Around the same time that I met the first of my paternal cousins in New York, James let me know that a friend of a friend whose mother is adopted (still with me?) was interested in finding her birth family and was seeking out help.  I guess one of his friends knew that James had done some genealogical research in the past, so they contacted him.  He then forwarded the request to me (probably because the woman mentioned that her mother had already taken an AncestryDNA test).

I immediately told him to put her in contact with me–surely at this point I’ve gained enough knowledge in the arena that I should be able to be of SOME help to this woman.  Various strangers, like Gel, have been so helpful to me in my own search that I’ve felt compelled to pass the buck forward.  Besides, it’s always fun to find someone else as interested and invested in this stuff as me so that we can geek out together (instead of talking at someone about the intricacies of the search and watching as their eyes glaze over…and I become fearful that I may soon have a zombie on my hands).

Anyway, Michelle, the woman’s daughter, reached out to me shortly thereafter and we spoke on the phone for at least an hour.  She told me all about what she and her mother had accomplished on her search so far, and I asked a million questions while taking notes, trying to piece every angle together.  Then I dumped a mother load (no pun intended) of additional information, resources, and strategies on her.

At first, I worried that perhaps I was overwhelming her.  But, a few days later, I heard from Dawn (her mother) directly, and she had already taken most of the steps I had mentioned!  She’s QUITE the savvy lady.  In fact, as luck would have it, within just a few days of our initial correspondence, she was able to get in touch with a “new” cousin of her own who would provide just the breakthrough she needed.  A few days later, she had spoken to her biological half-sister for the first time, and was being welcomed into the family.  Unfortunately for her, her biological mother had already passed, and she still doesn’t know just yet who her birth father is, but at least she has a start to reclaiming her biological family’s roots.  Hearing her talk about how much this reunion has meant to her, and to her biological family, brought me such whole-hearted joy–it’s a miracle and amazing.

And, importantly, it honestly does nothing to diminish her ties to her social (adoptive) family.  In the chemistry of such equations, finding biological family only adds bonds, it doesn’t subtract or substitute.  After all, energy can neither be created nor destroyed.  It can, however, be rediscovered and catalyzed.  Those of us who have been disconnected from our biological families for so long can feel whole again, and society can catalyze this by recognizing and honoring the fact that families like ours are inherently made up of more parts than the traditional family model “allows”.

That’s one reason why, while I have very few issues with the use of donor conception (or adoption, of course, except under cases of coercion or lack of support of the birth parents to raise their biological children if that IS what they originally wanted to do), I do take issue with keeping a person’s origins a secret from them for life.  Increasingly, psychiatry is encouraging adoptive families to disclose their child’s biological origins early, normalizing this component of their family’s story.  Similarly, open-adoptions are steadily becoming the norm. This change has stemmed from, as a society, growing our understanding that deception should never be the basis of any relationship, least of all one as close and formative as that between a child and his/her parents.  After all, if you find that you cannot trust your parents, any hope of having other fully trusting relationships in one’s life is immediately (and understandably) shaken.

Further, we’re beginning to understand (as several other countries pave the way) that a child’s understanding of his/her biological origins is not only fundamental to their growing identity, but a basic human right.  Just as children born into traditional birth families have a right to know their biological identities, establish relationships with their immediate and extended biological family members, and know what can be known about their medical family histories, so, too, should all children have this right.  At the very least, upon reaching the age of 18, and becoming an adult in the eyes of society (thus no longer legally subject to the discretion and decision-making authority of their parents), a person should no longer have such a fundamental truth hidden from them.  It’s not something bad, or something to be ashamed of, and thus not something to be “protected” from–especially not as an adult.

Of course I understand, as I’ve noted earlier, that parents who make the choice to hide their child’s genetic origins are, more often than not, just trying to do what they believe is in their child’s best interest.  After all, for a long time, conventional wisdom WAS that hiding the truth was best.  Or, at the very least, that there would be no purpose to disclosing the truth, since it was believed that the children a.) didn’t have any reason to know–that it wouldn’t make a difference and b.) would never know any different anyway.

