Dear John Doe
Dear donor, there are a multitude of questions I have wanted to ask you that have crossed my mind throughout my life. One of them that keeps haunting me is why. Why did you donate in the first place? I have come to the conclusion that there are a theee ways this could be answered,
1. You needed money and found it convenient that one could get paid to do something the majority of men do 4-7 times a week, without actually thinking what you were doing.
2. Your ego was so large that you felt that you needed to spread your “superior” genes throughout the world and bless people with the perfect child.
3. You genuinely wanted to help people who couldn’t conceive naturally.
Now 3 does sound like the most desirable one I’d like to hear, but the fact of the matter is that I will never know becasue you were anonymous. Even if the third one was the answer, if you truely wanted to help people, why would you want to hide your identity if what you were doing in your mind was a good deed. Another question that runs through my mind frequently are the whats. For example What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite food? What is your job? What is your religion? What are your political views? What is your take on current events? What your favorite book? What’s your favorite movie? The little things add up when all I know is that you are 5’10, blond, have blue eyes, and majored in Biology at UNC. That kind of information isn’t very warm and intriguing, it almost feels like reading off a drivers license rather than describing my father. When my friends talk about their fathers they talk about their first fishing trip together and how he would always bait the hook for him, or when he didn’t like a significant other they brought home. When I talk about my father I don’t have any memories to reminisce on or a specific image that pops into my head, I am just filled with bitterness. Not just because you donated, and not because you did it anonymously, but that fact my single mother wanted it that way. She chose for me to never even have the chance to meet my real father. But I hate feeling this way because, how do I tell my mom she wasn’t enough, that her love doesn’t fill a hole that she created. Every time I even mention my biological father around her, I feel like I am betraying her in some way. But if I never bring you up, no one will. So many people say my mom and I look alike, and I hate hearing that, not because my mom is ugly, but because it just gives her more reason to just sweep you under the rug and ignore you exist. I wish I had the power to ignore you exist, but some nights I just can’t. stop. thinking. No matter how hard I try I just can’t. I try to muffle my cries because I can’t let my mom hear, because it will only hurt her. Then I get angry because I didn’t get any protection in this decision. I was put into this masturbated race without any rights or a voice at all. You get to hide behind your anonymity, and I can’t have my mom seeing that I am angry or sad because I don’t want her to get buyer’s remorse. But my final set of questions for you “dad” are, Do you think about me or your other potential children? Do you have children now that you consider real family? And what’s the difference between them and me?