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What would you do if you were told you had no right to access information about your own identity? From a cheeky little girl, to a determined young woman; this is my story.
I have a few weeks off uni now and I am so happy to have the time to think. I have been numb to all of this for a while. I think for self preservation reasons I need to do other things for a bit.
I don't know what I am getting at really. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy.... that to want to know my father is a huge ask. I wonder how people can so carelessy and easily manipulate people's families to benefit themselves..... How someone could deny another human being something so fundamental as their identity. I don't get it. Sometimes it's like being caught in a really bad dream. You can see the clarity of it and no one else can. When I meet people who understand I thank God. There are decent humans on Earth! Praise the LAWWWWWD!
Lately I have been trying not to get so worked up about all of this, and it's been working. But then there is like this constant buzzing in my soul that doesn't stop. No matter what I do it travels with me. I can ignore it now and then. Sometimes I have to forget my situation...... Sometimes I don't want to be donor conceived. I want to be a normal kid (sure, what's normal?) who doesn't have to think about any of this. I have been forced to grow up and I am feeling like an old woman. I want to feel 23. In some ways I do of course.... hrmmmm.
Ok, I will sign off now. Not sure where my head is at.
http://news.sbs.com.au/insight/mmarchive.php
It took me around 6 months from the time of sending a letter inquiring to find that out, but that's a whole other story. The wait was worth it, but then what of the time I have missed with them?
Where are they? Who are they? What are they like? Do we go to uni together? More questions.
I was able to find out the there are 4 other girls and 3 boys.
I have always wanted a brother, and then suddenly upon knowing this information i had 3!!
I have always wanted to be a big sister so that i could spoil my little sibling like my sister spoilt me.
I wasn't aware at the time of initially sending my letter, that I was able to know their years of birth, as it is "non-identifying" information.
So a second letter went out with a much faster reply, thankfully. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.
The letter told me that 3 of the girls were born the same year as me, all 3 boys were born the year after me and the last girl was born in 1985.
I am a big sister!!!!!!!!!! I walked around the house saying that for quite a while.
I can't tell you what went through my mind, my heart and soul all at once when i read this news. I was overwhelmed with this feeling of a harsh reality, as though they had been born, yet cruelly i realised they may as well be dead to me, for i can never know them. I have no right to................
This is how the legislation has situated me from my own family.
To this day I think about them and yearn to know them. None of us agreed to be kept from each other. I am certain most if not all of them don't even know the truth about their birth origins. What about my brothers? How do they fare if they do know? Does their dad look after them? Do they want to find their biological father too? Are they too scared to step forward? I wonder if their perceptions of fatherhood have changed... they must have?
I have no idea, and once again this is the hardest thing to come to terms with.
The not knowing is frustrating, heartbreaking, unfair.
On that day my search stretched out to include a definate 8 people, my 'other' siblings and T5. This is of course not including the rest of my paternal family, but these people I know are connected to me and I will search for them until i die.
You know when someone says to you "Hey you look just like this girl i know..." or, "You look so familiar!". Imagine what goes through my head when people say that!
My mum even saw some girl she thought was me...... friends tell me they saw someone they thought may have been one of my sisters. Am i passing them on the street? It's really mind boggling.
So much so that I haven't told my dad about this still. Maybe he will find this before i tell him? I'm not sure why i haven't told him.... I have planned to, but there's never been a right moment. In some ways i think i am protecting him.. He will be so confused by this. It's one thing to think it might be a possibility to knowing that it is so. And then what if he plays it down and doesn't understand how important it is for me to find them? Still, I should tell him. It's just hard.
When you are a child, or someone's daughter or son, i think you like to protect your parents more than they know.
I am doing a subject at uni as a part of my social work degree about loss and grief. Last week we looked at grief and children. It was mainly focussed on how children deal with the death of a parent or some one close to them. Someone in the class asked the lecturer "What about children whose parents have died and whom they have not yet met?" This made me think about the parallels to this situation and DC of course.
And the answer to that question.... well my friends you will have to stay tuned. As that is another entry's worth of ponderings and revelations.
It wasn't until I was 18 years old that I went to see a counsellor about this. I remember vividly the bus ride there, trying to anticipate what it would be like to speak with this woman.