The fact that the commercial DNA testing industry is quickly exploding in popularity seems to indicate otherwise.  While not true of everyone, a lot of people DO care to know about their ancestral origins and biological relationships.  Also, the prevalence of these tests are quickly rendering the idea of “closed” adoptions and “anonymous” donors a moot practice.  From this point forward, children WILL be exponentially more likely to find out (whether they test or, down the road, one of their offspring does), and I can say from first-hand experience (as do the vast majority of others in this boat who I’ve talked to) that finding out something like this is incredibly impactful to one’s identity, and on what feels like a cellular level.  While not taking away (whatsoever!) from our social bonds to our adoptive families/members, and whether old-school society likes it or not, the drive to know your immediate biological family is, for many of us, an innate one–and exceptionally strong.  Society may ask us to stifle it, and we may successfully internalize this in some cases or for a time.  Yet, ultimately, it is nature. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned in my studies of Biobehavioral Health, it’s that both nature AND nurture are powerful, and neither can be fully removed from an equation.

We can have families of a million different sorts these days, and each formulation, born out of love, is beautiful.  That said, I can’t help but think that these new family formations are doing a disservice to their children if they are not only asking us to deny our natural instinct to also have some form of relationship with our natural parents (when healthily possible), but also dictating this denial through guilt.  Forcing us to choose who we love, as if it is ever truly a choice in this instance, is its own form of cruel and unusual punishment, especially since it’s punishment absent a crime.  Such an insistence, especially by those who love us most, feels confusing and devastating, and is ultimately inhumane. We were never a part of the decision-making that put us in this man-made “dilemma” of supposedly finite, conflicting love in the first place–we were born into it through the choices of our natural and adoptive families alike.  We should not be put in a position to feel ashamed of our basic human instinct to be connected in some way with our biological families.  On all sides of the equation, we are capable of so much more love and empathy than that, especially for those we care about most.  It doesn’t (or shouldn’t) harm our adoptive parents to make space for these instincts, as there is infinite room when we are treating each other with and operating from a place of love.  It knows no bounds, only human insecurity does.

Society has, for many years, defined the model of what shape and structure loving families must take. Yet the truth is that, as is true with many things in society, the model is an out-dated one and its confining restrictions are self-imposed.  We can free ourselves, our families, and the future health of our relationships from this thinking.  There is always room for more love, and no one member needs to feel under threat when we understand this. Families formed as ours are simply ARE composed of more parts than traditional ones, and that’s okay so long as we hold space for and honor this truth.  Putting on a blinders and creating artificial barriers won’t help, and these days they are only temporary bandages to something that can’t be contained later down the road.  Better to deal with it now.

While it might not feel ideal to have to navigate such complicated family relationships, and it’s probably not what most couples struggling with infertility dreamed their families would look like when they were kids, it does seem to me that, these days, especially given the advancements in technology, we have to accept that starting a healthy, open, and loving family under these circumstances requires that we do so thoughtfully and holistically. Certainly there will be situations where it won’t be in the best interest of the child to have his/her biological family in their life, but that will more often be the exception rather than the rule.  And, as with most areas in life, we must also approach our expanding configurations of (equally valid, loving) family models with the best interests/future rights of the child at the heart of our decision-making.  Our relationships can’t afford for us not to, and I think this is something that most of us, as difficult as it may be to confront at first, know in our hearts is right.

The wait to receive Adam’s AncestryDNA results, let alone Darrin’s, has been exceptionally long and grueling.  Typically, results take up to two months to be received.  However, due to so many people purchasing kits as gifts over the holidays (yay! more people can unpack their identities and connect with new family!) AncestryDNA’s processing lab has been WAY the heck backed up (boo).  Adam’s kit was mailed out at the beginning of February.  Darrin’s was mailed and received at the lab the week after.  Despite the fact that both kits were technically received as of February 14th, (interestingly? coincidentally? the universe works in mysterious ways…) they didn’t begin to be processed until the end of April.  Good Lord.  I love this organization, but they need to pick up the pace on that front!

On the morning of my friend’s wedding, I got an email that Adam’s results were in.  With only a few seconds of hesitation, I opened the email and clicked into the results.  Nothing unusual to report–thank God!  His ancestral breakdowns were very similar to mine, and he popped up in my match list as a full-sibling.  I briefly scrolled through his match list to see if any other helpful clues were there, but then needed to get ready for the wedding for real.

