An Utterly Unrepentant Sperm Stealer - Woman Ruthlessly Used A Younger Man To Give Her A Baby

By Shannon 'Sperm Stealer' Robertshaw: Single, solvent and secretly pining for a baby? Don't let the small matter of not being in a relationship stand in your way. When, in my mid-30s, my maternal instinct finally kicked in - I'd never wanted children before then - I wasn't worried I hadn't met Mr Right.

Spurred on by the profound regret of an older friend who'd searched high and low for the perfect father only to run out of time, I decided to take control of my own fate. Not for me waiting for a knight in shining armour, while my eggs, already in short supply, dwindled.
At first I considered a sperm donor clinic, but then a serendipitous meeting presented a different route to my dream of single parenthood. When a strapping young man of 21 happened to cross my path and give me a second look, I had a lightbulb moment. What if, in the heat of the moment and emboldened by alcohol, we found ourselves having unprotected sex? What if I didn't spell out the risks of pregnancy? And what if he said he didn't want anything to do with the resulting child? Then all the better.

I really wasn't interested in a long-term relationship, and as an independent woman with a career in the financial sector, I felt I would do a far superior job of raising a baby on my own, thank you.

Now 42, I have a beautiful four-year-old daughter, Hannah, and am happier than I could ever have imagined. There are no regrets.

Some will criticise my single-mindedness or say I've deprived my child of a loving father. But what of the one in three marriages that end in divorce? At least Hannah is spared the painful decline of her parents' relationship.

Neither am I an embittered, put-upon single mother: I went into lone parenthood through choice, and I love every minute.

I'm sure the fact that I enjoyed a traditional upbringing with married parents and an older brother will raise eyebrows - why would I knowingly deny my daughter the secure, happy home from which I benefited?

But as I see it, the nuclear family is in sharp decline: we have gay couples having babies, transgender parents, 'blended' families with biological and stepchildren. The new generation is much more open-minded.

Others might accuse me of tricking Hannah's dad into fatherhood before he was ready and call me some sort of 'sperm stealer', but it wasn't as premeditated as that. We'd been seeing each other for seven weeks before that reckless night.

I didn't really plan it - well not methodically, anyway - but I wasn't about to complain when one thing led to another and we took a risk. In all honesty, I never imagined it would work first time.

I bet I'm not the only woman to have exploited a man's gung-ho attitude to contraception in the hope of falling pregnant. It's up to men to be more careful if they're worried. Well above the age of consent and fully versed in the birds and the bees, they're hardly helpless victims.

I've always been an independent soul: throughout my 20s, I travelled widely - from Australia to Thailand to South America. As for relationships, I never managed more than a couple of years.

I have a strong personality and not many men can handle that. I can't stand shrinking violets; they need to have backbone.

Even when I settled in London at 31, starting a family couldn't have been further from my thoughts. It wasn't until I was 35 that I changed my mind.

My friend, Beatrice, then in her late- 40s, came over for a drink one night and poured her heart out about her childlessness. She blamed the fact she'd spent her life looking for Mr Right, ignoring opportunities to become a single parent.

'Don't end up like me,' she said.

Her pain really struck me. For the first time, I realised I did want a baby. Yes, I would have loved to have been happily married, but I could see time wasn't on my side. Even if I suddenly met the man of my dreams, it would be imprudent to rush into having children.

I would need at least a couple of years to get to know him before making that kind of commitment.

At 35, I didn't think I could wait that long. It was too much of a risk to hang on in the hope that Mr Right would eventually come along and that Mother Nature would oblige when we were both good and ready.

So I decided to go it alone. It was not a decision I made lightly, and I spent a long time weighing up the options.

First, could I afford to raise a child on my own? I couldn't countenance the idea of relying on state handouts, but having worked hard for 20 years, with no dependents, I'd managed to save a cash cushion to fall back on and had bought my own flat in London.

Plus, my job offered a generous maternity package. I did the sums and worked out I could afford it. All I needed was that vital ingredient: sperm.

I was at the point of selecting a reputable fertility clinic (at £3,000 a go, I could afford at least three attempts) when fate intervened.

I met Ben at a mutual friend's party in October 2010. Handsome with a wicked sense of humour and what I call an 'old soul', I was amazed when he told me he was only 21.

He was very flirty from the outset. I was flattered, but I've never been into younger men - I'm no cougar - so when he contacted me on Facebook, initially I tried to rebuff him.

But then, as I looked at the future I'd set myself, I figured I could allow myself one last fling.

My plans were to head to the clinic to start trying for a baby in the New Year, so I thought I could have three more carefree months before settling down to a more sober, sensible existence.

