As we approach Father’s Day 2025 - one of our most popular times at Cachia and a sentimental one in my personal life, I’ve found myself reflecting more deeply than ever. I’ve certainly spent some quiet moments playing out future conversations, imagining all the ways I’ll talk to Esmé when she’s not just old enough to understand, but old enough to start asking her own questions about the day.
It’s not because of any sadness or loss, it’s more of an anxious feeling, only because I want to make sure I get it right. The questions, the school events, the little moments that might feel like gaps… and of course the questions will come. But it doesn’t mean they scare me.
Despite having different circumstances, I’ve always chosen to raise both Bobby and Florence with complete honesty and transparency across all facets of life. Some may not agree (my mum lol) with how early or openly I’ve had certain conversations, but I’ve always believed in offering a clear understanding of the world from human biology and sex to relationships, identity, and the wide spectrum of what a family dynamic can look like. Having them approach life with acceptance, curiosity, respect and love has always been my goal.
They were both fully aware of my decision to have a baby on my own and what that journey involved. They walked that journey with me too… any appointment they wanted to attend, every question answered, every moment shared. I’m so proud of the kind, open-hearted, accepting children I’ve raised so far and little Esmé will be no different. The major difference, of course, is that Esmé will grow up without a father. Not a dad who left. Not one who pops in and out. She will simply never know him, because for her, he doesn’t exist.
But her donor does. And when the day comes that she’s ready, she can know as much or as little about him as she chooses.
Upon first ever deciding that this was going to be my journey, I made a promise to raise any donor conceived child with nothing but the truth. Not the sugar-coated kind but the beautiful version of how she came to be in my life. I see no other way than to build our relationship on honesty, even when those conversations may feel big or complicated.
And while I’ll always strive to give her a sense of normality, the reality is that Esmé is unique within our family. She was a decision made with such great intention, deep love and years of thought, care and planning.
I know there will be years when Father’s Day might feel confusing, maybe even consuming for my little girl. Especially when on that day, she will wave goodbye to her older brother & sister as they go be with their Dad. But what I do know is that we’ll always use the day to reflect on the people who exist in her life, whether they be male, female, blood or chosen. The ones who help me raise her, shape her and show her what unconditional love looks like with our own family dynamic.
Recently, I asked my community online whether anyone else was navigating Father’s Day with a donor-conceived child. I wasn’t looking for guidance because I felt unsure, I feel grounded and confident in how I plan to approach this. Yet the reality is, this is also my first time living it. And if there’s one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that listening to others’ experiences will only help me grow and parent her better.
One private conversation with a follower stuck with me. A family told me that whilst they don’t celebrate Father’s Day, they don’t ignore it either. Instead, they created Donor Day. A moment to honour the man who helped bring their child into the world. And I bloody loved it! Having our own Donor Day is now something I’ve popped up on the vision board as a gentle idea to be guided by Esmé, if and when she ever wants to celebrate it. Everything will always be her call.
Donor-conceived children are made with intention, magic and with a kind of love that breaks every traditional mould. And that? That’s something to be so proud of and something to be celebrated.