As happy as I was to see that his results were as expected, I also couldn’t help but feel a bit sad for our Dad.  Part of me was holding out hope that, possibly, one of his swimmers had made its way to that last egg.  Maybe the third of us would bear his biological mark.  But, regardless, we are still and always will be his.  He raised us and showed enough love, care, and dedication to put countless biological fathers out there to shame.  He is our Dad, always, and regardless of the messiness of the rest of this, I will always be eternally grateful for that fact.

That said, seeing Adam’s results come in jolted me into the reality that it couldn’t be long now before Darrin’s results come in.  And how could anyone prepare themselves for that?  I didn’t have to deal with it earlier when the tests had just been submitted, and I knew I didn’t have to really worry about it until Adam’s results came back, indicating that Darrin’s were likely only a week behind.  How would I feel if his results revealed that he wasn’t the one?  That he was only a first cousin once removed, as I was increasingly suspecting after finding more matches with surnames linked to the other Reilly line?  And it crushed me to think of what Darrin would be feeling–he really seemed excited that we could be (biologically, of course) his.  He had already been so generous to even open his heart to the possibility of us at all, let alone step up to take the test.  I really didn’t want to be the cause of any pain or disappointment he might feel if the test showed that we are related only at the cousin level.

But it’s been out of my hands, our hands–it was up to fate now.

A few days later, I got a message from my new-found cousin who I had just met in NYC, Danielle.  It was through the 23andMe platform.  She had just received her test results.  I had forgotten entirely that she had tested with the company at all.  When she told me over lunch when we met, I assumed her results would have to come in after Darrin’s.  I was wrong.

When I logged into my 23andMe account, there she was on my match list.  In the second cousin range.

I was devastated. No, no, no I didn’t want to find out this way!  And what would I say to Darrin’s family?  Although maybe this was just a fluke–sometimes it happens at that genetic distance for you to share slightly out of typical range DNA levels with a relative.  But this was just one more indication that we probably weren’t biologically Darrin’s, but Keith’s.

While I knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world either way, just as I had been holding onto hope that Adam might biologically be my Dad’s, and despite increasing suggestions to the contrary, I have still holding onto hope that we might be Darrin’s biological kids.  There are a few reasons for this.  For one thing, at least with Darrin, we already knew that he actually wants to know and have some sort of relationship with us. It would still be a complicated thing to navigate, as he wouldn’t be our parent, yet he would be our biological father.  For another, if Darrin is our biological father (I’m going to start abbreviating this as BF for now), than we know that we were never any sort of commodity to him.  We were never sold.

While I haven’t really talked about that aspect of things here, the thought that your biological father may have literally SOLD you to a another family (albeit through a third-party and before you were fully conceived) feels pretty weird.  And, honestly, kind of shitty.  It’s also yet another reason why the term sperm “donor” sort of sounds like the wrong terminology.  You’re not really “donating” something if you’re getting paid to do it.  Now, just because you happen to be getting paid for something doesn’t mean that you’re not also providing a helpful service–many of us in the non-profit sector live in this reality every day.  However, I can’t imagine that MOST sperm “donors” would have still chosen to “donate” if they weren’t ALSO being paid.

Regardless of whether or not our BF was paid for both creating and instantly severing his parental connection to us (at least legally), that wouldn’t mean that he’s a bad person.  There are many ways to make the same amount of money, and at least this particular way ultimately allowed a new kind of family to be born.  Our Dad became our Dad.  My Mom got to experience pregnancy and become our Mom.  Besides, recent surveys of sperm and egg donors has suggested that many “donors” would have selected an “open donation” if it had been presented as an option–it’s just that anonymous donations have been the only option available in most clinics, certainly until much more recently.  Also, just because someone may have prefered to be anonymous originally and may have, at the time, taken the use of their gametes to create a birth child of theirs for someone else lightly, that doesn’t mean that they’re always felt that way since.  I could rattle off countless far less significant decisions I’ve made as a 21-year-old that I would love to love to do differently if I only had the chance.  That’s just not how time works.

Yet sometimes the universe gives us another chance.  That chance is certainly becoming the norm as more and more people choose to test.

