Hi, everyone. It’s hard to believe that it’s been six months since my last post. So much has happened since then, and I needed time to process everything. There have been many ups and downs in this journey that, at times, seems never ending. New information has left me feeling shocked, numbed, and sometimes depressed. But I’ve also experienced feelings of unimaginable gratitude, happiness, and down right joy. Thank you all for being a part of my story. Sharing with you has been extremely healing and rewarding. If you aren’t up to date, or need a refresher, read blogs 1, 2, and 3.

 

An update regarding my birth mother

One of the most common questions that I’ve encountered since writing my blog is, “Has your mom finally told you the truth?” The answer, sadly, is no.

We have spoken a few times since I posted my last blog 6 months ago, and even when confronted with an avalanche of evidence and information, she has yet to admit that I was donor conceived and that my father isn’t biologically related to me. It’s a maddening and frustrating charade that continues to cause me a lot of pain. Because she won’t admit the truth (which is backed up by scientific fact), that means that we cannot even begin to have an honest conversation. She is perhaps the only person in the world that can provide insight into the details of how and why I was conceived. The unfortunate truth is that, even under these extraordinary circumstances, her character remains the same as it always has been. There is a saying that I repeat in my mind whenever feelings of frustration bubble up: “You can’t change someone who doesn’t have an issue with their actions.” To put my energy towards trying to change her or get answers will only lead me down a painful road. And I’m pretty sure that road has a dead end.

Yes, I wish things were different. I wish she would tell me what I deserve to know. And to be honest, I think that the truth is far more complicated and twisted than just a married couple seeking fertility help. My life is now filled with a lot of questions that I don’t have the answers to, and I have to come to terms with the reality that I may never know the truth. If I don’t find peace with that fact, I’ll spend my life looking back instead of looking forward.

“Instead of wasting my time on anger and resentment,

I’d rather invest my time in love and contentment.”

-Karen Salmansohn

I am beyond grateful to have a great support system. My husband, my children, the woman I now consider my mama, my siblings, countless friends, relatives, and even strangers who have heard my story, stand by me no matter what. In the grand scheme of things, I wouldn’t change a thing. Well…it would be awesome if my dad was here, and if he was the donor to my siblings. I would be one happy daughter. But I was lucky enough to have him for 18 years, and now I have the greatest siblings. Because of them and my dad’s legacy, I have the strength for the journey ahead and I can’t imagine this life without them.

I have always been the type that does better with more information than less; I do not hide from the truth. It is my goal to continue to search for answers, and in time, reach out to new relatives and siblings as I learn about them via different DNA databases. Each new match brings about new clues and answers about my genetic background, as well an understanding of why I am the way I am. I think that other donor conceived or adopted children can understand the intense drive to know where you came from. Despite the hardships, so much beauty has come into my life as a result of learning more about my genetic makeup. It’s amazing to be able to realize that certain aspects of my personality come from the way I was nurtured, and others come from nature – my genes. Because of this, my siblings and I have continued to submit our DNA to additional sites in an attempt to further our understanding of who we are and where we came from.

 

The donor – could it really be him?

One busy morning a few months back, I received a text from my brother Tim. We talk on the phone quite a bit, and he usually just texts, “Hey, can you chat?” But this time, he asked me specifically if I was available at 10:30 am. I knew something was up. I tried to put it out of my mind all morning so that I wouldn’t drive myself insane, but the curiosity was all consuming. At 10:30 on the dot, I answered the call as soon as my phone began to ring. Tim said, “Hi,” and then I heard the voice of my other brother, Loren, greeting me as well. The fact that both of them were on the line told me that something important was about to take place.

I could hear Tim take a deep breath on the other end. “So I got the latest genealogy results from Ancestry.com,” he started. There was a big pause. “I think I found the donor.”

I immediately burst into tears. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even process all the emotions that were washing over me. My brothers were worried about me and I managed to eek out, “I’m ok.” I wasn’t, but maybe if I said it out loud, I could convince myself that I was. To be honest,  I was completely taken aback by my reaction to the news. The idea of a donor was still relatively new to me, and I hadn’t quite wrapped my mind around what finding the donor would mean. So why was I such a mess?

I told my brothers that I needed a minute. I didn’t want to scare my kids, so I had my husband take over and let myself out into the yard. I started pacing, back and forth. I could feel the tears running down my face. My dad’s face flashed in front of me. I wished more than anything that he could have been there with me.

“Ok,” I said shakily while I continued to pace, “I’m ready.” I let my brothers speak. The first thing that registered was that they both seemed happy. Even though that was not my first reaction, It made sense that this would be good news to them. They had been looking for so long. All I could hope for was that if this man that Tim had found was our donor, that he was a good person. That has been my wish from the start. But up until that moment, all we’d known about him was that he was tall, blue eyed, and at the time of donation, was a Berkeley Grad student.

Tim started out by explaining that after submitting his DNA profile to Ancestry.com, he matched with a first cousin named Jenny on his paternal side. A first cousin is a significant find. One of Jenny’s parents would be our biological aunt or uncle, which means that one of their siblings would be the donor. Tim and Loren started digging deeper. If they could find one of Jenny’s uncles, they just might find the donor.

