At 35 I found out.
My mom disclosed to me at age 35 my sister was donor conceived. Three years later a separate donor contributed to my birth.
I never felt close with my dad. I knew we were beyond different. I didn’t have the same characteristics as him. Emotionally, verbally, looks, interests. We never really were close as I grew up. He never taught me how to be a man. Never talked about his past. Never discussed girls. Nothing. I grew up just trial and error.
I never felt close to my sister. I always said to my mom, ‘She didn’t like me. We aren’t cut from the same cloth.’ I didn’t feel connected to her and still don’t.
This information is mind-blowing. I’m in shock. Everything I’ve known – or accepted – for 35 years is nothing more than a facade. My mom is amazing. Best mom to walk this earth. I’m lucky to have both parents. My dad is hardworking and provided well for the family.
However, it doesn’t suppress feelings or unease, anxiety and intrigue. I want to know where these genes that lie within my body come from. What was this man like that donated his sperm? Some bum on the street? A law enforcement official? A musician? These questions now plague me.
This is a hard pill to swallow.