Four days after Danielle’s results came in, so did Darrin’s.

Suddenly, there he was on my match list.

But in the cousin section.

We are Keith’s.

I had been so close to a happy ending’s start–the opportunity for the meaningful connection I craved with the other half my biological kin was already guaranteed, if only Darrin’s results had come back slightly differently .  It’s just hard to be so close and yet wind up having the thing that you’re essentially biologically programmed to be invested in taken away by fate.  Granted, it’s not impossible that Keith and his wing of the family will feel the same way as Darrin’s, but it’s certainly not a sure thing, either.

As much as finally finding out the identity of your BF is a gigantic win in its own right—to finally have at least that much truth—it’s only the beginning.  You now have a name, and maybe a picture (courtesy of some savvy googling), but that doesn’t tell you a hell of a lot more about your biological identity than its absence.  It certainly doesn’t fill the connection void.  What is he like?  Is he a good man?  What traits do I get from him?  Where does he show up in my brothers’ faces and their idiosyncrasies?  What parts of him do I share with our other biological siblings?

Our other biological siblings.  My brothers have always had a sister, but I never have.  I now have at least two.  And another brother.

Not only do I not know how Keith and my newest siblings will respond to our eventual outreach, but I had no idea how Meredith and Darrin would react to learning that we’re not her niece and nephews, and not his biological children, after all.  Maybe it would be too hard on Darrin for them to even maintain much of a connection after he had gotten his hopes up.  And would they really still be as interested in knowing us if we’re a little further away genetically than we hoped? Or will we wind up losing them, too?  That was an equally painful proposition.  To have a connection, then have it taken away.

It was too overwhelming, and I couldn’t even BEGIN to fathom how I could gently break the news to Meredith (and, in turn, Darrin).  I had to let myself succumb to sleep, my only escape from the present situation.

…

Several hours later, I messaged Meredith:

Then I said a little prayer and went about my day.

About an hour or so later, she messaged a response.  As per usual, I was completely blown away by the love that was shown. While they were disappointed, too, that Darrin is not our BF, they couldn’t have been more clear that they’re still 100% supportive and glad that we were able to find one another.  We even established that, even though I’m not technically her niece, she would be honored to be my honorary Aunt.  Words cannot describe how touching and heartwarming that was.  I hadn’t lost them all after all.

And Meredith was already brainstorming next steps.  She asked if I knew how and when I’d like to reach out to Keith, even offering to make the connection if that would make us more comfortable.

Ultimately, though, we agreed that it might be best to start out with a certified letter.  That way, I could get out all my brothers and I wanted to say at once.  However we approach him, it’s going to come as a shock, but at least absorbing the news in the form of a letter wouldn’t put him on the spot quite as much as a sudden phone call would.  I don’t want him to feel pressured to have to both navigate his own feelings and figure out how respond in-the-moment to something as high stakes as this.  It seems like the kind of thing that he might want to have some time to process, then come back to when he’s ready.  I can leave contact information, and even some pictures of us growing up.  That way, we’re REAL PEOPLE, and not just names on a page (which can more easily be discarded).  I can also let him know how I found out about all of this, and the degree to which the extended family is already looped in.  And, importantly, that the extended family has already embraced this news–potentially relieving any concerns around what their perceptions might be.

The next day, I got another message from Danielle, letting me know that she heard the news and was there if I wanted to talk.  She even offered to connect me with our sisters, who she knows fairly well.  We spoke for a bit, and she assured me that, no matter what, we’re still family and it’s truly a miracle that we were able to find each other.  I was really glad that she brought that up, because it truly is incredible that we’ve gone from never knowing each other existed for 30 or so odd years to finally connecting in the flesh.  It hasn’t been an easy road, and has taken a lot of work, but also a lot of what I can only describe as divine intervention.  I’m not a religious person, but I do believe that there is some sort of power that connects us.  Over and over again, various forms of synchronicity and perfectly timed fortunate have appeared to guide and further the search.

