My wife and I were living in the Far East when I found out quite by accident that I was infertile. I had been referred to a local urologist for a routine minor complaint when, one day he telephoned my office to ask "did you give me a urine or a semen sample?" Clearly surprised, I half-jokingly replied 'a semen sample of course - why can't you tell"?

"Well I haven't got my notes in front of me but the analysis shows no sperm at all, so I was thinking it might have been a urine sample!"

Assuming that there must have been some mistake, I decided not to worry my wife unduly until I had returned a couple of weeks later having taken a course of tablets to stimulate sperm production.

The re-test showed the identical diagnosis. I was 100% azoospermic.

I remember walking out of the doctor's office in a daze. It just seemed impossible that on such a 'normal' day with the sun shining, I could be calmly told that I would most likely never have my own biological child - and there was nothing I could do about it.

As soon as I started to tell my wife that evening the floodgates opened, and we both cried in each others arms - it was one of the most devastating days of my life. From an emotional point I really felt that it was like all my future descendants had died that day. It just seemed so final and brutal. I also felt I was responsible not only for the fact that I had failed my wife in the most basic of male 'responsibilities' but had additionally failed my family in that, with both my parents dead I had failed in not continuing the line.

At the third visit, the doctor suggested a wild shot. He proposed conducting a biopsy of my testes that would involve taking a sample from both testicles, to see if there were any sperm cells present. If present, they could then be used to fertilise an egg by IVF. He acknowledged that the chances were low, but we immediately jumped at the chance. The operation was duly performed in Hong Kong, but sadly, despite the feeling of having been kicked by a horse, proved to be negative. They had found none.

It was at this point that we decided to get on a plane to London and visit some UK doctors. Surely there must have been some mistake. I think looking back, visiting different doctors allowed us to avoid the feeling that we had completely given up and to believe that in effect there might be someone out there who could treat me. Luckily the company that I was working for included male infertility in the company medical scheme.

Whether as a result of masochism or thoroughness, we visited 4 clinics. One, an eminent urologist, having examined my records, and with the pictures of his family resting on his desk said to me " there's nothing I can do, so you either adopt or use a donor, but there are probably too many people on the planet anyway"! I look back now and feel surprised that I didn't sock him one!

One of the other clinics however offered us a lifeline. The doctor having analysed my notes suggested that the result of the biopsy could have been incomplete. He told us that new evidence suggested that the production of sperm is not carried out evenly over the surface of the testicle and that it is therefore possible to miss very localised areas of sperm production if only one sample is taken from each testicle (as had been the case with my previous operation). His solution was to perform another operation where multiple samples would be taken so as to be sure as not to have missed any areas of sperm. Even if they were only to find one, this could then be used in conjunction with ICSI and IVF. So, back I went to the operating table, whilst my wife flew home.

We had discussed the fact that this, in all probability, really would be the final effort. I felt that I had owed it to myself and my wife to go the extra mile by having not one but two operations, but at some point we had to accept the inevitable. I know that my wife hoped that this doctor would answer our dreams but I feared the worst.

Three days after the operation, and whilst staying at my sister-in-law's house to recuperate, the doctor telephoned to say that he was terribly sorry, but the operation had been a complete failure. They had not found one sperm. To hear this a second time was almost worse than the first time because it was clear that this was the end. I retreated to the bathroom and sat in the bath once more in tears.

We decided to leave the whole thing for a few months, as we were both so emotionally drained by the whole thing. Whilst I don't think that at any time my wife blamed me for my condition, it just seemed that all we talked about was 'the problem' and possible solutions, and it started to get too much.

We had never really considered D.I. as my wife had assumed that I would have a problem with it. It was my brother who suggested it on the basis that as my wife was still healthy, why go through all the problems associated with adoption when we could still 'have our own'. Coming from him, it suddenly struck me that even if we couldn't have 100% of our own child, why throw away the chance to have 50% of our own child! D.I. was the way forward.

When we had been in London, as part of our fact-finding mission we had also visited three of the better-known D.I. clinics. Both of us were very concerned at the fact that the number of donors from which our perfect match would be made was in reality very low. Even the largest clinic admitted that they would make the choice from a universe of only 10 suitable people. Not only that, but we felt that the general attitude was patronising to the highest degree possible - "don't worry, you don't need to know all the details about the donor, we're pretty good at this sort of thing and we'll make the choice for you". For us, this was not acceptable. We felt strongly that we wanted to have not only a great deal more donors to choose from, but also to be able to make a better, more informed choice of the potential match.

It was at this point that a friend suggested going to the States as he had done. Using the internet, it was relatively easy to conduct a search of 'cryogenic storage facilities' and we eventually opted to investigate one in Washington DC a little bit further by taking our summer holidays in the US.

We followed directions to a high-tech industrial park where the company was located and met the doctor in charge. The essential message that came through loud and clear was that, like all medicine in the States, if you're prepared to pay for it, you just can't go wrong. The difference couldn't have been greater. We were shown a list of their active donors running into the hundreds, which they attributed to the fact that they heavily promote themselves around the local universities and pay the donors a commercial rate. Although the donors still maintain total anonymity the amount of information provided was equally impressive.

Having sifted out the clearly unsuitable candidates by height, race etc ,you can then obtain a full detailed sheet on your short list (for additional payment!). This provides details on eye colour, ear lobe type, (!) height, weight, hair colour and type, lip shape, nose angle etc etc. In addition, you are provided with similar details for his siblings (if any), his parents and also grandparents. Finally, to complete the picture you get details on medical history as well as interests, language skills and academic records for the whole family. By the end of it, I felt that I knew the donor and his family better than I knew my own!

The doctor was at great pains to point out that they will not advise on the choice of donor at all. They see their role as ensuring that the samples available have been exhaustively screened for disease and congenital abnormalities and that these are then supported by the type of information described. This is in total contrast to the British experience where we felt that we were essentially being asked to give up all personal involvement or choice in the process because "they know better".

A month later, we made our choice. The next bit seemed almost too easy. I paid by credit card for 10 samples, which was processed over the Internet. When I asked how it would arrive, I was told that Federal Express would be taking care of it. So there we had it - when in trouble, FedEx it!

It duly arrived. Another three months later and we were ecstatic to find out that my wife was pregnant.