Scottish Daily Mail

The men who left it too late for children

Stories of bitter regret that prove it’s not just women’s biological clocks ticking

- by Antonia Hoyle

UNDER the fading warmth of the winter sunshine Carl Halling watched a boy perched on his father’s shoulders, giggling as they bumped along the path.

He stood, transfixed, as the dad lowered his boy to the ground and planted a gentle kiss on top of his head.

Suddenly, there it was again. That wave of crushing regret and sadness, so great it caused a physical ache in Carl’s side. Yet again, he was reminded of the child he yearns for; of the years he wasted and of the realisatio­n that, at 61, he has almost certainly left it too late to be a father.

Loss of fertility has long been a concern of women. But fertility is becoming a man’s issue too — albeit one still mired in secrecy. Statistics from the Human Fertilisat­ion And Embryology Authority find that 49 per cent of IVF cycles carried out in Britain in 2014 were due to ‘male factors’ — an increase of 31 per cent since 2010.

This seems due in part to men not realising that their fertility also declines. In short, a generation of men may be leaving it too late to have children. According to the Office For National Statistics, the average age of a first-time dad was 33.1 in 2014, nearly four years older than it was four decades ago.

THE economic climate may be one reason, but more men are simply refusing to grow up, comfortabl­e in their belief that, as they are not the ones with a limited egg supply, there is no rush to procreate.

‘Studies show that as men get older — generally in their 40s — their sperm concentrat­ion and motility declines,’ says Kevin McEleny, a consultant urologist at Newcastle Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust, who specialise­s in male fertility.

‘Men don’t have the same knowledge of their bodies that women do. They have no markers of their fertility, such as a menstrual cycle, and often assume they will be naturally fertile.’

Carl describes his youth as ‘hedonistic’. From university on, he enjoyed a succession of brief flings and relationsh­ips.

‘I craved attention, but I was unable to commit and, when I fell in love, I was frightened by the strength of my feelings,’ he says.

‘Behind my bravado, I lacked the emotional intelligen­ce to tell women how I felt and the relationsh­ips ended.’

Working as a teacher, he spent much of his time trying to break into the acting industry. ‘I was obsessed by becoming famous and going to auditions,’ he admits.

Only in his 40s did his mindset change, but a period of depression that lasted much of his 40s put paid to a longterm relationsh­ip.

His longing for children started in his 50s when his depression lifted. ‘I suddenly found the time and inclinatio­n to meet up with friends I’d lost contact with towards the end of my 30s.’

‘I listened to stories of their children getting into university; I saw the bond they’d built with their wives from raising a child and my life seemed meaningles­s.’

Cruelly, he was diagnosed with an enlarged prostate around the same time he decided he wanted to have children. Carl believes his fertility could be compromise­d.

After that, he investigat­ed the option of co-parenting without having a relationsh­ip. But Carl abandoned the plans. ‘They were selfish,’ he admits. ‘A child needs a stable family unit.’ But he is tortured by regret.

If Carl were to become a father now, his child would have a higher risk of ill-health. Mr McEleny says fathers over 50 have an increased chance of having children with conditions such as autism.

Michael Ferguson, a 38-yearold probation officer from Leeds, has known for years he cannot father a child — a pain he says is ‘like bereavemen­t’.

His problems have already destroyed one long-term relationsh­ip and sabotage attempts at forming others. He has azoospermi­a, which means there are no viable sperm in his semen.

‘I wanted children who I could raise with manners and morals,’ he says. ‘I’d be a firm but fair dad who’d be home in time to read bedtime stories.’

But as a graduate, becoming a dad was the last thing on his mind. Only a decade ago, when he met Laura, a 28year-old nursery worker, did he feel ready. ‘We assumed it would happen quickly,’ he says. But it didn’t.

After a year they visited their GP, who took tests. ‘Even when he mentioned my poor sperm mobility I still didn’t feel I could be responsibl­e,’ says Michael.

After being referred to a urologist at Calderdale Royal Hospital in Halifax, in October 2006, he was diagnosed with azoospermi­a. A GENETIC condition, it can sometimes be treated with steroids or surgery. But after blood tests, Michael was told nothing could be done.

‘When I went home and tol Laura, “it’s me — I’m infertile,” I collapsed in tears. I felt emasculate­d.’ Within a year, their relationsh­ip had disintegra­ted. ‘Laura was supportive, but wanted children I couldn’t give her,’ he says.

He began internet dating in search of a woman to share his life with. ‘I decided to tell women on our first date that I couldn’t have children. I feel sick as I do so, but think it best to be honest.’ None have reacted as he had hoped so far. ‘Some said straight away they couldn’t see me if having children wasn’t an option. Others ditched me later.

‘As I approach 40 and nearly all my friends have children, I’m more conscious than ever that I can’t. I’d advise all men who want children to get on with it — they might not have the chance later.’

Part of the problem with male infertilit­y is that its causes often remain unknown. ‘We look at concentrat­ion of sperm in semen, and how well the sperm moves, which affects the chances of impregnati­on,’ says Kevin McEleny.

‘But while lifestyle factors and genetics play a part, a specific reason for poor sperm quality is rarely found.’

It’s something Scott Barnes, 49, is only too aware of, having tried for a baby for four years with his fiancee Claire, 37, before being told they were suffering from ‘unexplaine­d infertilit­y’ which he fears has been exacerbate­d by his age.

By the time the couple, from Cannock, Staffs, got together in 2011, Scott was 44. ‘Like most men, I didn’t think there was any rush. But falling in love with Claire made me realise I wanted to be a dad.’

They also assumed pregnancy would happen easily. ‘When it didn’t, we cried endless tears,’ says Scott, who proposed in 2012.

Blood tests and a sperm sample taken in January 2015 proved ‘inconclusi­ve’, Scott says: ‘I worried my age was to blame. I felt a huge failure and started to panic.’

In August 2015, they paid £3,200 for a cycle of IVF at Birmingham Women’s Hospital. Eight weeks later, Claire, an administra­tion officer for the police, was pregnant.

Louis was born in June. Scott will care for him when Claire returns to work. At 49, he doesn’t have the energy of younger dads, but knows how lucky he is. ‘Louis makes me smile every day. I love the way he grips my fingers and falls asleep on my chest and I feel full of unconditio­nal love.’

It is a feeling that, sadly, many men of Scott’s generation may never experience.

 ?? Picture: GETTY ?? Childless: Carl, left, fears he may be infertile
Picture: GETTY Childless: Carl, left, fears he may be infertile

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