When I got there I found that she was a really lovely person and easy to speak to. She told me that she usually counselled couples considering "treatment" and that I was the first donor conceived person she had spoken to. I was a little surprised by this, and felt like in a way we were both in the same boat, session wise. She did the best she could given the situation. And now that I am studying social work and about to go on my first placement, I realise that she did extremely well given she had never come across a similar client. She had gathered some flyers and pages from books, that in hindsight helped so much. One was the details of a support group, with contact numbers on the back, another lot of papers was photocopied from a publication called "Let the Offsping Speak", a small collection of stories from other donor conceived people.
On the bus ride home I read through the stroies. There was one in particular that I related to SO much that it caused me to start crying on the bus ride home. I was crying because I was so happy that someone else felt like me, and because now I knew that what I had been keeping so private was something real... I wasn't going crazy!
Up until that point I felt as though I was the only donor conceived person in the world, and as though it would remain that way forever. To an extent I had tried to bury my feelings because of this fact.
I think it might have been a few months or even a year later when I decided to call someone on the back of the support group brochure. I noticed that the person's story with whom I related to on the bus ride home, shared the same name as someone on the back of the brochure. A long shot I thought, but perhaps this would be a good point to start.
Now can you imagine what was going through my head?! I had thought about it a lot. I paced the house, doing everything but sitting in front of the phone and dialing the number. What would I say? "Hello I am donor conceived, can we chat"??? I was freaking out!! I didn't know these people... calling a stranger for a deep and meaningful? It seemed so weird to me, but then I thought, "Well if they have their name on this thing as a point of contact they can't be too bad!"
I took the plunge and a lady answered. I can't remember what I said exactly, but once I told her I was donor conceived she was all ears and so lovley. She was the mother of the donor conceived person I wanted to speak to. We spoke for what seemed like a few minutes, but was in fact abour an hour. She told me her child was living interstate and gave me their number. And so I called this person a few nights later.
This conversation felt easier and it was such a relief to share stories and feelings that were so similar. I was estatic when I hung up the phone. I was not alone! I had spoken to a real live human being who knew what I was talking about.
The next opportunity I had, from my memory (a lot of these events seem hazy now), was a conference being held by an adoption support group here in Melbourne. I can't remember how I found out about it, but I went along not sure what to expect. It was a pretty heavy evening, to say the least, however I got the chance to meet some other donor conceived people, in the flesh! This was a real turning point for me.
Since then I have felt at most ease when with other donor conceived people or with adoptees, who have really supported me through the years. So many people think that adoption and donor conception are different, but really they are not. One is not intentional and the other is. The consequences of both for the resulting person, I have found, almost mirror eachother.
When I am with these people I feel like I truly belong somewhere. I feel most at home. I feel like I won't be questioned about something so important to me as my own family, my own identity. I can cry and not feel ashamed. We can laugh about it together, but no one else can. This is our inner circle... this is how I survive my pain and my loss.
Like I commented to Rhonda, I feel as though every time I meet another person in my position I am happy, although it is so bittersweet, because in order for us to have met we must have suffered a great loss. As Rhonda pointed out however, "It is definitely a club I wish I, and others like me, didn't belong to. Still, I'm glad for the company."
And I am too. Thank you to all those I have met so far who have helped me in my journey more than you can imagine, including those I have only met very recently through this very blogging site.
I should also mention at this point that although I do feel most "at home" with adoptees and DC people, I too have some amazing people around me without whom I would be lost. My sister is one of those people. A handful of friends and family who are really there for me, I would be lost without too. I think that without all of these people I would not be able to be as honest and active. I am very lucky in this regard.
It's so hard to explain how I feel otherwise, and on most days. Almost that I am half connected to this earth. If i could draw a picture for you, it would be of me floating above the earth, not too far above (I am not implying i am a heavenly creature :p) connected with a half chewn rope, on a cloud and watching others from this space. I don't feel completely connected and I don't think I really ever will unless I can find the answers I am looking for.
The mirror is a monster, it’s my worst enemy; I see questions instead of answers. I don’t see a whole person; I see a fragmented piece of art that is yet to be signed. I see a stranger who is strangely familiar.
I wrote this as a part of a piece for a non-fiction writing class I took last year. I really like it and I think it captures a part of what I feel about myself and my identity.
After I was told about my conception I became a different person. There was a line drawn in the sand; the me before I was told and the me after. On the outside and to others I am sure I seemed the same. I subconciously burried this information and chose not to deal with it until I was older, at least until I had finished school. I know this is something I did not verbalise or really think about doing, but looking back I know this is what I did, perhaps as a coping mechanism of sorts.
I would ask so many questions, usually when I was laying in my bed at night. Some of these questions still haunt me today.
