Being Donor Conceived...A Definition of Self?

"Does this define you?" asked a colleague in a group I went out with overseas. The question elicits an internal sigh because I know the answer is so much more complex than the asker expects.

"I take it you mean the donor conception thing?" I turned and responded to him. Five of us were seated at a small table leaning forward to hear each other.  A serenade of dish-clanking, laughter and multi-lingual chatter surrounded us. It felt very intimate despite the fact we were just coworkers.

I paused to mentally rewind because our current conversation had moved to other things.  I mentioned donor conception about three topics ago and it was so lovely to gloss over the mention. 

"Yes, yes" he said calling everyone else's attention to his question. Their sudden silence seemed to say.. "Well....go on......answer him.."

Rather than try to recount word for word what I'll admit was a bit of a wine-soaked conversation, I'll summarize.  I explained that while being donor-conceived is a very large part of understanding who I am, it does not define me.

His question reminded me of the emails I sometimes receive in response to Connect It that urge I "stop focusing" on being donor conceived or "wasting time " contemplating it so much.  Such proclamations always make me laugh a bit --- it's as if they think I'm consumed day and night with writing this blog-- thinking of nothing else but my conception, sitting in a dark room feeling bad for myself and relentlessly ruminating. I don't fault that assumption because it's understandable if Connect It is the only means by which you know me. It's then reasonable to assume the focus of the blog is the focus of my life. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. 

If I'm guilty of letting anything consume my identity it's probably my job. I travel extensively for work doing things I love and often find myself in a hotel in South East Asia wondering where my life went. I continue to struggle to balance the excitement of travel I love and the stability I need to sustain myself....but that is another entry on another blog.

Being donor-conceived is better described as a theme in my life. It's an innate framework that effects how I perceive and react to life. You can certainly ignite my passion in a debate about anonymous donation and freedom of information, but my days do not start and end with thoughts about donor conception. 

What I find instead are sudden moments when the "theme music" of being donor conceived becomes too loud to ignore. In those moment, I'm consumed.

Hearing friends describe characteristics and traits they inherited from each of their parents, for example, frequently brings my donor-conceived "identity" bubbling to the surface.  Such descriptions occur far more often than one might think. There is something so universal about looking for the source of our traits. I come across it all over the world. From Singapore to Amsterdam, I've had people tell me they got this or that from their mother or father.

My reaction is always one first of curiosity -  meaning I wonder what it feels like to be able to disassemble your elements and neatly organize them by origin. I listen intently and ask questions about how the speaker has determined a less tangible trait or skill, like say  - rhythm, has been passed down from one of their parents. You might think - well doesn't she get that experience with her mother and....yes.... to some degree, but I'm always left with a whole pile of traits that can't be sorted. Hence the very act of determining the origin of my traits causes confusion rather than a feeling of belonging or entertainment. It's a topic that has always generated sadness or tension in my family. Discussing the origin of my traits is something I've learned to avoid and I've heard this from other donor conceived adults as well.

Another "defining moment" for donor conception is interaction with people who comment on inheritance or likeness but are unaware of the truth. I'm never more 100% conscious of being donor conceived as when I am with my father's extended family, who continue to be unaware of my true origin. Whenever they comment on something "I get from them" it's like a little me pops up on my shoulder and whispers "pssst --- remember you aren't genetic related to these people." In that sense, the donor conceived "identity" feels isolating. It's like these people don't truly know you because their is something you are holding back. When something fills in or barricades the space between you and another individual it feels so definitive and poignant - like their indeed is "a part" of you that prevents you from crossing the gap.

So - no....being donor conceived does not define me but I could go on and on about the  moments when donor conception becomes all-encompassing.  Ironically, its the moments when you can't identify with the majority of a group or relate to a somewhat universal human experience that being "donor-conceived" does seem to utterly define you.

This explanation to my colleagues aside, there was something far more interesting that came from the discussion.

As I finished explaining most were quiet but one of colleagues looked me straight in the eye and said,"I totally get it."

I thought perhaps he was donor conceived or adopted but in fact he was not. He went on to describe that he was gay- of which we all were aware - and as such he could relate. "Let me to explain" he said, English being the weakest of the 4 others he spoke fluently.

To paraphrase he shared that being gay was a small part of his identity, merely to whom he was attracted. While sex is a part of our lives it isn't everything and there are many other dimensions to life and relationships that are far more definitive. Think of, he reminded,  all the people in our lives with which we have non-sexual relationships, friends, family, colleague. In all these relationships, sexual orientation is completely irrelevant. Yet, he relayed, in certain situations being gay suddenly seemed like an identity. While he doesn't wake in the morning or go to sleep think about being gay certain situations highlight what is different about him and cause his sexual orientation to feel more relevant, more like it "defines him."

What really stuck with me was his description of feeling separated and for that very reason, defined. "I understand what it is you mean" he said and explained that in close relationships like with his mother and sister, you want to be truly known. Being gay was a dimension, albeit a small one, of who he felt he was. This wasn't about sharing his gay identity with his family...he explained  -  "I want them to know me and I am gay." This is not because his sister or mother should or even want to know about his sex life -- rolling his eyes and making a face- he said " that is ......how do you say....'ew'...I do not want to know about my mother or sister's sex life or to talk about my sex life."  He just wanted to be known, wholly for who he was. In essences, it's about being able to be authentic about your unique experience in the world -- whatever that may be.

