Sometimes I’m fiery angry about being sperm donor conceived. Sometimes I’m ambivalent, or I forget for days.
Today I’m overwhelmed with sadness. It is Thanksgiving. I’ve spent the days surrounded by sweet people who love me. My family. The ones who helped raise me. The ones who will claim me. I love them. I’m thankful to be with them. We’re having a lovely time.
But I miss my biological dad. I wish I could call him today. I wish I knew him well. I wish I could hug my bio brother, or send a quick, silly text to him. What is he doing today?
I look around the room at boys who look just like their daddies. Fathers and children who all have the same smirky giggle. I’ll never sit in the same room with him and know if we walk the same. I didn’t get to grow up reading the books he loves, or hearing his calming voice when I’m tired, or sharing a love for the way his mother, my grandmother, cooks. I cannot ever know these things. In the name of generosity, he gave me away.
So I hold in my tears, and slip away to the bathroom upstairs. I turn on the fan so they won’t hear me and give myself a few minutes to weep. Then I clean up my face and shore myself up. I’m back down with the group again. They love me, and I’m thankful to be spending time with them.
But today miss him.