Jenny had already partially filled out her family tree on the site, and from what they could see, she only had one uncle. Could it really be this easy? They plugged his name into google. The results came back with a professional profile page –  and they both knew instantly that it was him. We’ll call him Richard. Richard appeared to be in his 60s or early 70s, with blue eyes, and a graduate degree from – you guessed it – UC Berkeley. His graduation date lined up perfectly with our conception dates. Bingo.

Tim and Loren went on to tell me wonderful things about him. Richard appeared to be successful, with an respectable profession. He seemed happy, fulfilled – overall, an admirable human being. I was overjoyed and beyond relieved. Many of his professional achievements involved passions that the three of us share. Somehow that made me feel connected to him. It wasn’t a father/daughter connection – but it helped me to understand a little about why I am the way I am. My brothers were equally excited.

As upending as this experience has been in my life, being donor conceived is still new to me, unlike my brothers who have lived with this knowledge for decades. I was so happy that they were finally getting the answers they had been seeking for years. I couldn’t imagine what this must mean to them. Loren told me that it had been his idea for the three of us to be on the line when they shared the news with me. He knows me well; I couldn’t imagine that moment without both of them there. Even though we were not raised together, we are family.

 

Reaching out

We all knew immediately that we wanted to make some kind of contact. But how? That simple question took us down a complicated rabbit hole where we had to consider every angle of this unconventional situation. We wanted to be sensitive to the fact that up until this moment in time, we were probably viewed as “hypothetical children” in Richard’s eyes, the potential products of sperm donation 30+ years ago. We could see online that he had a family, a life, and an illustrious career. The last thing we wanted to do was to rock his world in a negative way. We were also a bit apprehensive that he would misconstrue our intentions. I’ve learned that it’s a common fear of donors and their natural families that donor conceived children may someday try to stake a claim on their financial assets. We had to be clear in our message and make sure that he knew our intentions were good.

We had three main goals in reaching out to Richard. One, we wanted to connect the dots of our paternal history – to fill in the blanks and find answers that only the donor could provide. Two, we were interested in learning a bit about his character. As I’ve said before, it’s always been important to us to feel deep down that the man who makes up half of us is a good human being. And three, we wanted to know if there was any important health information that we should know about, not just for ourselves, but for our children.

I can’t speak for Tim or Loren, but I have always known that if we ever found the donor someday, I would not be seeking a relationship. In no way did Richard feel like a “long lost dad.” I had the only dad I ever wanted or needed. However, the reality is that the donor is half of me, and it’s human nature to wonder where I came from. We all knew that we would regret it if we let this opportunity to reach out to him slip away. Before we found Richard, we had no idea if the donor was even still alive. So many answers seemed to be within our reach; we just wanted to make sure that we asked our questions in the right way.

The following weeks were filled with more research and countless conversations between us. We decided to write a letter to Richard, explaining who we are, how we came to find his information, and to tell him what we were seeking in reaching out to him. We tried to put ourselves in his shoes. What would it feel like to suddenly be contacted by three adult children with real faces and names and families – and to know that you had a part in creating all of that? When we were conceived in the late 70s and early 80s, all families and donors were assured that the entire process was anonymous. It would be a shock to learn, all these years later, that technology has essentially nullified that anonymity. In short – this isn’t really what he signed up for.

Another fear that we could not shake was a big “What if?” What if we sent the letter and never heard anything back at all? We wanted to be extremely mindful that despite our best intentions, the letter could be seen as an intrusion into Richard’s life. We had to come to terms with the fact that he might not want to have any contact with us, and we were ready to be respectful of his privacy if that was the case. But what if he didn’t get the letter? How would we make peace with his silence if we couldn’t be sure he’d even received it? We decided the safest way to ensure his privacy and also confirm that he’d gotten the information was to send the letter via courier. We agonized over the wording, and felt an enormous amount of pressure in deciding exactly what to say. We wrote, edited, re-wrote, and discussed every aspect. We introduced ourselves and explained how we’d come to find his information. And then, we asked THE question. Here is an excerpt of the letter:

 

Through our mothers’ recollections of their experiences when we were conceived, we know very little about our donor. Tim’s mom requested to have a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. Loren’s mom recalls being told that the donor she used was a graduate student at UC Berkeley. That is pretty much all we know. After genetically matching with Jenny on Ancestry.com (our cousin and your niece) we unearthed your name. After seeing your picture, reading about your commendable academic and professional career, and having it fall within the time frame of all of our conception dates, we are left in a state of wondering if what seems to be the truth actually is. So we are humbly asking: Is it possible that you are our donor?

 

With anxious hearts, we arranged for the letter to be delivered to Richard. I hoped and prayed that we were doing the right thing and that our letter would be well received. After months of research, we had done the unthinkable in locating our donor. Now, all we could do was wait for his reply.

 

This blog was written in collaboration with Annika Campos. Some names have been changed for privacy reasons.