Though Ben and I got on well superficially, there was never any question of us becoming serious. As a realist, I knew he'd soon tire of an older woman - the age gap was as much a novelty for him as it was for me.

He worked in retail and we weren't really on the same wavelength. We had been dating for two weeks when I told him of my intention to become a mother the following year.

He didn't raise any objections. I suppose he didn't think it affected him either way; there was, as I say, a tacit understanding that it wasn't serious between us.

Then on December 4, I had a party for my 37th birthday. The wine flowed and afterwards that's when we threw caution to the wind. We had always used protection, but that was all forgotten.

As tipsy as I was, it struck me what could happen, but I never imagined I'd get pregnant first time - particularly at my age. But then I thought, what if I did? It would hardly be a disaster, would it? I'd also save myself a few thousand pounds at the clinic.

It was never my intention to trick Ben, but did I point that out sex was risky? Did I mention I wasn't on the Pill? Did I try to warn him I could get pregnant? No, I didn't.

My attitude at that moment was opportunistic. If it happened, it happened. And joyfully, it did. I took a pregnancy test on December 23. I'm a very open person and had told Ben I suspected I could be pregnant, and he didn't seem that interested. Not necessarily the best attitude towards such a momentous life-changing event, but I had no intention of making him play father to my child, so I wasn't unduly worried.

When I found myself staring at a positive pregnancy test, I was overwhelmed. I couldn't believe how lucky I'd been.

When I showed Ben, he just smiled. 'I guess this is what happens when we don't use contraception,' he shrugged.

I was under no illusion: I knew things would peter out between us as a result, but I didn't want to push him away. I wanted him to reach the decision of his own accord.

During the first trimester, I suffered badly with morning sickness and couldn't tolerate anyone or anything. Overnight I went from something of a socialite to staying in drinking smoothies - the only thing I could stomach. And unsurprisingly, Ben's interest in me began to wane.

In January, he went on holiday for a week, alone. I suppose he needed time to think. On his return, he came to see me.

'I don't want to be involved in the child's life,' he told me solemnly.

I was elated that I had got what I wanted. He had his whole life ahead of him: he needn't be tied down, particularly when I was sure I could do a better job alone.

And I wasn't going to ask him for financial help, which must have been a weight off his shoulders.

There was no argument. Ben left and that was the last I saw of him for six months. He didn't attend one scan or antenatal appointment, or check how I was, but that was fine by me. When I broke the news to my parents, they were delighted because they'd never expected me to have a baby. I had mentioned the possibility of going it alone via a fertility clinic, but I don't think they'd taken me seriously.

Mum actually said she was proud of me for 'going out and getting what I wanted on my own'. There was no admonishment about not being married or fears over my child not having a father.

Throughout the rest of my pregnancy, I was fired up with determination to go it alone. But at 38 weeks, doctors expressed concern over a scan - my baby was small - and decided to induce labour.

Terrified, I fell to pieces. I phoned a friend, a mother of three, and begged her to come with me. She was brilliant, and not for a moment did I wish I had Ben or any other man to hold my hand.

Hannah was born by emergency Caesarean in August 2011, weighing 5lb 2oz. Holding her in my arms was the best moment of my life.

Later that night I called Ben and told him he had a daughter. I was so elated I can't even remember what his reaction was.

He came to see Hannah - just the once. Watching him hold his baby daughter, I honestly didn't suffer any pangs for what might have been.

I wasn't heartbroken when he left: I actually couldn't wait to get on with life - just me and my baby.

I felt so proud of what my body had created. And for those first weeks and months I was on a high - as if I was walking on clouds.

I went back to work on reduced hours when she was nine months old. Hannah, like many children of working parents, went to a private nursery.

She is now four and we are very happy together. There are no rowing parents for her to contend with. It is all very peaceful. She has never asked about her daddy, but I know the time will come when she does. I haven't planned exactly what I will say, but it will be age appropriate.

When she is old enough to properly understand, I will explain in full. I will, of course, put a positive spin on the story: she was very much wanted and I would do anything for her.

And if she wanted to track down Ben, I'd help her. He hasn't so much as sent a birthday or Christmas card, but if he turned up on our doorstep, I wouldn't turn him away.

Meanwhile, I don't worry about Hannah lacking a male role model. We are sociable people and have lots of male friends.

I am also open to a relationship should the 'right' man come along, but I'm not interested in another 'accident'. Our life is perfect and I really couldn't afford another child.

So to all those single women longing for a family, I would say there is more than one option.

I don't advocate going to a nightclub, finding a man you barely know and having unprotected sex. But should the opportunity arise in safer circumstances, then so be it.

Names have been changed.

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