More than anything else, though, this whole experience has shown me what it means to show true compassion, empathy, and love to fellow human beings.  This has been demonstrated in such extraordinary ways not only by Meredith, Darrin, Danielle, and their family members, who could just have easily treated me as a stranger, but every bit as exceptionally by my parents through their strength in trusting the unshakable natural of our core bond, openness to learning about and understanding my drive to know and connect with my roots, and their blessing in exploring “Who I Also Am”.  All absent egos.  Rising above.  This is what love looks like. With awe-inspired gratitude, I am incredibly proud that this is the type of family that I come from, and the caliber of people I have in my life.

At the end of the day, the decision on how to proceed is going to be in his and God’s hands.  In the meantime, we’ll be doing a lot of reflecting and prayer around the contents of that letter.  Your prayers and positive vibes are welcome, too!

Holy Moly.

I got a message from Meredith today letting me know that she had spoken with Christy, and Darren’s test results came up.  Now Christy knows that Keith is our biological father, and she is our biological Aunt.

And apparently she wants to meet me!  Christy is going to be in the Philadelphia area TOMORROW, then she’s taking a flight from Philly to Ireland at 8pm.  She wants to try to meet up with me over coffee before then.  Meredith gave me Christy’s phone number again and her email address, and asked that I email Christy with a summary of the DNA information that I’ve been collecting, and to give her a call about meeting.

I quickly put together the DNA evidence and family tree connections I had gathered so far, explaining it in as straight-forward (but comprehensive) a manner that I could, then passed it along.  Then I sent her a text message about meeting up, because I’m a wuss.  Meredith nicely encouraged that I give her a call, haha.  About an hour later, I did.  Voicemail!  Not so bad.  I explained that I had tickets to go to a wine festival the next day with a friend at 1pm, but that if she wasn’t able to meet up before then, I could always meet up with my friend afterward.

Around 9pm, she called me back.  She was still on the road on her way to Philly with her husband, but she let me know where she’d be staying so that I could look up coffee shops nearby.  I’m supposed to call back tomorrow early afternoon so that we can finalize a place and time!  I found the closest coffee shop to where she’ll be staying that I could, since it sounds like she’s going to need to get a ride from her cousin who she’s staying with (according to Meredith, these are cousins on Christy’s mother’s side, so additional “new” cousins of mine as well!)  Maybe I’ll end up meeting her too?  Who knows.

Anyway, I still haven’t written that letter to Keith, mostly because I have NO idea how to even start it, but maybe that will be a non-issue depending upon how this first meeting with Christy goes?

Breathe.  Breathe.

Faith. Hope. Love.

Faith. Hope. Love.

And/or just wine.  Wine would be fine, too.

Allow me to explain.

On Saturday, the day Christy wanted to meet up for coffee outside of Philadelphia, I originally had tickets to go to a wine festival with a group of friends.  I was supposed to drive to my friend Rachel’s house, then carpool with her to the festival.  Then drink wine all day.

Meeting my biological Aunt was probably one of few events that could get me to cancel those plans.

When I spoke with Christy on Friday night, she asked me to find a coffee place for us, then give her a call back Saturday afternoon.  Well, wine-time was supposed to start at 1pm, so I gave her a call at 11am to find out what time she was thinking would work for her (and I could go to the festival before, after, or not at all, depending upon her schedule).

This time when I called, she picked up right away.  I explained that I had found a place close by to where she was staying, and asked what time she wanted to meet.  She let me know that she was going out with her cousin (incidentally, also one of my “new” cousins!) first, but would call me when that was wrapping up.  Alright then.

So I drove to Rachel’s house to attempt wine-festivaling after all.  I’d just wine very lightly (yes, I’m using that as a verb in this case), so that I could head over to meet Christy when she called.  It wouldn’t be terribly far away, as it turned out.

By about 3:30pm, since I still hadn’t heard from her, I decided to send a text letting her know that I was at the festival but could leave at any time to come meet up with her.

It was an hour later before she responded.  The wine-crew and I were taking a sushi break when I received her message.  Basically, she wasn’t going to be able to make it–time got away from her as she was getting ready for the trip and she needed to head to the airport.

Was I disappointed?  Yes.  I can’t say that it didn’t feel like an early rejection, like perhaps not mattering all that much.  But at the same time, she doesn’t even know me yet, so maybe that makes all the sense in the world.  So far, I’ve largely just been a name on a screen, or a voice at the other end of the phone a couple of times.  That alone doesn’t make a person.

