 years, and in that time I spent several years on radio—I was night jock on a radio station. It is crazy!
JAY-JAY: How do u feel now? I am really sorry to do this to you.
M: I feel very nervous and excited. Don’t be sorry!
I have an album on Facebook of old family photos, have a look through
JAY-JAY: I already did! Hahaha. The resemblance is uncanny. And it really was. As a baby, I was the spitting image of Malcolm as a baby. It was scary. No wonder I never looked like my brothers and sisters.
JAY-JAY: I hope I haven’t upset you. I know it’s shocking. It’s true though.
M: I’m not upset, I’m happy knowing that I have a daughter who is so attractive and obviously intelligent
JAY-JAY: I’m crying and laughing at the same time
M: I should be there to offer you a hanky
JAY-JAY: I have a big nose like u! hahaha
M: All the better to appreciate a fine wine
He went on to tell me a little bit about his family.
JAY-JAY: Oh shit . . . the penny just dropped. I HAVE THREE
BROTHERS!?!? And three more nieces. What a big day this is.
M: Did your mother call herself Bobby?
JAY-JAY: Yes she did
M: I think I remember
JAY-JAY: She is 53. Still hot though.
M: So am I J
JAY-JAY: Hahaha. You have a good sense of humour.
M: I’m a born entertainer, I was quite sad when I stopped working in the business, but it was my time to bow out
JAY-JAY: It gets in your blood. I can’t imagine doing anything else.
M: As you’re a breakfast jock you will no doubt have a similar sense of humour
JAY-JAY: Apparently
JAY-JAY: I am not throwing myself on u. You don’t have to tell me anything.
M: Throwing yourself on me? I have a strange urge to throw my arms around you.
JAY-JAY: Awww!! Do you mind if I keep in contact via Facebook?
M: Hell no! I’m just sorry we didn’t make contact earlier.
JAY-JAY: Oh my God, this is crazy
M: Totally
JAY-JAY: Well have a great night. talk to u soon. Jay-Jay xox
M: Bye bye daughter xoxox
JAY-JAY: See ya DAD!! hahaha.
M: OMG
JAY-JAY: OMG
Over the next few weeks I chatted to Malcolm a lot on Facebook and I decided to meet his sister and her daughters—my aunty and cousins! They were excited to meet me and tried hard to answer all my questions. I even flew to Brisbane to meet Malcolm and I was so nervous I wanted to throw up, but he was very friendly and definitely has a warped sense of humour.
His whole family, including my new brothers, have all been very supportive and we have all become friends with no pressure. I don’t feel as if Malcolm is my dad, and that’s not what I wanted anyway, but since I found him I have found peace within myself. It’s weird. It’s also made me appreciate my mum, who brought me up and confirmed it really does not matter where you come from—it matters who you have around you to support and nurture you through life.
IN HIS OWN WORDS—COPING WITH JAY-JAY’S NEW FAMILY
Being from a fairly boring, normal-ish family dynamic myself (four kids, all with the same parents), my mum and dad pretty much hated each other but stuck it out for us kids, and THEN broke up. (How romantic of them.) I always found Jay-Jay’s situation a bit odd.
The bloke she called Dad is good guy. A bit unreliable and hopeless with remembering birthdays and other dates that people seem to think are important, like Christmas. But a good dude nonetheless. Maybe more of a mate than a dad. But as a kid you could do a lot worse for a father figure.
The weird thing is, he knew he was not Jay-Jay’s biological dad, as did Jay-Jay, but neither of them knew that the other person knew. So it was the elephant in the room. Actually, it was more like a fully grown elephant in a really small room. Jay-Jay only knew because her mum told her one day as a kid and Jay-Jay never forgot. She knew her biological dad was a guy called Malcolm and had a general idea of possible last names. The key piece of information, really. She knew he had some link to radio during his career but that was all the information she had, and previous attempts to find him had just drawn blanks.
One night Jay-Jay and her mum sat down at our place and had a conversation about this part of Jay-Jay’s life that was not complete. She had always wanted to find out some answers. And at this time Jay-Jay hadn’t heard from Gavin for over two years. No calls, no contact at all. And no response to messages, cards and gifts sent to him. It was almost like they had had a big falling out without actually having the incident that triggers the silence.
In the end, the puzzle was solved with the help of good old Facebook. Jay-Jay and her mum sat round the laptop typing in possible spellings of his last name. They eventually stumbled across the profile picture of an older, grey-haired man that Jay-Jay’s mum had considered handsome enough for a brief unprotected encounter some 38 years earlier. (There are some things you just do not need to know about your in-laws!)
Jay-Jay made contact with Malcolm, and they got talking through Facebook messaging. This progressed until a week or so later when Jay-Jay was ready to take things to the next level and have a Skype date with Malcolm.
We then travelled to Brisbane to meet him and have a lunch. He is a good guy. He has been really good to Jay-Jay, answering any questions she has and letting her decide what the relationship between them should be. I mean, obviously it
is father and daughter; but when you meet your dad for the first time at the age of 37, I would think he has probably missed the window of opportunity to call this near-middle-aged woman next to him ‘Buttons’, ‘Poppet’ or ‘My little ladybug’.
Getting this over and done with has, I think, been a pretty cathartic experience for Jay-Jay. It’s hard to explain, but I guess she just feels like she fits in somewhere and has another place, another family that she is part of. Malcolm’s family in New Zealand have been very warm and inviting. And they all seem quite normal. When you have dealt with the amount of bullshit Jay-Jay has with her family, normal is a good thing. Normal is perfect.
After all that, we decided that a sperm donor would not be such a bad thing. The next decision to be made was do we choose one from the sperm bank, select one of our friends who have offered, or ask someone else? It turned out to be, quite possibly, the most difficult decision we have ever made together. We brainstormed a few ideas, including putting all the possibilities on pieces of paper and drawing one from a bowl, numbering the options and getting Seven to pick a number between one and ten, and holding a tribal council between our friends to vote possible donors out of the running. In the end, it was a decision we had to make ourselves, but it came after a great deal of discussion.
IN HIS OWN WORDS—CONSIDERING DONOR SPERM
IVF is the business of hope and with each failed attempt a little bit of hope dies. By the fifth cycle I was in a fairly negative headspace, which is not ideal. But Jay-Jay and I are realists—we don’t see any use in flogging a dead horse. We reasoned that if it was going to happen, it would have happened after five cracks at it.
So, although the whole sperm-donor thing takes a while to get your head around, we edged a little bit closer to accepting the idea with each failed IVF cycle. It became a bit clearer each time that I would not be able to father my own biological kids, my own flesh and blood.
Misconception Page 15