So it's brought me to the conclusion that being donor conceived is part of my "unique experience in the world." A unique perspective in certain situations that I share with a group of donor conceived and adopted individuals that are most often not in the majority in large groups.

Being donor conceived does not define me, but it is still a vital part of who I am.

Feeling Lonely With Yourself

Washing my hands in front of a three-way mirror in one of those swanky NY hotel bathrooms, I caught that weird angle of my face looking elsewhere.  I typically use three-way mirrors to make sure clothes aren't too tight on the derrière, but this was an accidental glance. I saw what I look like to other people. and for a milli-second I didn't realize it was me. My profile has always perplexed me, in pictures especially, I often see a ghost lurking in my features. I look a lot like my mom but friends always remark that from the side I look different, like someone else.

My hands still wet and full of soap, I stared at the awkward reflection and thought to myself, "I must see 'him'." Thoughts like this often drift into my mind and then quickly exit, but on this occasion I got stuck and felt a mist of sadness fall over me. I saw this tall woman in her black dress, pearls and a somewhat serious gaze. I thought how sad it was that she would never get to know who her father was.....that she would not know his identity....or ever see his picture. I snapped back to reality and asked myself, "Is that really true?" My mind was like a bicycle with a chain that wasn't gripping the gears. I went a little blank but then realized, "yes it is true, it's extremely likely you will go to your grave having never known who your father was." A surreal moment.

As usual, I was having an emotional crisis at an incredibly inopportune time. There I was, gut wrenched as toilet bowls flushed behind me and a conference full of coworkers waited for my return. I packed the feeling in a small little box and pushed it to the back of mind...all the way behind the old boyfriends and failures I hate to think about. As a practice, I try not to have pity parties for myself -- especially in bathrooms. Being analytical tends to numb bad feelings but despite my best efforts, longing still catches me in vulnerable moments.

Since the bathroom episode I've had trouble talking and writing about donor conception. It feels like I have something caught in my throat. In the past, expressing my views on anonymous donation or engaging in debate with the donor-conceived community was invigorating. Writing especially was extremely cathartic; a way to capture conflicting feelings and process them. I might have been naive, but I felt I shared something valuable. Yet, lately I even find reading news on donor conception makes me feel a bit sad. I get a paragraph or two into an article and I can't concentrate. I avoid my laptop for fear of experiencing the guilt for not writing.

Only weeks ago my emotions hit a crescendo when my Family Finder  DNA results revealed a number of third cousins as well as an Eastern European heritage. I was filled with hope. For the first time in very, very long time, I felt less lost....less unknown. I've connected with many of my "third cousins," but sharing just great-great-grandparents isn't as definitive a link as one might think. The likelihood that anyone I've connected with has met glances with the ghost in my profile is slim to none.

This truth is neither surprising nor unrealistic so I'm not sure why it's suddenly occurring to me. Nonetheless, it feels like a sudden, and somewhat heart-breaking loss.

I don't really talk much about it on this blog, but I don't have the best relationship with the father that raised me. I'm not sure why I'm mentioning this now, but somehow in my mind its all connected to the feeling of deep loss. Thirty years ago my father and mother decided to create a family bound by a painful secret. They agreed to conceal the nature of my conception as their doctor had instructed (though my mom told me at 23, but that is another story.) My dad has some great qualities and he was nice sometimes but for the most part my memories of him were of fear. I remember feeling like I couldn't breath when I heard him come home from work. He was emotionally, verbally and sometimes physically abusive to my brother and I throughout our lives. At risk of over-simplifing what is an incredibly complex story of pain and denial, I believe my brother and I were the personification of what he perceived to be his greatest failure: the inability, as a man, to produce a child. What's more, he was completely emotionally unavailable. Sometimes fearing him was an odd and dysfunctional way to feel connected to him.

To this day, I conceal the nature of my conception from all of my extended family members so that he doesn't suffer the pain and embarrassment of them knowing he is sterile. Sometimes I forget the truth.  Other times, in random and inopportune moments, the truth feels like a hammock full of bricks weighing down my heart. My mother says letting others know the truth would "destroy him." Throughout my twenties, despite his behavior towards myself and my brother, I felt overwhelmingly sorry for him. How could I be so ungrateful as to want to share the nature of my identity with close family members? He may have been detached and often downright mean, but he stayed, he went to work, he told people he was my "Dad." How could I be such a selfish child? Of course, my mother and father's emotional well-being should take priority over my own.

I think a lot of people with opinions on anonymous sperm donation operate under the assumption that the children are going to homes where they are wanted so very much. The typical pro-donor conception argument involves sperm being given away by one man who doesn't want to father a child, to a man that does ...a man, that will love those children like his own. Though few are willing to admit it, this isn't always the case. Some men decide on donor conception without knowing what their reaction will be and some men have reservations but feel pressured by the pleading look on the face of a wife that deeply wants to be a mother. 

Nonetheless, people will still contend that those DC children unhappy with their situation should get over their feelings of loss and be grateful for life. 

At least right now, I find it hard to be grateful for my parents decisions.

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Dirty Tweets, Sperm Donation and other forms of Detachment

In an opinion piece called  Dirty Tweets, Sperm Donation and other forms of Detachment. on Technorati, I detail how Weinergate struck a cord in the search for my sperm donor. Check it out and let me know your thoughts.

There was also an interesting piece in the NY Times on a gay couple and single mom co-parenting after sperm donation: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/19/nyregion/an-american-family-mom-sperm-donor-lover-child.html

Happy Reading!

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