Besides, the fact that she was even considering working me into her schedule when she was going to be in Pennsylvania for less than a day and staying with other family (who she probably hadn’t seen in a while) to boot, well, that’s not nothing.  We mattered enough for her to consider it, and to ask.

And it wasn’t all bad news.  This did mean that I had full permission from myself to wine-on at the festival in accordance with the day’s original plans.

The next morning, I got an email from Christy apologizing again for not being able to make the timing work, but suggesting that we try again for her flight back to Philadelphia early next week.  We’ll see!

In the meantime, I’m re-tasked with writing this darn letter.  But where to even begin?!?!

It’s the last big thing (to my knowledge) that I need to do in this search, and yet the one that has always been the scariest.  And the most complicated.  It’s been much easier to put off than to get started, but I know that putting this off has been keeping me from doing anything else of consequence in the meantime.

I need to at least try to write what can’t fully be contained by words.

So maybe wine gets to save the day?  I did bring home two delicious bottles from the festival, after all.  It’s no Guinness, but the Irish seem to generally look favorably upon a little liquid courage now and again, yea?  No hurt in trying.

As it turns out, liquid courage was not required to draft my letter.  Miracles come in all forms, folks.

It took me a few days to get it all out (and a whopping 12 pages, although many of which contained pictures!), but it is done.  My brothers gave it the thumbs up, and James even added in a few pictures of his own.  Meredith gave it the thumbs up, too.

There was only one thing left to do.  I had to bring that massive letter to the post office and send it via certified mail.

On Friday morning, before driving to the shore to spend the holiday weekend with my family, I made a pit stop at the post office, manila envelope in tow.  My postal worker was fantastically helpful, as per usual (which reminds me that I still need to fill out his survey).  Overall, I had no idea what I was doing, except that I needed to send the letter both certified mail (so I’ll be sent a receipt once it is received) AND restricted (which means that only he will be able to receive and sign for it).  Given the sensitive nature of the letter, and what I’ve heard from others in this boat, this would be the best and most respectful way to get the letter to him.  That said, I definitely questioned my choice as I watched the postal worker blow up the envelope with bright red “RESTRICTED” stamps.  Whoops.  Hopefully he sees past that as a first impression of our message.

My postal worker said that since Monday is a holiday, the letter would arrive on Tuesday.  Phew, I had a few days.  However, it sounded like if they weren’t able to deliver directly to him on the first attempt, the letter would be kept at his local post office until he’s able to pick it up.  I thought  most packages allow for three delivery attempts?  Maybe it works differently with certified restricted mail.  Anyway, I could be looking at a while longer than Tuesday before he ever opens this letter.

Or he could get it on the first try, who knows.

The weekend flew by, because today is the day.  I’m trying not to freak out about it too much.  It’s just hard when you know that his world is about to seriously shift.  And how will he respond?  I left my phone number at the bottom of the letter, so it’s entirely possible that I could get a phone call today.  That’s really too big to fathom.  There’s also a return address, which could yield a reply letter anywhere from a few days from now to years. Or never.

He might even reach out to Christy or Meredith, since I mentioned them in our letter.

There’s really a million different possibilities for how this could play out, and I’m not sure that it’s helping my nerves to conceive of them.  (No pun intended).

What did the letter contain?  I’m trying to decide right now if it’s appropriate to include it.  The letter, in many ways, is his, and still feels private at this point.  It feels too sensitive in nature to post here, at least for now.  Maybe in time I’ll feel differently, but it does feel too soon.  If nothing else, aside from my brothers and Meredith, he deserves to be the first one to see it.  I have to give him that.

Christy is supposed to get back from Ireland today, and we’re supposed to try again with meeting up.  I sent her an email a few days ago confirming that I’ll make myself available and am just waiting to hear from her.

So I’ll just wait to hear from either one, or both.  I waited over a year to get this far on my search–I can wait a little longer.

Yesterday (Tuesday), I signed up for tracking notifications to my phone so that I’d get pinged with shipment updates.  Around 11:30am, the letter was attempted for delivery, but he apparently wasn’t around so a notice was left for pickup at the post office.

To be continued!